A shaken and tangibly agitated Mrs. Rumsfeld held back her tears during a savage post coital cross-examination of the visibly wilted Mr. Rumsfeld.

"Are you just an impotent old fool, or do you simply don't care anymore?, Mrs. Rumsfeld glowered.

"There are situations that we can't always anticipate," answered the defensive Secretary of Defense.  "Did I underestimate the time commitment to complete the mission?  Yes.  Did I think deployment of manpower would be for a limited engagement?  Yes.  Could I have anticipated the unfriendliness of the terrain, the open hostility to the action, or the numerous roadblocks in the way of achieving a satisfactory outcome?  Maybe.  Is there blame enough to go around?  Absolutely.  Is the situation on the mattress going to change anytime soon?  I don't believe so."

"Oh, come on," retorted the frustrated Mrs. Rumsfeld.  "You use the same tired excuse after each incursion.  Frankly, I bet you don't have a clue what you are doing."

"Well my goodness!,” exclaimed the stunned Mr. Rumsfeld.  "If history is any judge, you know that a man jumps into bed with the equipment he has, not the equipment he would like to have.  Are the conditions dangerous?  You bet, especially during the night raids.  Was there adequate protection for our soldier?  Not always.  But sometimes GI Joe is called to duty with nothing but the helmet on his head.  Remember, there was a madman loose ready to unleash unspeakable explosive devastation in the form of a mushroom cloud at a moments notice.  He had to be put down at all costs."

"I don't buy that," Mrs. Rumsfeld barked back.  "Containment was working . . . and isolation."

"No," countered Mr. Rumsfeld in a condescending tone.  "You obviously never shook hands with the Dictator before, let alone engaged in an oral exchange with him.   When I saw the situation growing out of hand, I realized that it was imperative to invade the delta formerly known as the fertile crescent, even though that once historically lush region was now nothing more than an uninviting dry and arid place - an unholy land that has swallowed up many an army that has come before me."

"But you weren't ready for deployment, were you?,” chided Mrs. Rumsfeld.  "You didn't do your homework and jumped in without thinking things through.  So you came up short and fizzled out just when the dirty work needed to be done.  And you don't even know where to look for the g-spot."

"Of course I do," said a defiant Donald Rumsfeld.  It's right over there, and in points east, south, west, and north of there."

"Time to step down, you senile old buffoon," Mrs. Rumsfeld cackled derisively.  "Enough with you limp excuses.  Your half-cocked Shock and Awe incursion into my restricted zone is a failure.  You have no exit strategy, and you lack the resources to stay the course.  The time to withdrawal is now."

"You can't talk to me that way," shouted Mr. Rumsfeld.  "Dick and I are the brains of this operation.  We don't take orders from Bush - we tell Bush what to do!  I say it would be a mistake to pull out now."

"Your performance has been pitiful, Bush is not satified with your service, and it's obvious that you are nothing but a liability,"  Mrs. Rumsfeld concluded.  "Don’t be surprised when Bush finds someone else to replace you."