American Freak Show

by Willie Geist

  “I guess in my heart I always knew I’d end up here. When I was taking all that money from little old ladies to buy rare African art for my place in Montauk or ripping off children’s charities to put an infinity pool and one of those big, industrial-size outdoor grills in the place in Palm Beach, I knew it was wrong, but evil is addictive—am I right, Joseph Stalin?”

  Madoff looks down the dais to Stalin, who is passed out face-first in a pool of his own vomit. Mussolini is drawing a penis on his face with a black Sharpie. Madoff is losing the room.

  “Anyway, I’m honored to be here in Hell. It’s a lot better than making license plates in a federal prison for 12 cents a day. That was just demeaning for a man of my means.” Madoff gets a laugh from the crowd.

  “And my sincere thanks to Pol Pot for hosting tonight’s event. You’re overshadowed in the history books by other twentieth-century dictators, but let it not be forgotten that you are one of the biggest assholes in the history of the planet—and one hell of a roastmaster.

  “One last thing: I know it sounds crazy, but please do look me up when considering your financial future. Eternity is a long time: are you ready? Thank you all for your kind welcome to Hell.” Pot comes to the podium and gives Madoff a long hug as the crowd applauds.

  As the guests begin to disperse, Pot rushes to the microphone with one last announcement. “Hang on, gang. Before you leave, we want to let everyone know that Pablo Escobar has been kind enough to host the after-party at his compound tonight. One important note: if you decline his invitation, members of your family will be executed in public and fed to exotic crocodiles for Pablo’s personal entertainment. See you all there.”

  Chapter 12

  Go-karts and Waterslides: The George W. Bush Presidential Library

  George Walker Bush, the forty-third president of the United States, has been involved intimately in the planning of his presidential library and museum on the campus of Southern Methodist University in Dallas. President Bush has been especially generous with his time since he was relieved, by a unanimous coaches’ vote, of his duties as commissioner of the Highland Park Little League Association. One team mother called Bush’s tenure as commissioner “a complete f**king mess.” Mr. Bush has called his removal as commissioner “unconstitutional” and the public criticism of his performance “probably unconstitutional.” The president’s tumultuous three months in that position will not be included in the museum, library, or public policy institute that bears his name.

  President Bush has insisted, in the spirit of a full accounting of his legacy (except for the Little League thing), that the very first planning and development memorandum he sent to the executive committee of the George W. Bush Presidential Center become part of the historical record preserved there. He didn’t have to make this public, mind you. We tried to protect him, but he’s proud of the document. He calls it his “Jerry Maguire moment.” Wants it framed and hung inside the center’s main entrance next to the display of “The President’s Favorite Sluggers,” a collection of baseball players’ posters that includes those of Frank Thomas, Rafael Palmeiro, and Boog Powell.

  In fact, Mr. Bush wants visitors to be able to sift through a compilation of all his presidential e-mails in what he envisions as “one of those cool hologram information things Tom Cruise used to solve crimes in Minority Report.” President Bush likes Tom Cruise movies . . . a lot. Especially Days of Thunder and Cocktail.

  Bear in mind, we’ve quietly ignored most of the ideas you’re about to read. He absolutely will not budge, however, on the go-kart track.

  * * *

  To: staff@gwbushlibrary.gov

  From: Prez43@yahoo.com

  Re: George W. Bush Presidential Center

  What’s shakin’ y’all! I don’t mean to brag right out of the gate, but I just beat my all-time high score on Centipede. I took a Polaroid of the screen and sent it in to Atari. I think they send you a plaque or an iron-on patch or something. I’ll put it down there in the basement with all the weird crap those African presidents give you when you visit (thanks for the sawed-off elephant tusk, Prime Minister Mugatu. Anyone have any idea what I’m supposed to do with this thing?). Anyway, I guess you could say I made a little presidential history downstairs in the A/V room today.

  Little known fact (and we should throw this in the library somewhere): in 1997, Jeb and I competed in “The Bush Olympics” up at Kennebunkport to decide who’d get to run for president. He won sport fishing and movie trivia. I won hold-your-breath-underwater, home run derby, and Centipede. Guess what? I’m president. I don’t even know what Jeb does these days (I want to say lawyer? Banker? Tailor? One of those).

  Anyway, I guess we’ve gotta do this library/museum thing. Honestly, I’d just as soon erase those eight years from the record books like they were Barry Bonds’s career stats and go back to the jai alai fronton for the rest of the afternoon. I mean, do people really want to visit a place to relive that nightmare? I seriously doubt it. Jesus Christ, it was horrible the first time. Trust me. I was there. Having said all that, I want you to know I really appreciate all the work you’ve been doing to make this president center happen. It’s not your fault that it’s a terrible, terrible idea. I can tell you one thing: we’re gonna do it our way.

  This is kind of like a manifesto (à la Jerry Maguire—Show me the money!). I’ll fire off a few thoughts for you to chew on, but my big headline (and I’ll preach this until I’m blue in the face) is DO NOT MAKE THIS THING ALL LIBRARY-ISH!! I’ll say it again because I don’t want there to be any confusion: DON’T MAKE MY PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY ALL LIBRARY-ISH!! In fact, let’s not call it a library at all. People hate libraries. Reminds them of school and late fees. Why would we build something people hate? Instead we’re gonna call it an Entertainment SuperPlex. Comprenday? (“Understand” in Spanish.)

  Our SuperPlex won’t be all stuffy and quiet and full of boring books about presidents nobody’s ever heard of (i.e., Frank Pierce, Jimmy K. Polk, Millard Fillmore [Caution! Nerd name!], etc.). I used to go to my dad’s museum over in College Station to hear speeches by Hank Kissinger and Rummy and I’d look around while they were rambling on and think to myself, “This place is screaming for a batting cage.” So we WILL have batting cages at my Entertainment SuperPlex. That’s an executive order! (I just like saying that now—those dicks never listened when I used to say it in the Oval Office.) Sounds important and forceful, like Harrison Ford in that movie Air Force One—“Get off my plane!” Great flick.

  So here’s the mission: make this a place where people would actually WANT to go. Our competition isn’t another snoozer library full of geeks and presidential groupie freaks who like sniffing the ink on old Oval Office memos. Our competition is Six Flags Over Texas, which is full of awesome party people who wear tank tops, jean shorts, and Tevas. Six Flags has the Shock Wave roller coaster. What do we have? Policy papers on Medicare and a stapler off John Ashcroft’s desk? Zzzzzzzzzzz . . . sorry, I fell asleep for a second there. That was not for effect. I literally fell asleep in the middle of writing a sentence.

  You think a bunch of eighth graders on a field trip want to look at some bullshit about the Sarbanes-Oxley Act? Hell no! They want waterslides! So let’s give ’em waterslides! Two waterslides, in fact: one open-topped with tons of twists and a huge drop at the end and then one of those scary covered ones where you can’t see anything ’til you get right to the end. Jesus, I just pissed my pants thinkin’ about it! And a wave pool. And an IMAX theater with a snack counter that sells Twizzlers. This SuperPlex is gonna be so much cooler than my dad’s presidential dork-out center.

  I’ll be interested to hear your thoughts on the George W. Bush Kick-ass SuperPlex (remember, NO nerd ideas), but let’s get these ones in the pipeline ASAP while they’re on the top of my head. I’ll forget ’em while I’m bonefishing with Sammy Hagar down in Cabo for the rest of the month. Write these babies down:

  1. America vs. Terrorists laser tag played in a big, dark warehouse
full of swarthy-lookin’ actors to play the Taliban dudes. Reminds people we kept them safe for 7 years.

  2. Interactive John Yoo Torture Memo Experience. (Make this fun and kid-friendly—lighten up a touchy issue. Waterboarding dunk tank? Let’s think.)

  3. “Bush Munchers” Food Court (with “Heck-of-a-Job Brownies!” bakery and definitely a Quiznos).

  4. “Rock and Rove” Karaoke Thursday nights. Ladies drink free, 9 p.m.–?????

  5. Wrestling matches with those hilarious giant sumo fat suits. Those crack me up!

  6. Dick Cheney/Condi Rice salt-and-pepper shakers at the gift shop. (See, he’s white and she’s black. Salt and pepper. How great is that?!) Also “the Decider” trucker caps.

  7. Nolan Ryan autograph booth.

  8. “No Child Left Behind” kiddie coaster.

  9. Go-karts, go-karts, go-karts! (Must have mini-golf and chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.)

  10. The Harriet Miers 24-hour Steakhouse and Titty Bar.

  Important note: Let’s put the Iraq and Katrina stuff on the top floor with a clever sign that says MISSION NOT YET ACCOMPLISHED! WE’RE REMODELING . . . blocking the stairs so no one goes up there. That stuff is a bummer and could ruin an otherwise awesome day of go-karts, waterslides, and karaoke at the George W. Bush Presidential Entertainment SuperPlex.

  As you all know, nothing is more important to a president than his legacy. How will history remember the guy? Well, if we go with what we’ve got now, I’m screwed in that department. The San Francisco hippies at Rolling Stone said I might be the worst president ever. Of course they were all high on mushrooms and having gay sex with each other when they said that, but that’s what I’m up against out there. Gay hippy druggie college professors are the ones who write the history books. The rest of us have real jobs.

  It’s our job right now to get the focus off the WMDs of yesterday and onto the funnel cakes and free pony rides of tomorrow. Let’s rewrite history together, my friends. This is our time.

  Peace and love,

  W.

  TRUE STORY . . .

  DUDE, WHERE’S MY WEED?

  Man calls 911 to report stolen marijuana

  We could argue all day about whether or not marijuana is physically harmful or whether or not it should be legal, but that’s a conversation for another day. Okay, let’s argue for just a second: it’s not harmful and it should be legal. Anyway, whatever your position on the decriminalization of pot, one thing I think we can all agree on is that weed makes you dumb as hell.

  Just ask the 21-year-old Salem, Oregon, man who called 911 to report to police that his marijuana had been stolen. Police are of course the state and municipal officials charged with enforcing the laws of the land—so not the first people to turn to when your drugs go missing. According to the cops, the man called the emergency number furious because someone had broken into his truck outside the Free Loader Tavern in Salem and stolen his jacket, $400 in cash, and, yes, just shy of an ounce of marijuana.

  Now maybe you write that off as a drunken fluke if it happens once, but the guy called 911 an hour later to complain that police had not yet responded to his first report of the stolen weed. For my money, the best line of the local news report on the incident was as follows: “The dispatcher had trouble understanding [the man], who stopped several times to throw up.” Yes, he was driving around looking for the people who stole his weed, stopping occasionally to barf by the side of the road.

  Police eventually found the man and arrested him on charges of driving while intoxicated. They could not file drug charges because, as you’ll remember from the man’s repeated 911 calls, there was no marijuana. Someone had stolen it.

  Chapter 13

  Parenting Magazine: Five Questions with Kate Gosselin

  Parenting magazine continues its celebration of Celebrity Moms Month with our latest installment of “Five Questions for ______.” Today, reality TV star, author, and mother of eight Kate Gosselin dishes about that hair, that ex-husband, and, oh yeah, all those kids. Parenting caught up with the busy mom at the star-studded after-party for the new season of The Biggest Loser.

  PARENTING: So, how are the kids?

  KATE GOSSELIN: I think they’re doing really well, thanks. We just had a sixth birthday party for the sextuplets at the Viper Room in West Hollywood. It was sponsored by Cîroc vodka and Axe Body Spray. A couple of the girls from The Real Housewives of Atlanta stopped by. Dina Lohan was there. It was so awesome. The kids wanted to have one of those super-lame cupcake parties at school with their friends, but thank God my friend Kristin Cavallari from The Hills stepped up to throw me the party.

  Those six little birthday angels flew out on Joe Francis’s jet and spent most of the night napping in the VIP room with Verne Troyer. They must have been wiped out from having so much fun! Also, it was four a.m. and they’re six years old. Verne drove them home. He’s such a sweetie.

  PARENTING: Now that you’ve had some time to reflect on the impact Jon & Kate Plus Eight had on your family, if you could go back in time, would you invite the TV cameras into your life again?

  KG: Uh, let me think: Yes! If it weren’t for that show, I’d still be a nurse at some s**tbox hospital in Pennsylvania, I’d still be married to Jonny Jerkoff, and I certainly wouldn’t be on a first-name basis with any of the Real Housewives. I’ve noticed that Pennsylvania nurses married to d-bags with no job don’t make it on Barbara Walters’s list of “Most Fascinating People” all that often. The minute I unloaded Daddy Dead Weight, I made the “Most Fascinating” list. No one can ever take that away from me. My only regret is that the cameras didn’t come a few years sooner. I would have dumped Ed Hardy and gone after Mario Lopez a long time ago.

  PARENTING: But, as you know, our focus is on parenting and the unique challenges every parent faces. Don’t you think it’s difficult to give your children a normal upbringing when their lives are broadcast on national television?

  KG: The children cried when I sat them down last year and told them the show was canceled, okay? They absolutely loved being on TV. I’ll never forgive Jon for taking that piece of their childhood away from them. I mean, the producers and cameramen were like part of the family. Especially Lorenzo, the tan, muscular sound guy—most of the kids called him Daddy because he was so much cooler than their real dad. Also, because Lorenzo often slept in my bed when Jon was passed out down on the couch watching SportsCenter. It was so nice finally to share a pillow with a real man. Lorenzo smelled like the leather of a freshly oiled horse saddle.

  So, no, the kids probably haven’t had a normal upbringing, but “normal” doesn’t pay the bills. Know what I mean? Just last week, the twins did an appearance at the grand opening of a batting cage back home. Boom! That’s three grand right there! Weekend before that, a bunch of the sextuplets dressed up like the Little Rascals for a bachelor party in Las Vegas—first class travel, a suite at Bally’s, totally comped at the tables, the works. God, I wish I could have been there to see that. Hilarious!

  PARENTING: Your 6-year-olds went to a bachelor party in Las Vegas? And you weren’t there? Wow. Perhaps we should change the subject. Why do you think people are so fascinated by your hair?

  KG: It’s so funny, I was having lunch at the Cheesecake Factory the other day with JWoWW from Jersey Shore and she was like, “Girlfriend, your hair is, like, famous!” It was funny because I had never thought of hair as being famous, but it’s totally true. So I’m like, “Hello! Your hair is way more famous than my hair!” We seriously argued for like 10 minutes about it. Then we crushed some Peanut Butter Cup Fudge cheesecake. Have you ever had that? Uh! So good!

  But I’m flattered that people think my hair is cool. Like most busy moms, I don’t have much time to think about the way I look. I mean, I wake up early with the kids, send them to the craft service table for breakfast, and then whatever my round-the-clock hair and makeup team does with my hair in the trailer is the way it looks all day. Who has time?! So if I’m a style icon or w
hatever—and In Touch Weekly did say so in its recent “Hottest Reality Stars” issue—it’s purely by accident. I just think of myself as a regular old mom.

  PARENTING: Last question: can you name all eight of your children?

  KG: Excuse me? Of course I can. That’s ridiculous. [laughter] You seriously expect me to do that for you?

  PARENTING: Yes, your kids’ names. Many of our readers are expectant parents looking for the perfect name for their new baby. So what are your children’s names? All of them.

  KG: I’m completely offended by your question, but I know what happens if I don’t answer—front-page headline of OK! next week says “Kate Doesn’t Know Her Own Kids’ Names!” I’ve played this game before. So here you go. There are the twins, Cara and Mady. Then there’s the big group of six that I always mess up: There’s Alexis, Hannah, uh, then you’ve got, uh, oh, s**t—it’s something weird. I wanna say Aaron, but that’s not it. [Publicist leans into Gosselin’s ear.] Aaden! I knew it was an “A.” Then you have, uh, oh Christ, I don’t know—Donny and Marie, and, uh, Tito and LaToya— Hey! Look over there! [Gosselin points behind reporter. Reporter turns around. Gosselin runs out of the room.]

  Editor’s Note: Next week’s “Five Questions for ______,” originally scheduled to be with Whitney Houston, has been changed. We could not find her. Instead, Dog the Bounty Hunter talks about balancing kids with the pursuit of fugitives across state lines.

  Chapter 14

  The Kim Jong-il Celebrity Golf Tournament

  You are looking at breathtaking aerial pictures of the Democratic People’s Golf and Racquet Club on another beautiful afternoon in Pyongyang, North Korea, home of the 7th Annual Kim Jong-il Celebrity Golf Challenge, right here on CBS . . .”