January 03, 2003~~11:50 a.m.
An Open Letter to George W. Bush
Dear Shrublet, I am writing to voice strong opinions in opposition of your attempts to completely ruin my life and wreak havoc on what I have come to know as my reality thus far. In addition, I would like to make it unambiguously clear (did you understand that word, �unambiguously�?) as to why I will not be voting for you in 2004. Let me start from the beginning. In case you don�t recall, perhaps because Mr. Cheney actually gave the �go ahead�, you activated my boyfriend, Omar, last January, from his reserve status in the Marine Corps on the very day that he was accepted to begin the police academy and thus, fulfill a lifelong dream of becoming a cop. We took this blow to our life in stride. He moved to Camp Pendleton where the USMC obligingly took a barracks out of condemnation and set up a lovely, if drafty, home for several men suddenly finding themselves away from their families and jobs and staring into wall lockers full of camouflage. It would be enough to send YOU to choke on a pretzel, but not these guys. No way. They put up with a captain with no brain or heart, a moratorium on seeking health and dental care because they were too busy traipsing around the barren hills of Camp Pendleton with 80 pounds of gear on their backs to schedule appointments or to even be available for appointments, and getting screwed over almost daily with changes in their schedules and leave time. All so you could tour the country and say things like �evildoer� and �nucular� and strange things of that nature. But we survived. We saw each other almost monthly, and felt that in some small way, we had thwarted your attempts at ruining our lives. Then, there was good news. We learned just after Thanksgiving, that Omar would be released a month early to attend the police academy in January. We thought this was too good to be true! How lucky! As long as he was officially checked out by January 6, no matter what you decided to do with Saddam, Omar would be in the clear. About a day later, we received more good news. I learned I was pregnant! Yes, there would be a little one on the way, and thank heavens Omar would be out of the dastardly military so he could witness the miracle of my nausea! Not only that, but we might be able to actually AFFORD a child with a cop�s salary versus that of an enlisted man in your military. (Aside: we understand that you can�t really afford to pay these guys more than you do, because after all, the White House did need 40 Christmas trees in each and every room for the television special this holiday season, did it not? And I�m sure all those sugared fruit wreaths and garlands draping every square inch of every wall, banister and hearth were completely paid for by the Bush family and their wealth garnered from oil from the Middle East and the LAST Gulf War, no?) We began the hurried plans for a wedding on February 22. By then, Omar would be more than a month into the police academy and we would be well on our way to our shared future. We paid the deposit on the nicest reception place in Sacramento and even took a couple�s personality test at our church of choice for the ceremony. Alas, it was not meant to be! Little did we know that whilst you were enjoying a warm, cozy family Christmas at Camp David, you were sealing our fate! That video clip of you climbing out of Air Force One with the Scottie dog under your arm was all a fa�ade. It was just a farce to get the world to see you as an understanding family man. But we know better, don�t we? Because when Omar went to check out of the Marine Corps last Friday, the captain told him that �Oops! Just kidding! You�re not going ANYWHERE, Marine! Except, of course, right back to Camp Pendleton! So take your mini-fridge, pictures of your girlfriend, camelback water pack, and meal-ready-to-eat right back from whence you came!� Not only will Omar not be starting the police academy on January 13, as originally planned, we will not be planning a wedding for February 22. Instead, we will have a last-minute ceremony sometime this month, so we can avoid having an illegitimate child this summer as well as increase his military income by the mere $200 allowed for a spouse. I hesitate to put any money down for a church or restaurant (thus, not helping your wretched economy, by the way) because I am nearly positive, that even if Omar were to have leave granted TO GET MARRIED, it would likely be revoked or canceled or something of that nature in lieu of him having to stay at Camp Pendleton to train to do something really important for the independence of the Iraqi people, like march up and down a hill 20 times or something. In closing, you will not be invited to my wedding. And I will not be sending you a thank-you card on our new monogrammed stationery for the wedding gift of my husband-to-be. Instead, I will not be doing what Jesus would do, and will be cursing your name whilst my future husband enjoys his �honeymoon� on the sandy beaches of Iraq. I hope, after all is said and done, that you enjoy each and every night you spend snuggled into your four-poster bed in the White House this winter, and someday, you can rest assured that the wealth you will incur as a result of this impending war was gained at the expense of not only THIS woman�s personal security and happiness in a very emotional time, but likely, the expense of a thousand other families just like me. May you fall into a burning ring of fire, Lauren
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