President Bush’s penchant for mischevious behavior plunged much of the nation into darkness last week, as blackouts spread from Michigan all the way into Canada.  My Extremely Reliable Anonymous Source, Lumpy the Mongoose,  has the story. Lumpy?

Well Pesky, it’s like this. There’s a red button right next to the President’s bed. Now a lot of people think The Red Button launches a nuclear war, but actually, The Red Button launches any one of a random series of disastrous and bizarre events.  It seems that since President Bush entered office, he has been, unbeknownst to his advisors, repeatedly pressing the red button.

The first time he pressed it, Michael Jackson’s nose finally disappeared. The second time he pressed it, a giant hole opened up in Nebraska and sucked down two-hundred head of cattle. The third time he pressed it, a woman in New York started dating a man who was completely unsuitable for her and would treat her poorly for three excrutiating years before finally dumping her for a stripper from Queens.

My sources tell me that the President’s reason for  pushing The Button was simple: he likes shiny red things. Also, once, after pushing the button, the lights went out in California for a couple of hours. The President loved making the lights go out in California, because he had learned years ago that California is the most likely location of the antichrist, and being a good Christian, he enjoyed torturing the antichrist.

(Little does the President know, but the antichrist is actually Spot the Dog, the President's personal pooch. Spot became the antichrist after a particurly bad bout of fleas. Spot has been quietly influencing the President's foreign policy for over two years.)

But this time, pushing the button snapped out the lights across a multitude of states, including some where Republicans actually hold elected office. The President realized he had gone too far.  He slipped out his bedroom in his pajamas and slowly made his way down the stairs to the office of one of his advisors, Condi Rice.

"Hi Condi," said the President.

"Hi George," said Condi Rice.

"I, uh, pushed the button."

"Which button?"

The President hesitated.  "Uhm, er--"

"The blue button?"

"No! Not the blue button."

Condi Rice breathed a sigh of relief. The Blue Button, if pressed, drains all the oceans of the world like a giant toilet bowl. "The yellow button, then?"

The President cocked his head. "No. What does the yellow button do?"

"It causes all Americans to lose control of their bladders at the same time. Don't press the yellow button."

"Ok."

"So which button did you press?"

The President looked at the floor. "The Red Button."

Condi looked around and then carefully shut her office door. "That's ok. You can keep pressing The Red Button."

The President perked up. "Really?"

"Yes. You can press it as much as you like. Keeps things interesting."

The President grinned happily. "I love pushing The Red Button."

"The Red Button is your friend, George."

"I'm going to go push it again right now!"

"Yes you are, George."

The President flopped up the stairs and pressed the button again. Somewhere far away, a man who would ordinarily know better responded to a spam message about free Viagra, and will never, ever have sex again.

7:44:58 AM