I had this crazy dream last night

That a nuclear missle was headed straight for DC. It was Sunday morning and President Bush had taken a break from a golf game to do a quick interview with a network. I was working at the network doing something. The president was wearing full golf outfit, glove and all. Since he never reads the newspaper or listens to the news, he hadn't heard about the missle. When the interviewer told him, he started crying and saying, "Please, please, somebody help me!" And then he pulled out some beers he had stashed from the golf course and chugged one. Meanwhile, Peter Jennings was preparing for the end of the world on air. For some reason he started singing Christmas Carols. The lights went out, but nothing happened. The missle alert was a mistake, and there was no nuclear attack. We played the tape of the president crying over and over, and laughed and laughed.