*Our* First Lady

My wife was much impressed by the way Nancy Pelosi sat during the photo-op portion of her first meeting with Bush in her new role as Parliamentary Madonna. My wife said I should look at the straight back, the knees demurely tight together as if super-glued, the ankles gracefully tilted to one side, the hands even more demurely clasped.

Tea? Cookies? Phased withdrawal? A slice of impeachment, perhaps?

She sits like a lady, my wife said. But look at Bush. Most of the time his hands are sort of floating in front of his genitals as if it promised to be a long cold winter and here come the squirrels.

Running scared is one thing, she said. Sitting scared is quite another.

Now, in the picture above, he's.... Well, he's.... What is he is doing is....

I think the word is exaggerating.

An early morning postscript: The 15-Minute Man is not kidding. Many of his posts take 15 minutes -- or less -- to write. (He probably did not need to point this out.) And that may explain the obvious nature of the preceding visual joke. It's like Rumsfeld said:

You don't go to war with the joke you'd like to have. You go to war with the joke you have at the time.

(Though that's not quite the actual quote. Interesting how the pebble is smoothed as we pass it around.)