George W. Bush is going through a midlife crisis. Bill Clinton had one too at about this point in his term. We all know how Clinton dealt with his, but with Bush, it’s a whole different story. It’s not that he went out and bought a Porsche or turned Camp David into a “members only club.” Far from it. Rather, Bush suffers from something I’d like to call “Caucus Envy” — you know, that big get-together in Iowa that’s not Find a Minority Day. After all, Clinton had a caucus. A huge caucus. And by caucus I mean penis.

First, Dubya sent warplanes after the Taliban, who almost defeated American forces except for the fact that their guns are made out of wood and fire sand. Really annoying sand. Then, he invaded Iraq.

But as of last week, it seems Bush has set his aims even higher. Having been less than satisfied with his previous invasions, the president announced that he would now like to invade both the moon and Mars. No word on whether or not he plans to incorporate them as states, but that would be one way to piss off Puerto Rico.

Maybe he’s still looking for Osama. He could be living on the moon. I mean, we’ve searched everywhere else. Where could he be? (Psssst: He’s in Pakistan!! On the Earth. Just give me a gun and a travel guide.)

Or are we still looking for weapons of mass destruction? Mars is probably the best place to start. Because if you thought the Taliban had sand, Mars is just exploding with the stuff. And it’s not normal sand either, it’s super scary red sand.

It’s also possible that during storytime at the White House, a precocious sixth-grader let it slip that “planets are where oil comes from.” In response, Bush offered to help renew the struggling Mars economy. Well, OK, maybe that’s a little farfetched. I mean, come on, Bush can’t read.

An even more plausible explanation is that, after Homeland Security Secretary Tom Ridge briefed the president on the importance of curbing illegal alien immigration, Bush just got really, really confused.

Still, this isn’t Texas. You can’t just buy the moon. And then, once you’ve bought the moon, you can’t move a baseball team there and use the zero gravity atmosphere to create the best hitting team in history. Now that’s one small step for man, and one giant leap for a guy who several years ago was nearly assassinated by a pretzel.

Call me a pacifist, but when I have my midlife crisis, just buy me a Porsche.

Communication junior and PLAY humor columnist Dave Holstein wishes his sister Lauren a happy b-day. He can be reached at [email protected].