On the evening of April 30'th, 2005, the White House Correspondents' Association held their annual dinner. A transcript of the speech given by First Lady Laura Bush follows.
PRESIDENT BUSH: (Over muted table conversation and clinking glasses) So. Uhm. Can't wait to hear Cedric the Entertainer. I love them black fellas. with their. humor. an' all. I'm Rick James, Bitch! So. uhmn. anyways, Cedric, did you hear that hilarious line I ad-libbed down in Arkansas? A woman in a town meeting told me she was from DeQueens. n' I up and says 'I'm workin' on a law to keep them people from adoptin'!. I said 'I'm workin on a law. So anyways, in Montana? I told a joke about a cattle guard. Cedric, you can use it if you want to on that there. Chapelle show. See, there was this city slicker"
(First lady comes to podium, indicates she is interrupting him in a hysterical faux unrehearsed moment of prepared candor.)
LAURA BUSH: "Not that old joke, not again. I've been attending these dinners for years and just quietly sitting there. Well, I've got a few things I want to say for a change."
(President Bush clumsily indicates surprise. Polite Laughter)
"This is going to be fun because he really doesn't have a clue about what I'm gonna' to say next. That's just a kind of subset of him not having a clue, period."
(Laughter. President makes a "G'wan, Pshaw" type dismissive wave at First lady.)
"George always says he's delighted to come to these press dinners. Baloney. He's usually in bed by now. Plus, he hates the press like cancer.
I'm not kidding.
I said to him the other day, "George, if you really want to end tyranny in the world, you're going to have to pay at least marginal attention to affairs of state, and it would be good if you went to some cabinet meetings. I mean, Jesus, you're the President of the United States does that even register with you? A whole buncha disenfranchised Black Folk are gonna be mighty angry if they find out they got intimidated out of voting just so you could catch up on your Beauty Rest!
Know what Condi's like when she hasn't had her morning cup a Joe? Think that multiplied by all the steroids Jose Canseco injected into Marc McGuire's ass!
That's the kind of Black Anger I'm Talkin' about, George!"
(Uproarious laughter. President shoots Pepsi out his nose.)
"I am married to the president of the United States and here is our typical evening. Nine o'clock, Mister Excitement here is sound asleep, and I am watching Desperate Housewives with Lynne Cheney.
Ladies and gentleman, I am a desperate housewife.
If those women on that show think they're desperate, they ought to be with George.
He does not even try to satisfy me in the marital department anymore. Doesn't make so much as an obligatory gesture in that direction, even on my birthday. That's desperate.
(Quiet, nervous laughter.)
One night after George went to bed; Lynne Cheney, Condi Rice, Karen Hughes and I went to Chippendales. I'm a Christian Woman, but that doesn't mean I can't get itchy watching some ripped, oiled-up Homo in a bow tie shake his package in my face! You would not BELIEVE how close these fellas get! Let's just say my Private dancer was as Jewish as Ari Fliescher!
(Laughter. President looks puzzled)
THANK GOD WE FIRED THAT KIKE!
(President laughs, points into audience at Richard Gere)
PRESIDENT BUSH: Laura, Laura, hey, lookit, Laura, Richard Gere, he's a Jew, ain't he?
LAURA BUSH: No, George. Look, the Secret Service is getting all nerved up. Don't worry boys, he's drinkin' Pepsi. He just talks that way because Prescott and his Mama were first cousins.
(Sustained Guffaws. Christiana Amanpour falls out of her chair)
I won't tell you what happened at Chippendale's, but Lynne's Secret Service code-name is now Dollar Bill.
See that, now, George, you retard, you killed my rhythm. That's how we got the twins, Ladies and Gentleman, see, George doesn't believe in contraception. We used the rhythm method, but George is so damn white he CAN'T KEEP A BEAT!!
(Amazed, hysterical laughing. Judy Woodruff's head explodes)
THANK YOU, THANK YOU!
Okay, settle down now.
But George and I are complete opposites - I'm quiet, he's talkative, I'm introverted, he's extroverted, I'm sober, he 'eats pretzels and passes out from choking' every once in a while.
I can pronounce nuclear -
(Raucous Laughter. Hannity and Colmes pound each other on back.)
Karl Rove continues to allow Bush to mispronounce it because he needs George, but he also despises him for the bovine meat puppet he is.
(A smattering of confused, fearful tittering)
The amazing thing, however, is that George and I were just meant to be. I was the librarian, who spent 12 hours a day in the library, yet somehow I met George. Thank God I'm not a Hindu. I'd hate to think what I'd done in my last life. Plus, I don't wanna wear a diaper and have a dot on my head!
George would think I had a zit!
'Duh, say, there, Laura, ya'll gots ya-self one a' them there acme's!'
(Unfettered, barbaric laughter. Robert Novak leaps up on table, tears open shirt, smears chest with Au Jus, Howls like rabid Mandrill)
How am I doin' Cedric?
(Laughter. Cedric the entertainer rolls eyes, exposing whites, grin's hugely so audience can see gigantic white choppers. Does a quick shuffling tap dance.)
People often wonder what my mother-in-law is like. They think she's a sweet, grandmotherly Aunt Bee type. She's actually more like Don Corleone!
No, no, not Don Corleone! SCARFACE
'Don' chew fuckin' fuck with the fuckin' BOOSH family, you fuckin' fuck!'
(Amazed, tearful laughter.)
I'm serious! That woman is friggin' terrifying! I once saw her tackle a Mexican gardener and bite off his left nut for letting some Begonias wilt!
Oh give me a break, it's not like the fuckin' Beaner was a legal.
(Pause, then Laughter on an unprecedented scale. Wolf Blitzer tumbles onto back, rolls in aisle, wets himself in delight)
So George is a real cowboy. real outdoorsmen. LOVES to be out on the ranch, has to get back there like the light of the universe shines out the asshole of Texas. Can't show his own wife a good time, but he sure as hell has a spare moment to tip toe through the Tulips with Crown Price Abdullah. I don't want to cast aspersions on the crown prince, but, George, have you noticed he's WEARING A DRESS??
I MEAN, COME ON NOW! SEROIOUSLY, LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, WHAT THE HELL IS THE WHOLE QUEER DEAL WITH THOSE ARAB QUEERBOES?!
I don't know, maybe it's not their fault. Hell, if you dressed my George in a bag and with nothin' but an eye slit to see his flesh through, HELL, I might start holding hands with CHICKS!!
YOU HEAR ME KAREN HUGHES!? I'M LOOKIN' AT YOU, GIRLFRIEND!
(More laughter than you can shake a stick at.)
ANY-hoo. You know I love my George. I kid him. I have to, his approval rating is so much lower than mine, if I didn't get up at Dog and Pony shows like this and haul his ass out of bottomless pit he keeps digging. Say, speakin' of Pony shows! George didn't know much about ranches when we bought the place. Andover and Yale don't have a real strong ranching program. That's one of the lies he told me before we were married. The other one accounts for my poor depth perception.
(Slowly snowballing laughter as joke sinks in)
Cedric knows what I'm talking about!
Cedric, come see m after the show! We'll slip George a few Pretzels and GET DOWN!!
(Woofing, Cat calls, elephant trumpeting)
Now, of course, he spends his days clearing brush, cutting trails, taking down trees, or, as the girls call it, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. George's answer to any problem at the ranch is to cut it down with a chainsaw - which I think is why he and Cheney and Rumsfeld get along so well. Good thing brush don't scream like Iraqis do!!
(Laughter, chants of "U.S.A. U.S.A!!)
But I'm proud of George. He's learned a lot about ranching since that first year when he tried to milk the horse. What's worse, it was a male horse. George has learned a lot about ranching since that first year in Waco, when he tried to milk the horse.
What's worse, it was a male horse.
(Laughter. Charles Krauthammer pantomimes diddling an enormous, invisible penis.)
I'm not kidding, I walk into the barn, I'm like 'JESUS H. TOOTHPICKS, GEORGE, YOU ARE JACKING OFF A HORSE, YOU NUMB TIT! YOU'RE BREAKIN' OUR MARRIAGE VOWS GIVIN' A HORSE A FUCKIN' HAND JOB!!WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?
(Silence. Lengthy pause)
Ah, fuck all a ya's anyways.
(First Lady storms off. Thunderous applause. First lady strides back on, curtsies. Crowd leaps to feet. Britt Humes' soul ascends to heaven. Grinning, first lady gives audience the finger, both hands. Crowd goes Beatles-on-Ed-Sullivan Berserk. Editorial staffs of New York Times, Washington Post embrace, weeping. Collectively agree to forgive President for amazingly moronic Social Security views.)
YOU'VE BEEN A TREMENDOUS AUDIENCE!! TRY THE VEAL AND DON'T FORGET TO TIP YOUR WAITRESSES, YOU SKINFLINT BASTARDS! GOODNIGHT!
(Laughter. Applause. Fade to black.)