Letter to the President on His Vacation

As an upstanding citizen of this great blessed nation and a devoted constituent, I hope you are enjoying your vacation. I hear Texas is quite warm this time of year, but I would never know because like the average American "9 to 5er" I've always been bogged down with menial pursuits like work or school.

I am in awe of a leader who can enjoy a cool lemonade with the global political situation heating up like a cow's ass on your ranch in Crawford, Texas in the dead heat of summer.

Word has it Laura perfected her lemonade recipe after her top-notch Alabama Slammer shots were no longer politically correct. I don't think anyone would disagree with me when I say that lemonade and brownies are the foundation of solid family values in this great nation (I'm sure her brownies aren't like the ones you and I ate in college though).

Seriously. Taking four weeks of vacation during our nation's most serious economic stagnation since your father was president sends out an unique message (and one I actually agree with) -- a life of extravagant comfort will heal all.

I don't know how you got a hold of my very raison d'etre. Nor do I know how you are able to convince a production-oriented nation that this is the Viagra to our economic impotence.

Liberal baby-boomers and middle-class America have good reason to be concerned about your apparent lack of enthusiasm towards revitalizing the country's economy.

That's what the naysayers claim, but I agree with the ten-gallon capped hero of the "Big Lebowski" when he says, "I like your style, dude."

That's right, so much so that I think you'd like my style too.

This is why I'd like to take the place of one of your daughters and follow in your footsteps -- by attending Harvard's Business School, your alma mater, with your blessing and your esteemed recommendation. As a student I can empathize wholeheartedly with your daughters. Jenna, Barbara and I all share the great burden of following in the immense footsteps of our fathers and grandfathers.

I made a crucial decision in not following my kin into the world of root canals, fillings and illicit affairs. Your daughters (given their several run-ins with the law) have perhaps unintentionally made the same decision and decided not to become president (at least until they've parted with the booze and slept with Jesus).

See, I'm in a quandary as what to do after I graduate. And after a great deal of reflection, I've come to view you as a father. Like you, I've made a great deal of mistakes, especially in my college years, but have since seen the proverbial light.

When I look at your concept of success, I see one that I already embrace, and hope to build upon. Like many graduating seniors, I regard success as a given and hard work (not exclusively religion) as the opium of the masses (to turn Marx upside down).

Some, even me, questioned the first part of your presidency, but you've turned it around. By surrounding yourself with hard-working neo-realists, you've effectively delegated your work so well that your office is running like a no-maintenance oil-rig off the coast of Florida.

Like you, my grade point average suffered in college because (and I'll be blunt) I had a whole lot of fun, and it hasn't completely stopped yet. But I'm sure you can understand as well as anyone that a 2.0 only holds you back if you don't believe in yourself (or if your dad hasn't been the director of the CIA).

My "real" dad and I don't exactly agree on the way I see my future. You and I enjoy a more leisurely lifestyle -- SportsCenter, fishing and monthlong vacations.

Like I said, I don't want to follow my dad. You're my father now. Treat me like a son, pull some strings, speak with the dean so I don't have to join the National Guard or flip burgers. Don't you want your son to have more opportunities than you had?

I don't want to work hard, and if you and I come together on this we can make it happen.

Sincerely,

Josh

P.S. What is Jenna doing this Saturday night? I figure if you give me your blessing for Harvard, your daughter's hand couldn't be far off.

Josh Baylin can be reached at jbaylin@email.unc.edu.