In Which Don Paco Interviews President Bush at the Hacienda

Above: My devious dogservant and loyal friend Santiago gives George W. Bush his just desserts by rubbing his doggy asshole all over Bush’s pristine white pants, giving him the dreaded CACULO. For once, it’s W. that gets BEASTED.


HERE AT THE HACIENDA — Ah, hello my friend, I am glad that you have arrived, you have surprised me at a very busy moment, as I am making preparations to receive a very special visitor. I see from the bullet holes with which you are riddled that you have already met his security contingent, Blackwater Security. Would that I have known that when the President travels to Puerto Rico he would be protected by them and not the Secret Service! I would have made the appropriate preparations. As it is, they were here doing the preliminary security check earlier when one of my kitchen staff said something in Spanish, and then their commander immediately yelled “RAGHEADS! RAGHEADS! OPEN FIRE!” And now I have no kitchen. These are dark times.

You did not know I know the President? I actually have known him for quite some time. We went to the same school, though not at the same time, and also in 2000 I bundled $250,000 for his campaign. You did not know I was a Bush Pioneer? I am a complicated man. But mostly he is here because I told him that my humble hacienda sits on vast reserves of petroleum and unlikely Mideast democracy. Halliburton immediately checked and found neither, but the President still doesn’t have their memo about it because Dick Cheney is not done drafting the Executive Order to have me killed. Oh, that Dick, such as—oh, excuse me, here comes the President. Feel free to stay for the interview, though I must say, it looks like you have lost a lot of blood. Let me text Santiago and have him arrange for a blood transfusion for you.

Don Paco: Ahh, Mr. President, how lovely to see you! It has been a dog’s age!

The President: Don Paco! Como habla usted mi cabeza restaurante, taco Río Grande!

Don Paco: Please, sir, you need not worry about speaking in Spanish, though I appreciate what appear to have been your taxing efforts to do so. Please, have a seat.

The President: Boy, that’s a nice suit you’re wearin’ there, Don Paco. A sharp suit. All creamy-colored and delicious-lookin’. I’ma call you Creamy, Creamy McSuitguy. Creamy McSuitguy, heh heh heh! And that hat, great hat!

DP: Ah, Mr. President, I am glad you like it. How nice it is to hear you laugh in these dark times. And what a lovely laugh you have, sounding forced yet involuntary and uncontrollable, it really is unique, and, really, if nothing else, appropriate at all times at which it is deployed.

TP: Well, thanks there McCreamy. I’ll just have a seat on this here chair.

DP: So I wanted to ask you, sir, about your veto of the SCHIP program, which would have provided health insurance to millions of uninsured children. Why did you do that? It’s a program that has worked very well at the state level, it’s economical given what it manages to achieve, it’s quite popular, and it seems like you could have made it the cornerstone of your “compassionate conservative” agenda, which, as I recall, you haven’t really mentioned in years.

TP: Well, Dick explained it to me, and I Decidered that the compassionate thing to do would be to keep those children safe from socialized medicine. I’ve seen what socialized medicine is all about, just ask little Elián.

DP: Elián González?

Blackwater Commander: HAJJIS! OPEN FIRE!! KILL EVERYTHING!!!

TP: Shit, we better duck, Hatman.

DP: No! My beautiful porch! Can’t you get them to stop shooting?

TP: I find it’s best to just let ‘em run outta bullets. Takes ‘em a while to restock. Sounds like they’re windin’ down.

DP: Sir, is hiring these men really necessary? Why are they even here? Where’s the Secret Service? And why can’t the military do what they do in Iraq? Obviously they would be much better at it, you’d have more control over what happens, and it would definitely be cheaper.

TP: Yeah, but you have to trust the market economy, Ricky Martin! Government doesn’t work, trust me, I KNOW. Don’t worry about your casa here, Paco-san, I can get you a nice trailer for while you fix ‘er up.

DP: No thank you, sir, I’ll manage.

TP: You sure? Someone told me they’re full’a formaldehyde. That’s that stuff that keeps your teeth shiny.

DP: I’m pretty sure that you’re wrong about that.

TP: That’s ok. I’m insulated from any consequences stemming from my various and sundry colossal errors in judgment. Whatever that means. That’s what Dick’s always saying to me. I like that word, colossal. COLOSSAL! Like Colossus. He’s made’a metal. Big guy. Metal. Metal flat-top haircut. Always liked him. Throws Wolverine at robots.

DP: Mr. President, I’d like to ask you about the war in Iraq. Is there any way that—

TP: This is a nice place you got, you must spend lotsa time clearin’ brush like I do on m’ranch.

DP: Actually I don’t do anything of the sort. I pay people to do that for me. I do not see the appeal.

TP: I’ll tell you a secret, I only do it cuz Karl made me. He made me buy that ranch, too, right before the election, said people like to see a cowboy in action, you see but I’m scared’a horses, right, so I just clear brush all the time while I’m down there. Wish I could ride m’bike instead. I’m just gonna sell the ranch soon’s I leave office, just wear my spandex shorts and ride m’bike instead there, ol’ Sombrero my pal, you know what I’m sayin’?

DP: Sure. Now, Mr. President, if we could get back to talking about Iraq—

TP: Is that your dog?

DP: Yes, that is my dog, his name is Santiago.

TP: He’s just standing up there on his butt starin’ at me. Won’t quit. Make ‘im quit it. Quit it, dog. Throw you in Gitmo.

DP: He just wants to climb up on your lap, sir. He likes you.

TP: Well hell he shoulda just said so, c’mon up here Santi Claus!

DP: It’s Santiago.

TP: Did you order the code red?

DP: What?

TP: YOU NEED ME UP ON THAT FENCE!

DP: Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

TP: Lookit this here dog, he’s just sitting straight up here on m’lap. He’s staring at me, Don Corleone. Make ‘im stop. I feel like he’s looking right into my very soul.

DP: Perhaps he is, Mr. President. Perhaps he is.

TP: I’ma get goin’, had them Blackwater guys find me some bike trails. BMX! Get offa m’lap, crazy dog. I don’t like your dog, Don whatever. I’ma call him—hey, what the hell? There’s shit on m’pants! Your dog’s shit got on m’pants!

DP: Oh, Mr. President, Santiago seems to have given you a caculo. I’m so very sorry. I should have warned you.

TP: Gave me a caca’s what he gave me. Fuck Cuba I’m outta here.

DP: You’re in Puerto Rico, sir.

TP: Whatever, rice and beans, Mexicans, don’t make no difference. It’s all guest workers to me. Don’t try and climb that fence I’m building.

DP: I don’t have to sneak into the country, I’m a citizen, we all are. We can just fly right in.

TP: Yeah we’ll see about that.

DP: Well, adios, Mr. President, it was lovely to see you.

TP: Yeah well you just watch out for that dog’s asshole. Hasta lasagna, don’t get any on ya!

DP: Sir, did you just quote Emilio Esteves in Mission: Impossible?

TP: Emilio Esteves?

Blackwater Commander: RAGHEADS! RAGHEADS! OPEN FIRE!

Editor's Note: Don Paco would like to apologize for any random Hindi script appearing on this page; for some reason the website seems to have taken to converting select things into Hindi, and for some reason it refuses to let me correct the transliteration setting. This disclaimer, by the way, is in no way meant to offend this blog's vast Hindi-speaking readership, which has an insatiable hunger for all things Puerto Rico-related.