[I'm on the mailing list for Whitehouse.org
, and this is their latest dispatch]
THE PRESIDENT: Thank you all. Thank you all for coming. We had a long night – and a great night. (Applause.) And now, just hours later, here I am already addressing a beautiful crowd of paranoid, fist-pumping, soon-to-be tax-exempt gazillionaires. (Applause.) Yes, as I look around I see that there are finally no self-loathing Negroes in front or behind me, which can only mean one thing: the election is OVER! (Applause.)
Earlier today, Senator Kerry called me to admit that he is a pansy-assed loser. He was very gracious. And so was I. Hell, I even held my hand over the receiver so he couldn't hear me cracking up over all the fruity liberal garbage he was spouting about "healing" and "uniting" the people. (Laughter.)
Oh – I didn't say that, did I?
Because... umm... I don't want to be a divider, I want to be a divider. Wait. Damn. I done pooped that up, too. Take two, dudes. I don't want to be a pussy uniter. I want to be a divider. (Applause.) Good Lord Almighty it feels so dang good to finally be able to say that in public. I ain't running again, so I don't have to say anymore of that bullcrap that you have to say to get elected – like, "Jeb, tear up them nigra ballots, boy!" I kid. No, seriously, the only type of uniting I'm going to be doing is when Democrats curl their Jockeys to their ankles and bend on over! YEE-HAW!
Now, don't get me wrong here: sure, I'll follow this dumb tradition of Presidents saying nice stuff about the same lousy fucker who just tried to stab me in the back. Because so what if my entire political career was built on exploiting wedge issues to inflame and polarize our electorate? By giving some lip service to "unity" today, I'll be able to play the victim next year when Democrats balk over my nominating a KKK grand wizard to the Supreme Court. (Applause.)
So yeah, on the record, Senator JFK Masshole was an admirable, honorable candidate. Off the record, that babbling killjoy tried to sell a story that would put the dead to sleep. I mean, Jesus Christ, where'd that boy study Presidential politics? My marketing whizzes sold the right story, and the little people bought it. That story was "Once upon a time... George W. Bush killed the Bogey Man, then made everyone rich. The end."
I'd like to thank the following folks for enabling my megalomania and understanding how my bloodlust and decorative Christian morals can coexist in a world where truth adapts to my omnipotence – and not visa versy. Thanks first to my wife, who proves every day that Zoloft-laced Smirnoff Ice gimlets can indeed drown out the screams of thousands of Islamiac babies I done pan-fried because they got caught between my divine wrath and Paul Wolfowitz's funny-lookin', but nonetheless lethal little cock.
Thanks also to my twins for bringing in the bimbo, girls-gone-wild, and Young Stepford Wife, and "I've had an abortion but I draw the line at you having one" votes. And thanks to Karl, Karen, Ken, Matthew, and Mark for making Josef Goebbels, Joe McCarthy and Lee Atwater squeal with joy in the bowels of hell. It's too bad history has a pernickety habit of eventually peeling off the duds of the liars, the charlatans, or wolves in Good Samaritan's clothing. Otherwise, you guys would be memorialized with marble statues perched atop pyramids built from the bones of Iraqi civilians and terminally ill oldsters too poor to enjoy the luxury of treating their worthless clogged arteries with bottle of generic aspirin.
But most of all, I'd like to thank every scared shitless, emotionally impotent suburbanite who bought my empty promises of an America based on compassion, Christian mercy, and bashing the shit out of those disgusting faggots! (Applause.)
As I stand before you today, tripping my balls off with power, I promise you three things: I will abolish the income tax, and institute a flat tax that unburdens the rich of paying their fair share and forces white trash to pay an extra 12% for baby formula, Kraft mac and cheese, and Parliament menthols. I promise to privatize Social Security by creating a vast Federal Mutual Fund run by my compadres in regulation free Houston and filling the financial gap between now and the distant future with leprechaun gold. And finally, I promise to hunt Osama Bin Laden down... and shake his hand.
In closing, before I get down to the hard work of bleeding money from social programs in order to underwrite the McJesus Industry, re-segregating the public school system, gang-banging Mother Earth for short-term profit, convincing blue collar labor monkeys that their tax cuts aren't just Band-Aids on a slit throat, and most of all, feeding the Southern Military Welfare State more tax dollars by inventing more Middle Eastern meat-grinders, I wanted to give a little shout-out to all the 48 percent of Americans who supported Senator Droopy McGook-Killa:
I formally invite all of you to commence unquestioning worship of yours truly. If, on the other hand, you nice sodomites in Jew York, San Fag Crisco, and Mick-cago got diaper rash from my holy mandate (and super-sexy popular vote), please, by all means, move your chickenshit asses to Canada, or France, or some atoll in the South Pacific. Because, let's face it, the Democratic Party is the party of scaredy-cat cowards, and crybabies. A party where the broads shave thrice daily, and the men got cunt lips. So run for the border my friends... the GOP and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Thank you, and God Bless George W. Bush's America!