THE PRESIDENT: Thank you. Please be seated. Good evening. I'm pleased to visit Fort Bragg, "Home of the Special Forces", like Airborne, Delta Force, Rainbow Six, Chuck Norris' Kung-Fu Justice Team, and the Salvation Army Rangers. It is from this highly secretive base that I intend to talk straight and honestly to the American people, surrounded by an audience made up of folks who are programmed like robots to do whatever I say, whenever I say it.

My greatest responsibility as President is to protect the American people. And believe me, you all need protecting. You don't know – I mean, if any of you ever sat in the Situation Room and read half the crap my Chief of Staff Andy Card makes up, you'd shit grits, you know what I mean? So while your greatest responsibility might be figuring out whether to buy Junior glass frames or pay your Visa bill, I'm trying to save your ass from getting nukular-fried.

I hear from friends of friends, that the press – even the objective prophets of Fox News – can't help but mention the recent slew of flesh wounds and roman candles lighting up around Iraq. Now, normally, I just ignore the press. I also ignore reason, logic, and my conscience. I happen to believe that working class folk respect a man who's a straight shooter, who tows the line no matter what, even if you're making a historically tragic mistake. Let me put it this way: saving face is everything. Who cares if you're praying, so long as you show at church on time. Am I right?

Get the GODLY New Book!

I listen to only one person, and that's Jesus Christ. And you know what He tells me? "Hey, hey George – grab a crowbar and pry me down off this durned cross." HAR HAR HAR. That's a joke. Seriously though, He tells me that the only way that any President has pushed through a radical social agenda is to paint himself a "War President" and distract the retarded electorate with a magnificent kill show.

So watch the fun, kiddies. I mean, seriously, those of you actually tuning in to watch this speech think you're politically savvy – which probably means you're upwardly mobile in one way or another. And that means not one of you probably knows a soul fighting in Iraq. Meanwhile, I'll protect you from Sept 11th. And by that, I mean "turn Iraq into a friendly banana republic." I mean, fuck the Chinks, right? They can buy our oil companies, but can they buy a totally awesome Middle Eastern country?

And look – Rummy and Dick are right. The insurgency is in its death throes, and will be that way for the next twelve years. Also: the terrorists in Iraq come from other countries, like Saudi Arabia, Iran, Syria, Jordan, Pakistan, France, and Baghdad. But we are taking the fight TO the Iraqis – because only by shipping America's underprivileged to fight a war on a shoestring budget, and subjecting them to an environment so volatile that their only chance of survival is to slaughter anyone who so much as sneers at them, can we ever hope to give a whole new generation of Arabiac kiddies a reason to try and fly planes into our landmarks.

And so today, I'm standing here to tell you – everything in Iraq is hunky dory. You dig? We are totally on track over there. It's a solid B, B- job. And that's pretty darn good. Just do me a favor, and if those faggots from Gallup or CBS call you and ask how you think I'm doing, tell them that George W. Bush is the only reason that Sept. 11th hasn't happened again and again and again and again and again and again and again.

I'd like to leave you with a little song I've been rehearsing. Hope y'all like it.

You've got to ack-sen-choo-ate the positive!
Eeee-lim-i-nate the negative!
Latch on to the affirmative!
Don't mess with Mister In-Between!

You've got to spread joy up to the maximum!
Bring gloom down to the minimum!
Have faith in Bush and Christ or pandemonium...
Will materialize as bloodthirsty Muslamiacs who devour your beloved puppies and blue-eyed children!

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