Campaign speech transcript with the President’s revisions, April 22, 2004
After all of that, whatever American voter remained—typically on the order of four or five very strong supporters—was permitted to come see their President give a speech.
They were always a very enthusiastic crowd.
Again I began to wonder why it was necessary to go through all the fuss of having an election. Whenever I spoke, Americans overflowed with applause and cheers for my every statement. My staff had amassed stacks of loyalty oaths. Could not these oaths, in some way, be called ballots? I will look into this for future elections, because it would clear away a lot of needless bureaucracy.
The security of our nation is tantamount. And that security must begin with the Commander in Chief. In this first presidential election after the September 11th attacks, Al-Qaeda sympathizers were said to have found sanctuary among the nation’s librarians. These terrorists used their wanton access to library books to openly learn about my policies, and conspired to assemble wherever I appeared. They would wave signs and wear T-shirts displaying morally threatening phrases, such as “Peace is an American value” and “Violence is not the answer,” which stood in stark contrast to my positive agenda for America.
Fortunately, tough new laws protected me from these evil elements of our homeland. My staff was able to create “free-speech cages” that would allow the banner wavers and T-shirt wearers to shout and speak as freely as they wished, far away from where they could be heard. There they could then proudly exercise their first-amendment rights, just like the great baboons in our nation’s zoos.
Criticism of the Commander in Chief is the greatest security threat we face in the 21st century. This is one of the vital lessons we learned after 9-11. Such open questions brought comfort to our enemies abroad, who hate us and want to destroy our democratic values. When they see us living according to those values, it brings them comfort. And we must not comfort them. We must agitate them like one agitates a hornets’ nest. You must whack the hive with a stick. Bash it and keep bashing it. But whatever you do, do not let the hornets see you exercising your freedom. Then they will really come after you.
Even though I brought my winning strategy, and the date of September the 11th, before the American electorate time and time again, I faced a continuing threat of the John Kerry monster. As he campaigned, lumbering about with his arms outstretched, an alarming number of Americans began to embrace this creation of the dark sciences. And it soon became clear that I would have to meet the creature head on, in open debate.
There are legitimate questions to be raised regarding whether it is appropriate in a time of war for another member of the government to debate a sitting President. The American people must present a united front in war. Otherwise, our enemies might see that we have open debate and free discussion. The troops on the battlefield must know that they are fighting for something much greater than that.
The debates were much ballyhooed. I did not realize it at the time, but I did fairly well. I would express my cogent remarks to the people, and in response the Kerry-thing would yell and groan in unintelligible, unnatural moans. I could only hope that the monstrosity’s message did not resonate with voters.
I prayed for a mob of townspeople to hunt him down with torches and burn him in the public square, as they had done with the monsters of lore. But our civilization has grown too tolerant of the half-living.
To be on the safe side, I had a secret weapon in the debate. With this weapon, I would be able to respond forthrightly and directly, without all of the cumbersome memorizing required as in the debates of the past. The latest developments in electronic earpiece technology had finally caught up to the needs of the modern President. An earpiece connected to a receiver, hidden discreetly under my suit jacket, allowed my staff to alert me to any national-security emergencies that might take place during the debate.
When one is President, one must always be ready to respond to issues of the highest national significance at a moment’s notice. During a debate, my advisors might have to suddenly call out to me, “Mister President, stop smirking.” Or “Sir, quit pursing your lips,” and other threats to the nation, which I had a sacred responsibility to address immediately and decisively.
My opponent was just such a threat. If he were to turn and lunge at me unpredictably, I needed a warning from my secret service detail. That warning would be delivered through the earpiece, just in time for me to evade his attack, and perhaps light him on fire with my wooden torch, which I kept under my podium for just such an emergency. If called upon to do so, I would thrust it at the monster to keep him at bay, for he did not understand fire.
Early in the campaign, I developed a comprehensive fire-based strategy to defeat my easily frightened opponent. This tactic was used to great effect in my eventual victory. Every day on the campaign trail I would put forth a message involving fire. “Fire, good!” I would say. My opponent was forced to respond by bellowing the slurred words, “Fire, bad!” and blocking his eyes from the threat of fire. Sometimes he would smash through the nearest wall in a vain hope to escape from an imagined fire.
As Election Day grew near, I focused on the important issues: 9-11, September the 11th, and the events of 9-11, 2001. On the road, I would practice repeating my important stances on these issues: “9-11, 9-11, 9-11,” I would say over and over again until I could do so without thinking.
This clear message had to be communicated to the American people if I was to be elected again. And I did so. A great deal. People became hypnotized by my wise words. My 9-11 9-11 9-11 proposal, which was presently being debated in the Congress, as well as my urgent call to 9-11 9-11 September 11th and 9-11 were making good sense to voters.
Finally the day of reckoning came, and to my dismay, the exit polls indicated that the monster was getting more votes than I was.
I was concerned. I prayed to Jesus, asking “Why have you forsaken me, Lord?” I cursed him and all his so-called “holy” powers. What good was he if he could not deliver this vital election? I renounced the Holy Father and cast my lot with the stone idols of Babylon. Perhaps they would be more responsive to my fevered prayers.
Then my experts advised me that votes cast early in the day tend to be more sympathetic to re-animated, half-dead candidates. This brought me no comfort. What if my message had not reached enough voters? What if I had alienated the anti-fire vote? And what of the sheer terror of 9-11? My mind was racing, and I began to feel dizzy, filled with curses and uncertainty.
But my momentary spell of doubt was unfounded.
When the votes had all been counted, I was declared the winner. The people had given me a clear mandate with one of the widest margins of the popular vote in a U.S. presidential election in this century. I won both the popular and the Electoral College vote. I apologized to Jesus for doubting Him, accepted Him back into my heart, and bid my substitute Babylonian deities good day.
The exit polls proved more wrong than they ever had before. The trend on that day was clearly for George W. Bush. Even some of the new electronic voting machines were catching on to the excitement and casting votes for me, correcting the errant judgment of the voters.
This great victory provided me with a mandate to carry out my campaign promises of 9-11, terror, and 9-11 to the fullest extent possible.
As for my one-time opponent, legend has it that even now he continues to lurk in Washington, awaiting his chance for a second grotesque run for the presidency.
But it is unlikely that he will succeed. I do not believe that any voting bloc will ever endorse a Frankenstein’s monster for the nation’s highest office, unless those voters are elderly blind men or naive little girls of a gentle demeanor. But even those voters, in the end, will be destroyed by the monster, for he cannot control his urges. His untamed emotions and great strength will crush the people he is charged to protect.
Letter to Oscar Mayer, August 29, 2005
He is not meant to
live among us.
But as to me, the mandate holder, how will history view my legacy? Will I be celebrated with parades and flowers tossed at my feet when I retire? Or will I enjoy the noble yet quiet honor of having a rocket ship named after me? Only time and subsequent chapters of this book will tell.
18
My Enduring Legacy:
Mount Rushmore?
How a nation should honor a President who has made great sacrifices to serve is a difficult question. But it is an important one, and one which we must consider fully and thoughtfully.
As such matters are discussed, it is vital to remember that concerns about a legacy can never be a factor in the day-to-day decisions that a President makes. All a President’s decisions affect the country—and history—and therefore cannot be taken lightly. But when history is written, everyone who is alive today will be dead, and therefore history does not matter. Nor can a President base his decisions on the so-called “learning” of the past. The past is gone, and is best forgotten.
The people who may be alive in future times will live by these same constraints. They will be unable to learn from our example. We wish them good luck.
All a President can do is make decisions based on the facts of the present which he chooses to accept. That means he must rely on the only tools he has available to him: his gut instincts, and the Word of God, which together are never wrong, as long as the latter is properly interpreted from scripture, and the former is not adversely effected by acidic foods.
In this written work, I offer my counsel on the pivotal matter of how my legacy must be honored. There are any number of statues, memorials, or symbolic public monuments that would be appropriate to honor the first two-term President of a new century: from the grand visages hewn in the very rock on Mt. Rushmore, to the small but stately minting of a likeness on the nation’s coins.
Of these proposed solutions, I strongly believe that a large statue is called for, and I propose that this towering likeness be built in the glorious city center of the new, rebuilt New Orleans. I propose that this structure be made of rock-hard stone, a stone which will never fade or wither with time. I do not know what the types of stone are, but a strong stone is called for. Whether that be marble, or granite, or just regular rock, I leave for the stone carvologists to determine.
As for what the likeness should entail, perhaps the moment to be captured in stone is when I stood upon the USS Abraham Lincoln and proclaimed that the Iraq war was won. Alternately, the moment I stood atop the ruins of the Twin Towers on or about September the 11th, 2001, after that city was attacked.
The statue should be 900 feet tall, and be a gleaming remembrance for all the people of New Orleans to enjoy. A celebration of the President who fought to protect them from evil, and who personally flew in to hug some people on TV in the wake of the great Hurricane Karmina.
A grand painting must also be done, as is the tradition in our great country. This portrait will hang in the hallowed halls of the White House for as long as the United States lasts. As the artist reflects on this large framed work, he will surely wonder how history will paint my legacy. Will there be the bright yellows of hope? The blood red of slain terrorists, who faced justice? Or the soothing purples of royalty? Or will it be a mural of blazing colors, exploding with triumph of a resolute and determined President?
Someone worthy, who knows coloring, must take up the painter’s trowel and start creating this art. But who is more familiar with me than me? Since I know what should be said about me, and by contrast, what should be left to the inferrers, I recommend that the commissioned artist turn to the words in this book for inspiration. By reading my thoughts in these pages, the art-maker might capture the essence of my legacy directly from the mouth of the horse, so to speak.
One of the traditions of the nation’s chief executive is that once he has left the office he is expected to found a presidential library, in which all of his presidential letters, memoranda and papers are archived for the people and the scholars and the triviologists to examine.
I have begun exploring my options in this regard. Firstly, I have decided that all of my papers will be sealed in an underground vault for 2,000 years so that no one will ever be able to see them. Perhaps the locked and guarded steel entrance to this vault could be housed within my presidential library.
Memo, April 17, 2006
I wish to employ 21st-century technology in my presidential library. It is time, I believe, to no longer look at the past, but to the future. A George W. Bush Presidential Library and Detention Facility will reflect the permanent changes in the world that took place after September 11, 2001. In this world, all of the patrons that enter my library must be thoroughly searched, screened for weapons, undergo a criminal background check, and have their medical records reviewed for any sign of disease.
Lastly, my library itself will be a memorial to the victims of the great tragedy of 9-11. It will be shaped as a memorial to the Twin Towers after September the 11th: a giant pile of rubble. There will not be any books inside of the library. All of the books will be in a pile atop the rubble, burned beyond readability. For a fitting tribute, I propose one burned book for every victim of that great tragedy. Those who wish to attempt to read one of these books will have to dig it out of the rubble and ash, as a way to honor the sacrifice of the heroic workers who cleared the pile of rubble after the hallowed attacks.
One important note: The books should be piled up and burned in accordance with the Dewey Decimal System.
Many have asked me what I will do once I have retired from the presidency. First, I have not made up my determination one way or the other whether I will retire or not. It is possible that Congress will pass a law allowing a President to rule for more terms in office, like in the days of history. We all know from our text books that the great FDR ruled for three or perhaps four terms as President. And do not forget George Washington, the storied father of our country, who sat on the throne for 200 years.
It is also possible that a terrible tragedy will befall our nation, and I will have no choice but to declare a national state of emergency and suspend the Constitution in order to protect our cherished liberties. In this eventuality, the electoral process would be discontinued indefinitely. I hope this does not happen, but one never knows when such extreme measures are necessary to protect us against the enemy.
I have vowed to stay the course, and that could mean a quarter-century or more in the White House. We still have many goals to achieve, and if we are to keep that sacred trust, my vision for the country must be followed through to its completion, as foretold in the Book of Revelations. That is, at least until the appearance of the seven-headed beast and the descent of all non-believers into the pit of fire.
Perhaps, at that time, I will accept a position at the right hand of Christ. I should point out that no official offer has been made, as of this writing, regarding my role in the next life, or my particular position during the Rapture proceedings. Therefore I will not speculate further on that. Let me just put it this way: I am hopeful that Jesus has been impressed by my good work, and that there will be high-level talks to determine my rightful place.
But should circumstances force me to abdicate this office, whether it be in 30 or even 40 years, I shall have to ask myself the difficult question: Where can one go after being President of the United States? What can one do to top the experience of fighting for our very freedoms, of holding each and every American citizen’s life in one’s protective embrace?
The answer is clear. Major League Baseball Commissioner. Nothing would make me prouder, or cap off my illustrious career in the private sector or in public service better than that proud distinction.
I would have a big office with pennants hanging in it. I would go to games, and congregate with the players, and wave to crowds from the stands from the Commissioner’s honored box seat. I would get to wear a baseball cap, almost to no end. And Jesus would be by my side, eating a hot dog, and smiling
for my good fortune.
I pledge that I would fulfill the duties of Baseball Commissioner honorably.
I endeavor always to place my vision for the future within the realm of what is realistic, so perhaps it is inappropriate for me to touch on the subject that follows. But I feel that if this manuscript is to be the definitive record of my life and works, all matters must be addressed. I speak of the prospect that my name will inspire the creation of a new candy bar.
If my legacy is to inspire the creation of a sugared snack food, let my discourse within these pages be considered my last will and testament in that regard.
I do not wish coconut to be included. Coconut has a stringy texture, and I do not like it. This holds for whether the candy be in the form of a bar, a chew, a cup, a cake, or a ball. However, one or more of the following ingredients will be acceptable in combination: peanuts, almonds, nougat, milk chocolate, or caramel. And perhaps a “crunch” item, whether that be a toffee, cookie, or crisp-based material yet to be devised by candy science.
Dark chocolate, while in favor with some, will not be permitted on or in the bar. This shall be the case in any form the candy may take, even if packaged in a box as kernels, pieces, minis, nuggets, or bits. A truly American snack-treat must be covered in milk chocolate only. Dark chocolate may be suitable for a snack created to honor the dignitary of another country, but not the United States of America.
Destined for Destiny Page 11