“Everything is in place, Mr. President. The Navy is standing by, the Army is at full-alert status and the Air Force is 10 seconds away from turning Baghdad into a parking lot. Give the word and we’ll blast a new chapter in Middle East history. Furthermore, Mr. President… Mr. President? Uh, were you listening to me?”

“Sorry, Andrew, but I was just looking over this article about the lack of radio diversity. Did you know that the majority of radio stations in this country are owned by a few corporate conglomerates?”

“Of course I know, sir. That’s why it’s so easy to get our message across to the people.”

“Maybe so, but it’s also the reason that radio sucks.”

“Excuse me, Mr. President?”

“Sucks, Andrew. S-U-K-S. Sucks. Last night the First Lady and I were flipping around the dial looking for some mood music like an obscure Rolling Stones cut or maybe an off-track by The Beach Boys, but all we heard was the same thing on every station.”

“I think they call them formats, sir. They’re just giving their audiences what they want. Just like we’re going to do when we carve Saddam a new one. We’re just giving our constituents what they want. Of course, you have to give the order, first. How about it, Mr. President? Our troops are standing by.”

“Diversity.”

“Huh? I mean, pardon me, sir?”

“That’s what’s lacking on the radio today. I mean, when I was a kid growing up in Texas I could hear Bob Dylan, Yes, Cher and KISS all on the same station. Of course, my family owned the station, but that’s just an example of what you can accomplish if you try.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Nowadays, if you want to hear Bone Thugs ‘N Harmony, then you gotta listen to the station that plays that particular group.”

“Makes sense to me, Mr. President.”

“And if you have a hankerin’ for Live, then you have to dial into whatever station is playing that band. I’m telling you, Andrew, there isn’t enough diversity on radio today.”

“I’m sure there isn’t, sir. Now, about Saddam. Special Forces favors dropping a small nuke on his palace. However, the CIA still insists that we tie him to stakes in the desert, pour Aunt Jemima syrup all over him, then -“

“I’ve got to do something about this, Andrew.”

“Yes, sir. Just give the order and we’ll launch the mother of all invasions.”

“No, Andrew. I wasn’t talking about that. Saddam can wait. No matter if it’s today, tomorrow or next week, he’ll still be a ruthless despot with a scraggily mustache and weapons of mass destruction. I’m talking about radio. We have to free the airwaves so that people can have a diversity of artists, like Dave Mason, Shawn Colvin and cKy.”

“But, sir…”

“No longer shall the corporate media giants of our great nation run roughshod over the public’s airwaves with their cookie-cutter formats.”

“But, sir…”

“The people have spoken, Andrew, and I speak for the people. We’re going to smoke out these fat cat broadcasting moguls, break up these radio monopolies and diversify the airwaves so that people won’t have to hunt for obscure, ‘niche’ stations in order to hear Cowboy Junkies or moe.”

“Begging your pardon, Mr. President, but you can’t do that.”

“Of course I can do that, Andrew. I’ll just dash of an order commanding it. Lessee, where did I put my executive order stationery?”

“No, sir. What I mean is you can’t turn back over 20 years of broadcast deregulation.”

“And why not?”

“Because, Mr. President, we’re Republicans.”

“Uh? Oh, yeah. Uh… Thank you, Andrew. I needed that. Where would I be without you?”

“Just doing my job, Mr. President.”