I would imagine that the decision to turn in his putter as a tribute to all of the fallen victims of his unnecessary war was a difficult decision. Thinking of how he might relate the story to his grandchildren when they asked, "What did you do in the war, Granddaddy?", Bush must have gone through some tortured soliloquy like Hamlet, to determine just what honorable thing he might tell his grandchildren he did during the war. The Decider had to think long and hard to come up with something before he finally hit upon giving up golf. I imagine his thoughts might have gone something like this if he is indeed capable of any thought:
To golf, or not to golf
That is the question
Whether 'tis nobler to express any guilt
For having cronies earn an outrageous fortune,
For imaginary arms creating a sea of troubles,
And by supposing war could end them?
To lie, to speak
So callously of those who sleep knowing
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That parents dread
Were caused in vain
To satisfy our wish
To lie, to speak
To speak
Perchance to scream
Ay, there's the rub
For in that sleep of death no sound may come
From those who have shuffled off this mortal coil
Whose deaths must give us pause
Where's the respect
That makes homage of so brief a life
For those who bore the whips and scorns of mine,
My oppressive wrongs, the rich man's contumely,
The lies of despised men, the law's delay,
The insolence of power and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When I myself might some gesture make
Lay down my clubs and golf course forsake,
To forego the sun and the pampered green,
With downcast look and be in public seen
As the sorrowful leader who sent men to die
For oil and wealth and a traitorous lie
The unrecover'd country must still mourn
My strange behavior puzzles still
And angers those who bear my ills
And long for others to take my place
Thus ignorance does make cowards of us all
And thus the greatness of this nation
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of corruption
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of truth
Soft you now!
America weeps and in her history
Be all my sins remember'd
With apologies to Shakespeare, Hamlet, and all of those who have suffered for this man's pride and ignorance.