George W. Bush - My Fake Diary

Saturday, 27 June 2009

Dear Diary,

W.Here.

I hate this new-fangled e-mail crap. Why can't people just call you up or drop you a note by mail. E-Mail, doesn't that sound like He-Man, Tar-Zan?

These things, my kids showed me how to use them but now I wish I hadn't found out. At least that was an excuse. You get one and you better read it right away because it now has top priority in your life.

Some even threaten you. "If you do not send out six of these for good luck to friends, your dog will be ran over by a tank."

And you have to read it right through. No way to say, hey, hold on, because it's already there and it ain't stopping for questions.

Then there's the names. Fuzzyballs. Probably Janet Reno.

No, it's a man. I was at a bar in Dallas and this guy came up and said, "Howdy, I KNOW who you are, I'm Fuzzyballs!

Not fuzzy yet..not until a few more drinks.

Last night my daughter said e-mails were old hat. I stopped her right there. She's already got me into meeting Fuzzyballs, not much telling who's on that little calculator looking thing she's punching there.

W.