The couple entered the resort's swanky dining room. "I'm sorry," apologized the Maitre d, "but there are no tables available."
"One moment, my friend," said the man, drawing himself up. "I happen to be Gregory R. Carutheres, the sportsman."
"I'd like to accommodate you, Mr. Caruthers, but there just isn't a table available this evening."
"I bet if President Bush came in and asked for a table, there'd be one available."
"Yes-s-s," the other admitted, "I suppose there would be a table available for President Bush."
"Good! I'll take it. George isn't coming!"