Dear Diary, as scholars read these pages avidly in the distant future they will be struck by my exrraordinary ingenuity and my towering intellect. The tone of criticism of my Administration's handling of the VA scandal was growing increasingly strident and nasty last week. "It's time I did another covert visit to Afghanistan ," I told Valerie Jarrett. She quickly set it up after my Saturday round of golf and instead of motorcading home after the game I was whisked off to Joint Base Andrews and Air Force One, fueled up and ready to go. Marvelous Marv, my trip director, has now reached the standard of attention to detail of Reggie Love, his predecessor. Waiting for me on my pillows was a chocolate mint, a foil sheet of Ambien tablets and Badgie, my comfort blanket. After a dinner of wagyu beef steak, fries and broccoli. I took my tablets, and soon fell into the kind of sleep only granted to the pure of heart. That would be me. There was a deafening thump! I sat up wide-eyed with fear. "Aaaugh!" A scream filled my private bedroom. It was me. We were supposed to arrive at Bagram base under cover of darkness, but runway lights were flashing past. How long before Afghanis opened fire on my Jumbo with RPGs and mortars? " Get me outta here Marv!", I begged, holding onto his llegs and then his ankles as he dragged me to the exit.
As he threw open the door, three reassuringly huge marines stepped in, raised me bodily and carried me down the steps and into the cafeteria. "Welcome to Bagram, Sir," they said. Safe at last!
As he threw open the door, three reassuringly huge marines stepped in, raised me bodily and carried me down the steps and into the cafeteria. "Welcome to Bagram, Sir," they said. Safe at last!
