Press Secretary Tony Snow's Brief Statement to Reporters Concerning Luxury Vet Spa at Walter Reed Hospital

Now as per our playful little jaw session yesterday, I’d like to talk about the supposed lack of resources at the world famous Walter Reed Hospital and Resort. According to you loveable moppets, Democratic senators continue to make the War in Iraq political, and are complaining that Walter Reed is overcrowded, infested with rats, and that overall care for America’s veterans is unacceptable.

First of all, to these Democrats who are new to Capitol Hill and as a party don’t really understand war, except for the Roosevelt, Truman, Johnson, and Clinton Administrations, and dudes like John Kerry, John Murtha, and Jim Webb, let me ask this question: if you loved the troops so much, why would you spend your time pointing at and criticizing 20,000 or so horribly maimed and deformed individuals who’d much rather finger the cold details of their medals while wearing muslin sacks over sickening bodily scars that would make children cry with fear?

Let me state further that Walter Reed is the first exciting, stateside stop on many a noble, wounded hero’s exciting victory parade home, which also includes months and years of painful rehabilitation, post traumatic shock therapy, brief hosannas by local GOP hack politicians, and of course, heartbreaking, liquor-drenched obscurity in a double-wide trailer while pondering tortured dreams of what might have been if only said hero still had a leg(s), arm(s) or face.

That said, the President is for the troops. Big time. He loves the troops, and not because, as Commander in Chief, he can technically order them to hoot and holler when he stoops to use them as poll ‘roids. The President feels passionately about the troops, and not in a gay way. He wants to do right by them, because the more troops who are dying or wounded in his vanity war believe he wants to do right by them, the less will sign up in Heaven to bayonet him in the ass in the after life.

As many of you know, the President makes frequent visits to Walter Reed twice a year, where he glad hands and glad stumps with handsome cripples in the Walter Reed Media Room, where the sheets are crisp, the morphine drips, and the TV gets crystal clear reception on the only two channels that matter: The History Channel and Fox News. He enjoys his quickie photo-ops with these broken, non-Iraq killin’ troops immensely; the hospital reminds him of a frat house, only instead of Beer Pong, it’s Prozac Pong.

Now, for the sake of argument, let’s say Walter Reed Hospital is plagued by mold, leaks, broken elevators, roaches, overcrowding and has been criminally under-funded by an Administration that still thinks it won this war over two years ago. This is hypothetical folks, and off the record, except for the parts that make the President seem like he’s in the saddle, and not cowering under the horse. Let’s say of the dozens of tragic miscalculations made by a chummy cabal of fatass Ivy League aristocrats who spent their youth bonging cognac and playing the board game RISK, the most unfortunate might well be underestimating what war is really like, versus what war was like to John Wayne, and then failing to properly fund the VA, who will now have to care for young men with melted faces and amputated appendages and shattered psyches for the rest of their lives. What could go wrong when you combine the efficiency of the government with the mercy of an HMO? Especially when next to no money is involved?

If, indeed, Walter Reed Hospital is the ghetto-ass leper colony the Democrats, the doctors, the nurses, and the patients all say it is… then the President promises you: something will be done. He was unaware of the alleged neglect, much the way he remains unaware of the civil war between Saudi-backed Sunnis and Iranian backed-Shia, the crumbling of his half-hearted, ad hoc coalition of the willing, and the fact that New Orleans, a city with half its pre-Katrina population, continues to slide into anarchy. But something will be done. Soon. In fact, he might well dispatch some sub-deputy secretary of this or that to hoof on over to Walter Reed with a stack of Maxim Magazines and a couple dozen boxes of Ding Dongs.

On the bright side, high society organization The Oil Matrons Of Houston, continue to spend their Saturday’s sipping pitchers of Mojitos and knitting decorative stump doilies for the wounded boys who so bravely protected their husbands interest in faraway Arabia.

This is Tony Snow, reporting from the White House.