Dear Hank

To Hank with love ... I'd like to offer you a gift. Out of my own pocket, I want to buy you a nice long vacation. I'm serious. Anywhere you wanna go, any price, any number of weeks. Anything you ask. You need to get away for a while. You've done quite enough here, thank you.

Yes, I'm breaking up with you. It's not you, and it's not me. We've just grown apart. Well, to be frank, your deal-making addiction and shop-a-holism just leaves no room in your life for me. Don't feel ashamed. You're not alone ... and it wasn't your fault. The peer pressure from those rowdy new buddies of yours down in Washington must have been just too much. I care enough about you to say this: seek help. Really. You'll thank me someday.

Honestly, warts and all, I'd keep ya ... but it would never last. I just can't afford the kind of lifestyle you require. If I was made of money, I promise, I'd have bought you the auto industry like you asked last Christmas. I kept working weekends saving up for that "Brazil" place you said would make you my best friend forever ... but darn the luck, I put everything I ever had in the markets, and well, you may have heard they're gone.

I did the math and it turns out I can't even pay the minimum balance on that credit card you used to buy 10% of America's home loans for a trillion bucks. I think you probably could have gotten that cheaper if you had looked online. I know you like to shop, but I think you need to take this one back to the store. It's just over the top. Garish. Gaudy. You don't want to be gaudy, do you?

No, I'm going it alone ol' chap. Probably won't be emotionally ready for another Trust Me Treasury Secretary for a long time. You'd best return some of the stuff you bought or find yourself 300 million new sugar daddies and mommies before the next installment payment comes. Try Russia or China. I hear they have some extra ones.

May God bless and keep you far away from us,

Your most humble, loyal servant for the forseeably indebted future,

n.b.dubya