President Me

by Adam Carolla

  Which leads me to Israel. What the fuck are you guys doing in the middle of those homicidal, anti-Semitic, misogynistic, religious zealots? I know what your answer is, it’s your land, you won it fair and square, and you are not going to move. That’s like saying, “My roommate’s a paranoid meth head. Twice a week I wake up and he is standing at the foot of my bed with a machete.” Then, when someone says, “Why don’t you move out?” your answer is, “And lose my cleaning deposit?”

  (AUDIBLE BOOS FROM PALESTINIAN DELEGATION)

  Shut the fuck up. You know it’s your fault. I hear a lot of talk about how all anyone wants is peace, but the side of the fence where it’s only Jews looks pretty good. The other side looks like a thin slice of hell. Face it, they’re a better culture than you.

  I don’t really have a foreskin in this fight but I do have a solution, Israel. You guys pack up and move to Baja. It’s got plenty of seaside deserts. You’ll love it. Here’s the plan: Mexico usually gets drunk and passes out about eight thirty in the evening. You sneak in under the cover of darkness and take over before they sober up. The only real difference between the Sea of Galilee and the Sea of Cortez is world-class sport fishing. And you could get that country’s economy back on its feet in no time. They need accountants; ironically Mexico’s short on bean counters. And don’t worry about the “Sacred Land” stuff; once you get established in Baja, you can send some Mexicans back to your land to scrape off the top six inches of soil, spread it out over the peninsula, and start fresh. Once your old neighbors realize they are out of Jews to kill, they’ll start killing each other.

  Before you get outraged and have the Anti-Defamation League after me, let me remind you that I can say this stuff. My stepgrandfather was Jewish, and before I was president I was in show business, so everyone thinks I’m Jewish. I love Jews. They’re family-oriented and focus on education. And unlike other cultures, Jews do their funerals the next day after someone kicks it. You don’t drag it out like the Irish. I went to a Jewish funeral not too long ago for my uncle Gabi and it was pretty darn efficient. I did have to put on that temporary white yarmulke for visitors, the one that looks like a coffee filter. I love seeing the guy with the custom velvet yarmulke. That’s like the guy who has his own bowling ball. He’s a pro.

  But let me end with a compliment. Another thing I like about Jews is that you are a careful people and responsible people. Here’s how I know. You handle a lot of fire, but I never hear about you setting yourselves ablaze. You’re constantly kindling the Sabbath candle; if you’re Hasidic you’ve got the giant beard and payos, and a long prayer shawl with fringe. You’re a human tinderbox. You’re leaning over to blow out the menorah with what are essentially fuses dangling from your heads. You are the world’s most flammable people but you’ve got a fire safety record that would make Smokey Bear proud. Mazel tov.

  (SPARSE APPLAUSE)

  Okay, where are my Russians? You are easily the most fucked-up white people on the planet. And that’s including Florida. You’re still suffering from a communism hangover. That shit went on for way too long.

  America should have woken the fuck up in 1961 and smashed you. Why did it take until Ronald Reagan to call you guys evil? I blame America and the “you can’t judge” children of the sixties. My mom had your back, not because she thought your horrible oppressive form of government worked, she just hated Gerald Ford.

  The Berlin Wall was the greatest advertisement against communism. Take East and West Germany out of the equation. You just have group A and group B. Where group A lives is all gray and bleak, they’ve got cars running off two-stroke engines, they’re lining up for stale bread, and there are armed guards keeping them on that side of the fence. Everyone in group A is killing themselves to try and get where group B lives. We couldn’t do the math as a world that the ideas where group A live suck?

  So, Russia, ever since the wall came down, you should’ve been in apology mode. Like a husband that got busted cheating. “Yes, honey, I would like to watch The Notebook. But not until I finish baking you this lasagna.” Between the Berlin Wall, the gulags, and Stalin, you should never stop apologizing. You should constantly be making us lasagna. If you took Hitler’s body count and matched it up against Stalin’s, Stalin comes out on top by at least eight million. That reality should not get lost in history.

  But let me pay you one compliment. Your athletes are impressive. Not just in their respective games; they’ve got a brain in them, unlike ours. Like Wladimir Klitschko . . . ​He’s Dr. Wladimir Klitschko, who speaks three languages and plays chess. Look at our sports icons. We’ve got guys like Karl Malone who can’t string a sentence together, arrogant boneheads who change their names, like Metta World Peace and Chad Ochocinco, or the guys who think every play they complete is a direct result of Jesus intervening. And your tennis players are hot and smart. There’s no way a hot American chick would go to tennis camp and get up to practice every day at five A.M. She’d look at a mirror on her sixteenth birthday and say, “Fuck that. Where’s the Hawaiian Tropic competition?”

  Speaking of unlikely intelligence, where’s India?

  (INDIAN DELEGATION RAISES HANDS)

  Here’s something I don’t get. Your culture seems to be the most poor and downtrodden but constantly cranks out the most doctors and neurosurgeons. Every doctor you see in L.A. is from India. I don’t understand. Which is it? Usually cultures don’t have that kind of range. Half the country is in med school, the other half is living in a bucket of feces. Real slumdog shit. In our country, when one group is consistently poor and uneducated, we make excuses based on race. You’re all Indian. Lift your slumdog brethren up. No one is keeping you down. What’s your excuse? Where’s your spokesman? You need an Aziz Sharpton.

  And Japan—I don’t get you either. You’re either very reserved, studious, and businesslike or completely off the rails. There’s no in between. You’re either jumping off a building because you got a B-minus on a calculus test or you’ve got spiked hair and are driving a slammed Acura. And the tattoos. You’ve either got none or you’re covered in them, including the eyelids. What’s up?

  And sexually you guys are twisted. You’re giving the Germans a run for the fetish money.

  (OFFENDED MUTTERS FROM GERMAN DELEGATION)

  How about some good old missionary-position sex? Not everything needs to be a bizarre anime-based fantasy where you’re doing something weird to a schoolgirl with a fish. I know it’s overcompensation. Let’s face it. You and the rest of Asia are coming up a little short in the pecker department.

  (INDIGNANT SHOUTS FROM CHINESE, KOREAN, VIETNAMESE, CAMBODIAN, AND JAPANESE DELEGATIONS)

  Seriously. What’s with all the dick-based superstitions and practices? Methinks you doth protest too much. No one is more superstitious than Africans, but they’ve checked the cock box. Ironically they’re the ones with full access to all the weird shit like the rhino horns that you use as an aphrodisiac or penis-lengthening powder. Maybe that’s the problem. You see the Serengeti plainsman over there in Africa pulling his tree trunk of a cock in a wheelbarrow and think it has to do with all those animals you don’t have on your island. There is no worse day as an organism than when you find out Japanese guys think part of you gives them boners.

  Which is why I hate that in America, we are so in love with the wisdom of the Orient. Every liberal friend I have talks about “Eastern medicine.” Everything from Asia is great—until you get AIDS. Ginseng root is fine until you come up HIV positive, then it’s time to call Pfizer. We keep thinking you know something we don’t. You have feng shui, eat with those sticks, sleep on the floor, take your shoes off. But I don’t think you’re so smart. We invented the fork, then the spoon, and even the spork, and you’re still drinking miso soup by picking up the bowl and dumping it in your mouth. Plus we kicked your ass in the war.

  (JAPANESE DELEGATION HANG HEADS IN SHAME AND UNSHEATHE HARA-KIRI KNIVES)

  Yeah, I went there. A lot of people in my country, mostly
in the blue states, would like us to apologize for Hiroshima and Nagasaki. And I’m sure you agree. Well, fuck them and fuck you. Let me explain once and for all why those atomic bombs were necessary. If you had an atomic bomb and a delivery system, you would have happily dropped it in Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Secondly, you were fighting like crazed savages to the last man on every ten-square-foot patch of sand that surrounded your home island. If we had invaded that island, every man, woman, and child that could fire a gun or carry a pitchfork would have been waiting for my uncle Ralph and his Browning .50 caliber machine gun. He was part of the island campaign. He didn’t talk about his experiences overseas much, but when he did they were gruesome tales of midnight banzai charges with waves of Japanese soldiers, sometimes armed only with swords, coming at him while he and the guy feeding his ammo belt just slaughtered thousands of men. This scenario would have taken place with even more ferocity on the island of Japan. The casualties would have gone well into the hundreds of thousands. And most of them would have been civilians, since the Japanese army had been decimated by that point. Also you nimrods should have surrendered ten minutes after seeing the mushroom cloud over Hiroshima instead of hanging out four more days and waiting for Nagasaki. Nagasaki is on the Japanese leaders, not us. But you could have avoided your ass kicking in general by not bombing Pearl Harbor in the first place.

  And to all my asswipe countrymen who are busy beating up America for this, please pick up a fucking calculator, probably manufactured in Japan after we helped rebuild their country and economy, and do the math. After the bombs, my uncle was part of a peacekeeping unit instead of an invasion force. So when you dickweeds see him in heaven, a simple “I was wrong” and “thank you” will do.

  Speaking of the Axis powers, where’s Germany? As I’ve said many times, we should bomb you again.

  (MEMBER OF GERMAN DELEGATION SHOUTS “NEIN!”)

  After going through the Holocaust museum in England, I decided that we didn’t do nearly enough damage to your nation. We stopped you from trying to take over the world and wipe an entire people off the face of the earth, but then we were like “Here’s a few bucks, put the capital back together. We’ll see you later.” I think we moved on too quickly. You rounded up Gypsies, Jews, and gays—my favorite Cher song, by the way—put them on trains, and tossed them in ovens. But a mere three years later, during the Berlin airlift, we were dropping off thirteen tons of supplies a day. Instead of dropping pallets of food and medicine, we should have been dropping a little more ordnance.

  That said, we’re cool, Germany. You drive like champions and I dig that. In fact, as president, I’m stealing your Autobahn idea. You guys drive 150 on the Autobahn because you make a quality product that is safe at that speed. Modern cars have antilock brakes, speed-rated tires, and suspension geometry that doesn’t involve leaf springs. Here in the U.S. we do nothing but yell “put on your seat belt” and “slow it down.” If you hit the open highway on a road trip, you’ll pass a “This Highway Patrolled by Aircraft” sign every ten feet. And last time I drove to San Francisco I had a cop hit me with a radar gun traveling toward me, pull a Smokey and the Bandit U-turn across the wide dirt median, and come up behind me to pull me over. Let me ask you this. What’s more dangerous—me doing seventy-nine in an all-wheel-drive Audi S4 with low-profile, high-performance tires mounted on forged eighteen-inch racing rims and bolted on to large cross-vented disk brakes or the cop with his steel rims, straight rear axle, and drum brakes pulling a U-turn on a piece of off-camber dirt spinning the back tires in the weeds as he rejoins the traffic going the opposite direction?

  (SILENCE FROM GALLERY)

  But I digress. One last thought on Hitler. What is it with dictators and the crazy facial hair? When you see pictures of Castro everyone around him has the beard, all the people that surrounded Saddam Hussein were sporting his cookie-duster, but I watch hours and hours of History Channel and I’ve never seen any of Hitler’s henchmen sporting the shoe-polish-streak mustache. That’s how bad his facial hair choice was. Your closest lieutenants, who have seen you order the deaths of millions of people, are like, “I’m still gonna risk pissing the boss off. I don’t want that stupid mustache.” Conformity was Hitler’s thing. The goose step is the most impractical way to move around, yet he’d get thousands of guys to parade in front of him doing it. And his Heil salute was about as creative as Howie Mandel’s fist bump. About the only good idea he had going for him was the term “Heil Hitler” and that was just because of the alliteration. If his last name was Stiencooler it never would have worked. He got an entire nation to goose-step, adopt his greeting, and turn a blind eye to genocide, but not one man in his army went with the Chaplin mustache. You know somewhere in some regiment in northern Africa there was a staff sergeant who did sport the Hitler ’stache. And he was probably relentlessly teased by all the other guys in his platoon. “Hey, Dieter, is that a mustache or a crap stripe you got brown-nosing the Führer?” And Dieter was like, “Hey man, I had this in high school. I was rocking this baby when we were torpedoing the Lusitania. Don’t make me pull out my yearbook again.”

  While I’m on a World War II tirade, let’s talk, France. I’m a fan of psychology and normally when people think of that they imagine a one-on-one session with a guy wearing a corduroy sport coat who has a beard that looks like someone shaved off their pubes and stuck it to his chin. But I like to take my psychological theories and apply them to whole countries. After all, aren’t we all on the same sectional built for 300 million?

  (LONG, SELF-SATISFIED SNIFF FROM PRESIDENT CAROLLA)

  A great example of basic psychology permeating a culture is you, France. I’ve always said the more you do for somebody, the more they resent you. Dig this. When the dust settled on the greatest war ever known, Germany was in ruins, Japan had had two atomic bombs dropped on it, and your nation had been liberated. Now, out of those three countries, which one resents us the most—the one we nuked? Nope. They’re buying our jeans and singing Elvis songs. The country we carpet-bombed? Nope. They’re busy enlarging the cup holders on their cars so they can move more units here in the States. That’s right. The country that resents us is the one that should be sending over a new Statue of Liberty every six weeks. Is there any way you would have gifted us the Lady Liberty after World War II? No fucking way. Why? Because we shamed you. We bailed you out and let you know just how weak and inadequate you were. And instead of taking a long look in the mirror, you turned on us, like the ne’er-do-well brother you constantly bail out of jail who still hates you. People always say, “Why do they resent us so much? If it wasn’t for us they’d be speaking German right now.” That’s exactly why you resent us. We shamed you with our superiority.

  This, by the way, would explain the Jerry Lewis phenomenon. Nobody thinks Jerry Lewis is funny. Not even those kids with the polio crutches are handicapped enough to think he’s funny. But your country, which does nothing but turn its nose up at our culture, embraces what I would consider the most American of all comedians. I know it probably came up at a “how are we going to piss off the United States?” meeting. “What comedian shall we idolize?” “I think Mitch Hedberg’s pretty funny.” “Patrice, get the fuck out of the room. Do you think that would piss them off? Now, Jerry Lewis, that’s a comedian that would annoy them.” “But he’s not funny.” “Exactly.”

  Italy. You’re cool. You’re sort of like Mexico if it studied for the SATs. It’s as if someone woke Mexico up, sobered them up, and said, “You gotta go study. We’re gonna get you into a state school.”

  But don’t get full of yourself. You’ve still got a long way to go. I’m a paisan, so I can say this. Italians are essentially dumb Jews. You’re personable, you love to eat and talk, you’ve got the importance of family, the nappy hair, and the bigger-than-average schnoz. You just don’t have the brainpower Jews have. You have a lot of the same qualities minus twenty-five IQ points. You Italians have an artistic flair, designing automobiles and such.
I’ve always said if you want a sports car, go to an Italian, but find a Jew to help you with the financing.

  Now, let’s look next door to Greece. Get over yourself. You got out of the gate really well but you haven’t done much in a millennium or two. You guys invented civilization and the alphabet, but since then you really seem to have dropped the ball. Your economy almost brought down the rest of Europe, there are constant riots and protests, and no one seems to want to work. What happened? You peaked with Socrates and then were like “just give me a teenage boy and a sauna, I’m going to take the next couple thousand years off and focus on yogurt.”

  (GREEK DELEGATION IS WOKEN UP BY GREENLAND DELEGATION NEXT TO THEM)

  That’s all you guys have seemed to have done lately. Greek yogurt is flying off the shelves here in the States. If you were getting your cut, your economy would be fine. How come your country is falling apart? Did you guys not look at the contract? I think you’re getting screwed on your yogurt royalties.

  Now, Ireland—please take Bono back. I’m sick of seeing him on American TV preaching about Africa and how it’s entirely our fault. Why not ask the starving Africans what THEY’RE doing about their plight. Leave us out of it. I’m so tired of you and Sting blowing hard about American imperialism. How would you like it if we sent Bob Seger to your country to talk about what a bunch of assholes you are?

  Before I move on from Europe let me just address the Dutch. I like you guys. You’re not troublemakers. But is it the Netherlands or Holland? Nail it down, please.

  And either way, why are you called Dutch? Shouldn’t it be Netherlanders or the Hollandaise? I suggest you lose the Dutch moniker. There are a lot of Dutch slurs that you need to be aware of. “Going dutch” means splitting a check, which makes you guys sound like the cheapest fucks on the planet. Being “in Dutch” is being in trouble. “Dutch doors” are only half doors. A “Dutch uncle” pretty much means a critical asshole. And when I was doing construction, if you fucked up a mortise and had to sand it down and pretend it didn’t happen, that was called “a Dutchman.” Worst of all is that back in the day when sailors would fuck a knothole in a piece of a wooden plank, it was called a “Dutch wife.” And to all of you who hurl these racially charged slurs against the Dutch, don’t think just because you love the Dutch oven it makes it all right. That’s like dropping an N-bomb but following it with “It’s okay, I have black friends.”