"Stuck With Bush Sr. Everwheres I Go"

by Bill Clinton, Guest Blogger
It started out pretty simple. President Bush called me to work with his father to promote the US Tsunami Relief effort. So Bush Sr. and I got together and filmed some PSA’s and made a few speeches together. I think people liked seeing us former political adversaries up there getting along and raising money for a truly important cause. Little did I know what I'd signed on for…

The Tsunami Relief Fund wanted to get the two of us out to southeast Asia to tour the devastation. To save money, they put George H.W. and I on the same plane. I gave him the only bed while I slept on the floor of the plane, even though I'd just had heart surgery. Of course George W. made a call and most of the news outlets killed the story (you can google it and see for yourself).

But get this... Bush Sr. and I were touring the awful devastation in this country and people’s homes were all washed away and their lives were destroyed and he says to me, “Bill?” and I says “Yeah?” He says, “Are we sposed to eat anytime soon? Is there a buffet later or something?” And I said, “I really don’t know, George.”

“You think there’s a taco stand or a McDonalds nearby or something?” And then, I swear to God, he picked up a box of saltines out of the rubble and actually looked inside. Luckily there was no crackers in it, ‘cause if George Bush ate a cracker out of the tsunami garbage I would have just fell over right there!

Now, that is not the end of the story of course, cause all the sudden whenever there is a State dinner or something and I'm invited, who do you think they seat me with?

You guessed it! Good God, where is Gerald Ford when you need him?

Then Pope John Paul II died. And on the sad occasion of his funeral, something happened that really rattled me...

Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi and I had tentatively made arrangements to go out drinking the night before the funeral. But when I arrived in Rome, Silvio bristled and said he couldn’t go.

So Jacques Chirac says to me the next morning, “Where were ya, Bill? Me, Silv and Cardinal Vascala went bar hopping last night. You missed a good time.” So I went to Silvio and said, “What gives?”

Silvio goes all steely, leans in and says, “It’s not you, Bill. It’s your shadow.” And he points to Bush Sr. who’s walking up at that very second. And Bush is all "Do I have time for a pitstop, if you know what I mean?" Then he gives a wink to Archbishop Antonelli and says, “Hey, good luck in the Pope vote.”

I’m like holy hell, he did not just say that. I mean, John Paul isn’t even in the ground yet and he’s saying something like that.

I mean, that’s just wrong. Don’t you think?

So the funeral starts and we're sitting there in front of the body and it's really just this incredibly reverent, awesome moment of silence and Bush leans over to me and says, waaay too loud, by the way, "It looks like he's sleeping, doesn't it?" And I'm trying to ignore him, you know, but he can't let it go. "Bill?" he says even louder, "Doesn't it look like he's sleeping?"

Let me tell you, I looked up from prayer and just gave him the look from hell. But he starts shakin' his head, "You don't think he's actually sleeping, do you? That would be awful." Bush didn't say a word the rest of the ceremony so maybe he got the message.

Already, he's hinting around at playing golf sometime. No disrespect, but I just want to hide under a blanket for six weeks with the phone off the hook and pray there's not another State funeral to go to. If there is, I swear to God, I'm gonna jump in the hole with whoever's bein' buried. Of course George'd probably just jump in after me. "Is this the way to the receiving line, Bill?"

I mean, come on now! Is it me??