Up until a couple of days ago, I, like many people, did not know why President Bush wanted to invade Iraq even before U.N. weapons inspectors plan to finish gathering evidence.

I know Bush had quite reasonably explained that he knows something we don't know and that maybe everybody should just shut their cake-hole. But a poll by Knight Ridder says that only about a third of Americans would support a war without backing from the United Nations. And the more facts that respondents knew about the situation – such as how many Iraqis were involved in the Sept. 11 attacks (zero) – the less they supported an attack.

Still, our nation's leaders are intelligent, so I figured they had a logical way for deciding to invade by March even though the inspectors want to keep searching Iraq for a year. Not knowing how the decision would be made, I believed the most credible account I could find on the Internet, which was that next spring, press secretary Ari Fleischer will drive up to Atlantic City and find a roulette table. If the next number that comes up after he gets there is red, we go to war. But if it comes up black, we go to war. If it's double zeros, we urge caution and continue building up troops until it comes up red.

But then the president called and explained the whole thing.

Hey, it surprised me too. There I was, creating an elaborate flow chart with the various celebrity photos I've pasted over my desk (I'm not a freak; these people are my family), when the phone rang and I found myself talking to some guy who identified himself very convincingly as George W. Bush.

So the president says to me, he says, “Howdy.” The president is from Texas. Not everyone knows that. Where was I? Oh yeah. The president says to me, he says, “Howdy. A few of us here in the Oval Office have been reading our files on you – no particular reason, things are slow – and we decided to take you completely into our confidence. Show you the whole enchilada. Condi Rice in particular thought it'd be a goof.”

Apparently, I had been chosen because I come into contact with so many people – not through my writing, but mainly by being the sort of guy who sits next to you on a bus and starts crying.

“Besides,” the president said, “if you went around giving away national secrets, an FBI report indicates that no one listens to you.”

So he explained the whole thing, we chatted about other stuff, he told me some crude joke about Britney Spears and then he hung up. Now I know the reason behind the president's strategy, and boy oh boy, is it ever good.

But I can't tell it to you.

It's a matter of national security. Also, if I say the wrong thing to the wrong person, the back of my head will explode during a Phish concert. But it's just as well that you don't know Bush's strategy, because if you did, you couldn't tell it to anyone either. In fact, once everybody in the country knows it, we won't be able to say a word, even to each other. We'll all just walk around nodding to strangers, acting smug, sometimes giggling.

But since I can't say the reason, I'll try to convey it through mime.

Uh … OK. Right now I'm rubbing the top of my head while pretending to unwrap a candy apple. Now I'm acting like I'm catching a butterfly. Now the butterfly is loose. Now it's eating raisins in the intake valve of a 2002 Nissan Altima. You see what I'm getting at? No?

Try this: Suppose you've always worn boxer shorts, but then you get a fancy new pair and they have a button-fly. And you think, “Wow! A button-fly! On my underwear!” Now imagine Saddam Hussein wearing them.

You still don't get it?

All right, look. The president knows why we're going to war so soon, and I know why we're going to war so soon. We're the only ones who matter anyway.

You'll just have to take my word for it that it's a good reason. And now that the White House has shown me special favor, I think you also should take my word for it that my credit card is still valid, no matter what Citibank says.