Hyperbole and exaggeration know no bounds when White House hopefuls try to convince us that they're tough and have been tested under fire.

Starting with her tale of taking incoming on a visit to Bosnia as First Lady, no candidate has played alpha more than Hillary Clinton, to the extent that Bill Clinton is beginning to look like a political Frank Gifford.

The "tough gal" campaign has tickled the funny bone of former P-I Washington, D.C., correspondent Christopher Hanson, who now teaches at the University of Maryland. He has written the following parody of what it was like to be America's co-president in the 1990's. Read it, tongue in cheek:

On our way home from Bosnia, the pilot and copilot died of heart attacks -- aftershocks from gunplay at the airport. I took the controls. The plane developed engine trouble due to AK-47 rounds through the turbines. It was touch and go over the Atlantic, and I had to crash land at Andrews Air Force Base.

After I pulled 17 people out of the burning wreckage, I went back in to retrieve Chelsea's LSAT prep books, getting out just before the explosion. My own acts humbled me.

Then came the ambush of the motorcade that wounded my Secret Service guards, Bob and Ben. Sitting on Chelsea to protect her, I grabbed Ben's Uzi pistol and wiped out eight terrorists just as the guards in the follow-up cars got to us. "Uzi" means "the Lord is my strength." These eight men were the first I had ever killed, despite what the right wing cabalists say about Vince Foster, who was a good man but very emotional.

Killing even terrorists made me sad, but it had to be done. I administered mouth-to-mouth to Chelsea, who had nearly suffocated under me. She recovered quickly, smiled and said, 'Thanks, Mom, are Bob and Ben O.K?'

'Yes, honey, I replied. 'I gave them emergency first aid. They are brave men, from working class families and they are not bitter at having been shot. They are professionals. They would protect elitists with as much courage as they protect us.' This incident, indeed the whole trip, was a mother-daughter bonding experience. I always look for the silver lining.

Back at the White House, I found my husband, Bill, choking on a baked potato. He swallows them whole even though I tell him it's dangerous. He is a good man, but very impulsive. Anway, I cleared the air passage, tilted his head, and administered mouth-to-mouth for the second time that day.

I put Bill to bed with a strong sedative as he mumbled something about the Ireland negotiations, then quickly arranged a conference call with all parties to the dispute. I mediated for several hours and brought peace to the war-torn land.

This was not entirely my doing. The difficult choices of the Irish leaders deserve our praise. I have traveled widely in Ireland and love its beauty. I love the Irish people. I know some Gaelic. I love Guinness and do shots of Murphy's Irish whiskey whenever I am not on the clock. I drive a second hand Ford Escort but never after drinking. Please, always have a designated driver.

Anyway, I was up after two hours sleep, gave the cleaning staff the day off, and did their work while drafting Bill's State-of-the-Union speech in my head. He was still pretty woozy.

"I typed it up in time for him to deliver it to a joint session of Congress that evening. The media declared it "Clinton's best." And for once they got it right. But the credit should go to God. I felt his presence. God would never damn America, despite what some people think.