Yesterday, while two presidents looked on, Jenna Bush–one half of the Bush Twins–was married to someone on her father’s Crawford, Texas ranch. I hope you don’t think there was any underlying irony in the writing of that last statement for I assure you there was not. I truly wish them the best. A child is not responsible for the actions of her father and the idea of blood forfeiture has long been banished form American thought. No, you won’t hear me make any ‘Let them eat cake’ jokes; this is her day and she deserves to enjoy it. I’ve always sensed a hidden, perhaps even purposefully covered-up, goodness in the Bush women. I’d even swear I’ve seen Laura Bush, though I can’t prove this, give a muted cringe occasionally while listening to her husband speak. I think that once George is thrown to the wastebasket of history, we may find that these women were, if not likable, quite tolerable. The thing is, while I’m fine with the women, I don’t want to know any more Bush men. Ever.

The question of historical foresight is one that has always fascinated me. What if Abraham Lincoln had skipped the theater that night? What if the Tsar had kept Russia out of World War I? What if we had killed a young, mediocre, Austrian painter named Adolf? The infinite historical possibilities and alternate universes have become not only their own fiction genre, but also political epitaphs to accuse one’s opponent of not doing enough or of doing far too much in the long run. Let me add one such question to the pool: What if Barbara Bush had said “No” that night? Would the world be a safer, more serene and reasonable place? Maybe not, but wouldn’t you like to see, to have tried it, maybe?

But alas, we cannot unbirth George Bush. However, we can prevent the spawning of _____ Bush-(other guys name). This Mother’s Day, I’m humbly asking that Jenna Bush live a long, happy, healthy, productive, married life; and that she do so without children. I’ve already laid out the argument for going childfree, but in Jenna’s case I think we can say that there are a few greater issues at stake than loud-restaurants and limited resources. Bushes seemed predisposed to war, bloodshed, and carnage. Nothing to be ashamed of really, the Irish are known far there familial drinking habits, we Jews for our thriftiness, and so on and so on. But the other thing they seem to be really good at is winning elections. I don’t know why, or what pheromones they emit that seem to constantly endear my countrymen to them; It’s certainly not their eloquent speaking style or singular ability for abstract thought, but somehow we seem to put them in positions of power, again and again and again.

The only cure I see is to stop making the damn things. I lay the future of this cause in the hands of Jenna Bush. I appeal to both her heart and her head: Don’t procreate. Do it for America by not doing it. We can’t take it, not again. The world can’t take. Other worlds–assuming we’ve figured out space-travel when he’s grown up–can’t take it. That is my sole and only wish this Mother’s Day: That Jenna Bush never become a mother. Otherwise, we’ll be damn lucky if we make it to the ‘Global Warming’ disaster.