As I begin, I choose to thank President George the Double-Yew Bush for his service to our nation. I previously had no notion of the conspiracy of check and their balances innate to this government, did not even know that there was a brand of "congress" save for "sexual," and had only the foggiest notions of justice and thus judiciary. As such, I feel I do need for myself a "native guide" to help in the navigation of this thickety wilderness gouvernemental and invite him to continue his service to Our Nation as an advisor, stored within the properly-aerated and water-tight confines of my Presidential Cabinet.
Claude, Barnabus: please seize the outgoing president.
<pause as two chimpanzees seize 43rd President of the United States of America, George W. Bush, forcing him off stage.>
Ahem. Ours is a nation founded upon many and several great and noble precepts: That it is right and good to take land from your military inferiors, provided their belief, value system and personal hygiene vary somewhat from your own; that dark flesh humans should serve light flesh humans without remuneration; that theocracy is both possible and wise governance; that no treaty is writ in stone nor bound by the iron straps of honor; and finally, that the myth of democracy is far superior both to its complete absence, and to its well executed presence.
We are a Janus-faced nation of Duplicity and Opportunism. It has made us great, and stretched us from sea to shining sea—a vast, searingly dry expanse. Clearly, our first job, our primary job, must be to extend this "Freedom" out beyond these dry and chafesome shores, into the sea, and beyond to other shores. Our fine Double-Yew has done much in this field, laying waste to such desolate dirt folds as I-Rock and the Afghan-of-Stan. Strange beginnings, but solidly so. We shall do more.
I look down upon you, fellow Americaneros—both physically, in that I am upon this fine wooden podium, but also culturally and intellectually, as I am better than you—and I see before me an exhausted nation. It has been a trying and tiresome 229 years, full of hard decisions, unclear paths, uncertain outcomes. Frankland Eleanor Roosevelt did Free you from Want, from Fear, from Speech and from God. Lofty goals. Noble goals. Almost superhuman and preternatural goals—provided your slim and pusilanimous "gods" exist, which I much doubt, save for the Ganesha, Mammon, the Stony Avatar of the Melungeon Spider-God Avram Lincoln, and the Man-Meat Jesus, all of whom I have either met or find highly tenable based upon their descriptions and influence.
But setting these matters theoditic to the side, in policy I shall seek, I now seek, to go one step beyond those noble foundations set by French-Dirt-Light-Mercy Roosevelt, and furnish onto you a Fifth Freedom: The Freedom from Choice.
Worry no longer of choosing things, my dear and gentle countryfolk. You have trusted your votes in me; I have a mandate, and that is this: I will decide, and you will enact, and together we will roll tsunamial across the globe.
Now, I depart from the normal flow of these events, and direct you to the finely crafted female in the creme suit, to my left. This is Ms. Molly Reynolds. She is my intern and your Vice President. Should I be unable to perform my duties, it is Molly to whom you should turn. If Molly is unable, then direct your requests for demands to one of my francophonic chimps. If the chimps are unavailable, please contact your Congressional Representative, for such time as they continue to exist.
Molly, of late, suffered some doubts in the purpose and good of this path. She has since returned to the fold, as is evidenced by her presence here, today. Molly, I voice now my apology for any fright I did impart you, as well as my pride in having you as my Partner in Rule— the first ever female do serve the office, I am told. This would indicate I was incorrect regarding Spiro Agnew. "Grow a penis" indeed. Feh; Internets, why can I not trust you? But, I was in error— as I was about your plot to kill me— and I thus admit my error here, public, before all of my adoring nation. Even Presidents may be in error.
But, to Molly, as a show of my forgiveness, I offer you this gift.
<a chimpanzee wheels out a blue-shrouded box on serving cart; pulling of the cover reveals a terrarium full of crabs>
These, Molly, are land crabs. They are known of many things, and attentive in all. Be aware.
God bless you all, and God bless America.
Now, to the Feasting of this Day!
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Copyright (c) 2000, 2004, David Erik Nelson, Fritz Swanson, Morgan Johnson