Invade Long Island next?

Editor’s note: Today’s column is an invented work of satire and imagination, purely for parody purposes.

President George W. Bush has announced the United State’s next target of preemptive “regime change” war-making: Long Island, a picturesque New York finger of land housing mainly the rich in lavish and luxurious beachfront mansions.

“I know pure evil – the next Saddam – when I see him. And who better has a smoking gun than a corrupt ex-cop. When news got to me of that … that … that awful, vile man making those wonderful women take their clothes off for traffic violations in Long Island, well, I knew we had to go in there next, and rescue those poor little ladies from the possibility they may never have a safe moment driving again.”

DUH-Be-Ya’s announcement came hard on the heels of winding down the war in Baghdad, and facing new terrorist challenges erupting throughout the free, and not-so-free, world. “We will invade Long Island,” he vowed, “in time for the prime summer rental season at the Hamptons.”

“We are on top of the problem with our military intelligence. And I just know there’s a horrible room this … this … this, evildoer has at Long Island police headquarters with one of those pickled egg jars, only this one filled with fingers and ears of folks he’s stopped for traffic violation. I find this course of action unconscionable. Who knows where it will end. And don’t get me started on body parts in jars. Mr. Ashcroft is studying the domestic situation on that issue as well.”

Though it was a sunny day, the president gave an awful shudder, and proceeded with his impassioned jeremiad. “During our next war for righteous release from all abusers on Long Island, Tommy, Condi, Rummy and the rest of us will each commandeer – uh, liberate – one of those nifty beach locations in Long Island. Um, for tactical reasons,” the Bushling said. “Yup. Pretty nice. The ranch, well, I try to keep Laura away or else she spends the whole durn time Line-Dancing.

“And I’m getting tired of those boring weekends at Camp David which we are on our way to renaming after my Daddy, Camp Halcion. Anyway, I don’t want to be a Geraldo here and give too much away of our top-secret war plans, but in our Long Island war, we will airlift tons of non-oily SPF40-sunscreen with Jojoba, dropping them on the native population in an effort to entice them over to our side of seeing things. I think that should convince them about the joys of democracy.”

Alternating Tic-Tacs and Slim Jims, he stifled a hiccup.

“Have I said this before? This is scripted, you know,” he declared. “We are hoping Long Islanders will abandon their taste for fish tacos and instead return to economic appreciation for America’s highest culinary efforts … McDonald’s Whomp-Burger, named in this war’s honor,” he added.

The Bushling’s eyes shone as he recited his most recent political triumphs, including pushing his pet tax-cut-for-the-rich program through Congress, before returning to the glories of war. “The military highpoint of many for me, still, was seeing Saddam’s statue topped off its pedestal in Baghdad. I told you we would whup his butt. And there is no truth to the as yet unsubstantiated rumor Saddam’s statue will be replaced by a sculpture of me riding a mechanical bull. Or that the whole thing will be in perpetual motion. Condi, have you heard that yet?”

“Do you have any idea how this new war will make vacation time-shares more accessible to the already wealthy,” the Bushling said later though his mouthpiece, Ari Fleisher, “and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

However, Long Island locals were of mixed mind how the invasion would play out to their benefit. “I just know this new war will cut into my running time,” said one angry fellow tersely, adjusting his elastic knee brace. Meanwhile, “The Pearl Mesta of the Hamptons,” a party-throwing matron, was all agog at the possibility of getting federal tax credits for retooling her recently redecorated seaside mansion as a USO canteen. “I so love men in uniform. Men who take charge. Men who give orders,” she burbled. “Just tell me when the generals hit the beach.”

Naturally, the president indicated, this prospective Long Island invasion is only one of many unconventional political and military adventures contemplated for the United States of America standing at the threshold of “achieving greater and greater global magnificence in the New Millennium.”