Underwear steward

recently, i was contacted by the bush administration employee who's only job is to wash the president's underwear. he is completely undercover, for homeland security reasons, but very much wanted his story to be told. i will not, and cannot divulge his name, mainly because i don't know it. this whole matter was done very covertly, so basically, i don't know nothing. the following are direct quotes from our taped interview, which is for sale.

me: "hi, so you wash president bush's underwear, is that right"?

him: "yes, i do."

me: "tell me how you managed to get such an important job."

him: "i used to be the foreman in charge of manure management on bush's crawford texas ranch."

me: "so, let me understand this. you were in charge of shit?"

him: "exactly. anything having to do with shit, was my complete responsibility."

me: "WOW! well, the obvious question is boxers or briefs?"

him: "the president pretty much wears whatever's clean that morning. i've seen him wear both from time to time. on a personal level he prefers to wear no underwear, because it's easier for him to scratch."

me: "i see. describe for our readers and viewers what it's like to wash the president's underwear all day long."

him: "well, the president is up pretty early, so i am too. the night before, i check and make sure that he has at least one dozen pairs of clean underwear to choose from for the following morning. oddly enough, when it comes to underwear, this president is very much pro-choice."

me: "that is odd. what other insights can you give americans who aren't on as intimate a level as you are with their president?"

him: "he likes to fart. he says it feels good. he always laughs at a good fart. he tells me laura can really rip 'em, but i've never actually heard her myself."

me: "well, i guess we all do it, huh? what details can you relate to us about the president's underwear?"

him: "i've noticed, since 9/11, there have been more brown skid-marks in his underpants. if they can't be washed out real good, dick cheney instructs me to burn them. even though i officially work for the president, most of my orders come directly from dick cheney. the president often says, "that's my dick!"

me: "apparently they work pretty well together."

him: "are you kidding?! they fucking hate one another!"

me: "are you able to tell us what specific brand name underwear the president wears?"

him: "geez, i don't know if i should. i might get into trouble, or something."

me: "totally understandable."

him: "it's not that i'm afraid, it's just that there used to be some people who worked here, and now they've completely disappeared. it's weird, you know?"

me: "yes, i know."

him: "i've worked for the bush family since i was nine years old, and i've learned some things."

me: "like what?"

him: "like if you piss them off, the rest of your life is shit."

me: "really?"

him: "Oh yeah, i've seen some scary shit go on in that family. as long as you do what you're told, you get a paycheck, but cross them, and you're fucked."

me: "i've heard that from many other people. let's get back to underwear. does the president have a favorite color?"

him: "for sure. he likes black the most. he says it hides the brown skid-marks the best."

me: "i wouldn't know a thing about that."

him: "me neither!"

me: "how old are you?"

him: "i'm 79. i've worked for the bush family for 70 years. they say if i keep up the good work, i can retire soon."

me: "sounds reasonable. how much to you earn?"

him: "when i first started, 70 years ago, they didn't pay me any money, but i got to sleep in the barn, and could eat all the food that was tossed out before the pigs got it. now i get $5.30 an hour. mrs. bush says i might soon be getting a raise."

me: "has the president confirmed this?"

him: "well, not yet, but he's pretty busy. i save a lot of my money, since i live in the basement of the white house. i sleep in the same room where the washing machines are, so i don't have to commute or nothing like that. i don't own a car. i like to walk. after work, i usually go for a walk. i work from 6am to 6pm, then i take a little walk around the basement of the white house. the president says it's too dangerous for me to go outside."

me: "i see. if i may, i'd like to get a little personal. who did you vote for?"

him: "in 2000 i voted for al gore, and in 2004 i voted for john kerry."

me: "me too."

him: "but since i've worked my whole life for the bush family, i figure i'd stick it out another few years 'til they put me out to pasture. the president says i can always live in his barn whenever i'm ready to retire."

me: "wow. anything else you'd like your fellow americans to know?"

him: "i like movies. i really liked that last one i got to see, gone with the wind. that was a good one! i ain't seen no movies since then. the bush family keeps me pretty busy. i like donkeys too. there's something safe and comforting about a good donkey."

me: "i want to thank you very much for having the courage to speak with me. i think your place in history will be very important, and that future generations will always be grateful to the man in the basement of the white house who washed the president's underwear."

him: "awe shucks, 'tain't nothin'."

me: "well, i think you're very brave, and i personally salute you."

him: "can i just say one more thing?"

me: "of course."

him: "when i do retire, i'll be auctioning off some of the president's used underpants on ebay."

me: "cool!"