Don Rumsfeld's "A Not-So-Wonderful Life"

    Exterior bridge over Potomac River - Night

    Close Shot - Rummy is standing by the railing, staring morosely
into the water. The snow is falling hard. Feeling a tap on his
shoulder, he wheels around and wrestles an old man with wings into a
headlock.

    Old Man: Ouch! Tut, tut. When will you learn that force doesn't
solve everything?

    Rummy: Who the dickens are you?

    Old Man: Clarence, Angel First Class. I've been sent down to help
you.

    Rummy, squinting: You're off your nut, you old fruitcake. You
can't help me. I was a matinee idol in this town, a studmuffin. Now
everyone's turned on me - Trent Lott, Chuck Hagel and that dadburn
McCain.

    Clarence: No more self-pity, son. I'm going to show you what the
world would have been like if you'd never been born.

    Clarence, who can fly now, takes Rummy's hand and they soar over
the icy Potomac to the Pentagon. Beneath the glass on the desk of the
defense secretary is a list of members of Congress and their phone
numbers.

    Rummy: Who put that there?

    Clarence: Sam Nunn. He's the defense secretary. Sam consults with
Congress. Never acts arrogant or misleads them. He didn't banish the
generals who challenged him - he promoted 'em. And, of course, he
caught Osama back in '01. He threw 100,000 troops into Afghanistan on
9/11 and sealed the borders. Our Special Forces trapped the evildoer
and his top lieutenants at Tora Bora. You weren't at that cabinet
meeting the day after 9/11, so nobody suggested going after Saddam. No
American troops died or were maimed in Iraq. No American soldiers
tortured Iraqis in Abu Ghraib. No Iraqi explosives fell into the hands
of terrorists. There's no office of disinformation to twist perception
abroad. We're not on the cusp of an Iraq run by Muslim clerics tied to
Iran. Here's Sam. He's with the chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

    General Shineski: We got some good news today on the National
Guard, sir. Recruiting is up 40 percent. With the money we saved
killing that useless missile defense system, we up-armored all our
Humvees.

    Rummy, fists and jaw clenched: Grrrrrrr...I want to see Wolfie!

    Clarence: Sam never hired any of those wacko neocons. Wolfowitz is
a woolly headed professor at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced
International Studies, and a consultant to Ariel Sharon. Richard Perle
was never in charge of the Defense Policy Board, so he was unable to
enrich himself through government connections, or help Ahmad Chalabi
con the administration. Perle stayed an honest man, running a chain of
souffle shops. His souffles were so fluffy he became known as the
Prince of Lightness. Doug Feith never worked here, either, so he never
set up the Office of Special Plans to spin tall tales about W.M.D. and
Qaeda ties to Saddam. And he never bungled the occupation because
there was no occupation. Without you to swoon over in a book, neocon
doyenne Midge Decter became a fallen woman, like Violet.

    Rummy, dyspeptic: Holy mackerel! Take me to Dick!

    Clarence: Dick and Lynne run a bait, tackle and baton-twirling
shop in Casper, Wyo. You didn't exist, so you never gave him those
jobs in the Nixon and Ford administrations, and he never ran for
Congress or worked for Bush 41 or anointed himself 43's vice
president. W. chose Chuck Hagel as his running mate. So without you
and Dick there to dominate him, he was guided by his dad and Brent
Scowcroft, who kept Condi in line. Colin Powell was never cut off at
the knees and the U.N. and allies were never bullied. There was never
any crazy fever about Iraq or unilateralism or "Old Europe." Here's
Colin now, heading for the Oval Office.

    Powell: Merry Christmas, Mr. President. With the help of our
allies around the world, we have won the war on terror. And Saddam has
been overthrown. Once Hans Blix exposed the fact that Saddam had no
weapons, the tyrant was a goner. No Arab dictator can afford to be
humiliated by a Swedish disarmament lawyer.

    Rummy: Goodness gracious, I've heard enough now. I'm going home.
Unless you're going to tell me my wife is an old maid, because I
wasn't around to marry her.

    Clarence: Oh, no. Joyce lives across the street from your old
house on Kalorama Road. She's happily married to the French
ambassador.

    "Auld Lang Syne" swells as we Fade Out.

Return to