Convention delegates, members of the Republican Party, my fellow Americans: It is my privilege to accept the nomination of our party, the Republican Party, to be your president for four more years.
Looking out at this crowd, I see so many people who will be vital to our struggle to undermine social justice by distracting the country with a pall of fear. People like Vice President Cheney, Secretary Rumsfeld, Deputy Secretary Wolfowitz, and my high-school girlfriend, Debbie Christianson.
Wow, Debbie Christianson. Haven’t thought about you in years. You look great, though, like you haven’t aged. Still really cute. But what are you doing with my cabinet?
And with you I see our ninth-grade English teacher, Eileen Sanderson. A great American, Ms. Sanderson, who, amazingly, also hasn’t aged. It’s good to see you, although you both look like ghosts, and I don’t recall inviting you to the convention. But I remember that class. Those were good times.
Yes, fellow Republicans, the past was a good time for America. But now that time is gone. Instead of dwelling on it, we should remember the fear we all face, and the time Debbie and I were at the base of the Phillips Academy bell tower, trying to have sex.
Sorry, that just came back to me. Couldn’t help it. But Debbie’s face is there, and it’s all I can see, and the bell tower is striking midnight, and we’re hidden in the bushes, Debbie, and I can’t unclasp your bra. It’s happening all over again. Why do you have that expression on your face? Now you’re rolling your eyes, and storming off. It’s all so real. Just like it’s really happening.
Where was I? Oh yes, we’re a strong nation. Afraid, but still strong. Wait, where are my pants? Oh my God, how could they let me up here with no pants? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Where’s Karl? My shirt tails barely cover me … oh this is awful … maybe if I hunker down here …
Delegates, members of our party, while I’m hunkered down here, please look up at the overhead Jumbotron, where you will see, if I’m not mistaken, images of me, wearing only my cheerleading sweater, being paddled by two young men dressed only in leather thongs. Good Lord. That’s the basement of Skull and Bones. Why are they showing this? What’s going on?
Ladies and gentleman, I don’t know what Debbie is doing here, I’m sorry I’m not wearing pants, and I can explain the naked spanking. But for now, can we please just turn off the overhead Jumbotron? I have a speech to give here.
Wait—I can fly. Wow, I just concentrate and I float up off the ground. How come Karl never told me I could fly? Maybe this is part of our plan for the second term, give the president the power of levitation and flight. I wonder if they could make it so I could read minds too? No need to search library records then; I could just read the minds of the suspected domestic evildoers. Being president is so great.
My fellow Americans, in wartime our country needs an all-powerful figurehead, preferably one who can fly and read minds. And that all-powerful figurehead is me! Me, me, me! Watch out, I’m going to fly around the convention hall!
Woo-hoo, out the door and I’m flying through Manhattan! Hey, look at those crowds. What a sight! All the banners and signs. Seems a little too contentious to me, though. Too much dissent only helps the evildoers.
Hello, tiny people of New York! Listen to me! Your war president commands you to disperse! Yes, move along. America is not a land for extremists. Now they’re chanting my name. That’s better. Yes, “Boooooooosh.” They love me!
I wonder how my flying will play in the polls? Might have to get Karl to spin it, so it doesn’t seem showoffy. At least next time I won’t need that plane to land on the carrier. I’ll just land myself. That’ll be even better. Just have to remember to lose the banner next time. The postwar was fine until someone flew that banner.
Karl?
Zoom, I’m circling the Chrysler Building! Hey, you! Yes, you with the street puppet! And you, with the bullhorn and the candle! Look at me! I am your war president and I can fly! Yee-haw!
Wait, now I’m at a cabinet meeting. How’d I get here? This is not fun like flying. Pretty animated cabinet meeting, though. There’s Cheney scolding Rumsfeld again, and Condi is making eyes at me. Typical. We’re discussing the invasion of Iran and Syria, but I can’t seem to speak or move my limbs. It’s like I’m encased in mud. Can’t make my usual definitive gesture. Takes all my strength just to lift my hand to the table. When did my arms get so heavy?
Whoa, back on stage. That’s a big crowd. Everyone is cheering. Look at all that glittering confetti. Get a hold of yourself here, George boy. Just read the teleprompter.
Thank you, America! It is my honor to accept your nomination! Tax cuts for the rich will help the economy! Shopping is freedom! Together, we’re winning the war on terror!
With your help we will win in November!
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