“Coretta Scott King’s funeral was not the appropriate venue to punch Jimmy Carter in the groin,” Laura Bush chided the President.
“Well, I’m just getting confused at what’s appropriate and what isn’t appropriate at a funeral these days,” Bush complained as he entered his office.
“I’m going to bake some cookies,” Laura said as she left.
Senator Leahy then entered the office. “You wanted to meet with me about your illegal wiretaps?”
“First off, I don’t think they were illegal,” Bush answered, “but I understand why some people might have concerns about the program. That said, I think it’s a little political opportunistic to try and compare spying on terrorists to Nixon’s wiretaps and the wiretapping of Martin Luther King.”
“We’re just letting the American people…”
Leahy was cut off when Bush punched him the gut. “I’m talking now. In my opinion – and in the opinion of many others – the most disturbing thing about this whole affair is that someone leaked information about a program involved with national security. That’s treason.” Bush then pulled out his peacemaker, cocked it, and placed it against Leahy’s head. “You were identified as the leaker, so now I need to execute you by gunshot to the head to set an example to others!”
Leahy just stammered incoherently out of fear, but then the phone rang.
“What a minute while I answer this,” Bush told Leahy. “What? …Oh, not Leahy? …Well, tell me when you find out who.” Bush hung up the phone. He then decocked his revolver and put it away. “Ends up it wasn’t you, so I won’t kill you… for now. You can leave now… and change your pants.”
Leahy shuffled out of the office, and Bush sat at his desk. “Man, being President is hard,” Bush muttered to himself. “Everyone is always yelling at me and trying to undermine me; I should find another job.” Bush spotted a pad of paper and a pencil on his desk. “I know! I like cartoons, so I’ll be a cartoonist!” Bush thought for a moment and then sketched away. Soon he had a drawing of Mohammed flying a fighter jet that was shooting at Godzilla. “Wow, this has so many layers of political commentary, it’s mind-boggling!” Bush exclaimed as he marveled at his own work. “I better fax this to all the newspapers right now!”
Laura entered the Oval Office carrying a tray. “I have cookies!”
“Give me! I’m a good President!” Bush yelled as he ran for the cookies.
“What have you been up to today?”
“I drew a political cartoon and some newspapers published it,” Bush said between mouthfuls of cookies.
“About what?”
“Uh… I forget. I think it had Mohammed in it.”
Laura dropped the tray. “Didn’t you hear about what happened with the Danish cartoons about Mohammed?”
“No; I never even heard of the country Daneland.”
Laura looked out the window to see a large group of angry Muslim extremists outside the White House gates holding signs saying things like “Death to Blasphemers of Mohammed,” “Those Who Portray Islam as Violent Shall Meet Violent Deaths,” and “No, We Don’t Know What ‘Irony’ Means.”
“Great,” Laura groaned, “you’re going to get the White House burned down for the first time since the War of 1812!”
“That reminds me,” Bush said angrily, “We still need to get the Canadians back for that one.” Bush then spotted Alberto Gonzales walking by wearing his usual poncho and Sombrero of Authority. “Hey! Gonzo! Come here!”
“What?”
“You’re the Attorney General; you have to help us take care of these crazy Muslims.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
Laura and Bush followed Alberto outside. Alberto then went to the front gate, opened it, grabbed a crazy Muslim, pulled a piñata bat out from under his poncho, and started beating the Muslim silly. “Stop being stupid, stupid!”
A reporter came up to Alberto. “Are you torturing a Muslim?”
“I’m beating a Muslim, you stupid gringo,” Alberto answered. “You reporters need to learn the difference between torture and beatings one of these days.” Alberto then started hitting the reporter with his piñata bat. “Maybe you learn now!”
“Gonzales and his piñata bat just aren’t going to solve this problem,” Laura told Bush. “You need to go on TV and set things straight.”
“Can it be the Daily Show?”
“No!”
“I’m Tim Russert, and this is Meet the Press.”
“You’re named after a potato!” Bush exclaimed.
“Uh, not actually… anyway, our guest today is President Bush here to explain his cartoon about Mohammed.”
“I don’t see why there is outrage,” Bush stated. “If you look at the life of Mohammed, I think it’s accurate to say that, if Godzilla attacked a city, Mohammed would get in a F-16 and fight the monster.”
“But, President Bush,” Russert said, “that isn’t the issue so much as that many Muslims find any depiction of Mohammed to be disrespectful of their religion.”
“Well, I can’t keep track of everyone’s crazy beliefs! I mean, just look at the leftards on the internet; if I tried to keep track of all the crazy things they believe, I’d end up as crazy as they are.” Bush then looked straight into the camera. “Still, to all the non-violent Muslims who were offended by this cartoon, I’d just like to say… in your face! I made fun of your prophet! And what are you going to do about it? Nothing! That’s what! Go write some letter to the editor and see if I care!
“But, to the violent Muslims out there who want to kill me for my cartoon, I offer my deepest apologies. It was a total accident; my pen slipped, and suddenly there was a drawing of Mohammed. It happens sometimes. I hope you’ll forgive me and not burn down the White House.”
“In response,” Russert said, “we have a Muslim extremist – coincidentally named Mohammed – to give us his views. Mohammed?”
The Muslim extremist fired an AK-47 in the air. “Kill Bush! Kill infidels!”
“On to plan B,” Bush said as he pulled out a super-soaker and sprayed the Muslim. The Muslim screamed in pain and then melted into a puddle of goo. “So that’s why they don’t like bacon grease,” Bush remarked, “it melts them and sends them straight to hell!” Bush then turned back to the camera. “All you Muslims out there being violent, I will spray you with bacon grease! I will! I want America to be known as the country with the nicest Muslims, so all you behave this instant!” Bush then pumped his super-soaker a couple time to emphasize his point.
“Do you have any other message for the American people?” Russert asked.
Bush thought for a moment and then looked up to the camera. “Ted Kennedy’s head is huge! I mean, you can see it’s big on TV, but it’s even bigger in person! You really have to see it for yourself. I hope that once his liver gives out, they’ll preserve his head in one of those Ripley’s Believe It or Not museums.”
Russert just stared at Bush for a second. “Uh… anything else?”
Bush leaned back in his chair. “No… I think that covers everything.”
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