George Bush and Dick Cheney are enjoying a celebration lunch at a fancy Washington restaurant.  Their waitress approaches their table to take their order; she is young and very attractive.  She asks Cheney what he wants, and he replies,"I'll have the heart-healthy salad."

"Very good, sir," she replies, and turning to Bush she asks, "And what do you want, Mr. President?"

Bush answers, "How about a quickie?"  Taken aback, the waitress slaps him and says, "I'm shocked and disappointed in you. I thought you were bringing in a new administration that was committed to
high principles and morality.  I'm sorry I voted for you." With that, the waitress departs in a huff.

Cheney leans over to Bush, and says, "Mr. President, I believe that's pronounced 'quiche.'"

OMED:  The only moron in the last presidential election was Al Gore.  Bush, the son of a U.S. president and himself a former state governor, is no stranger to fancy foodfests.   (Weak intelligence isn't a condition common to men who have an MBA from Harvard.)  The reason why I ran this joke in the magazine had nothing to do with its obvious target of undeserved scorn, the President.  This joke made me laugh because it perfectly describes me.

Decades back, I was a young advertising man.  On the event of my promotion from copy chief to creative director, I took my wife to the fanciest French restaurant in Seattle.  When the waiter asked which wine we would like to go with dinner, I asked him to bring us a bottle of Chateau Briand.

My wife exploded in gales of laughter for no reason I could understand.   The waiter, however, was spectacular.  With a masterful facial expression that clearly, and with total dishonesty, communicated his complete confidence in my worldly sophistication, he said, "Surely monsieur is joking."

© 2002 Oregon Magazine