THE PRESIDENT: Good morning. Early yesterday, I quietly signed into law legislation which effectively bans the untold millions of dollars in "soft money" donations which serve as campaign lifeblood to my Republican brethren and I. Unspeakably odious though I find said legislation, which was penned by my mortal enemy, Mr. Bigtime So-Called War Hero John McCain, to have vetoed it would have been political suicide - even for someone like me, who is so much more popular than Jesus Christ and Allah McHammed combined.

Sadly, this morning I was most dismayed to learn that I have angered my most beloved special interest group and soft money contributor: the National Rifle Association. This fine and upstanding shadow army of utterly non-delusional, non-paranoid, and impressively athletic "sportsmen" represent all that is right with ultra-conservative lower-middle class America, and I rest easy each night knowing that the overwhelming majority of its dues-paying members are amassing personal arsenals capable of wiping out whole high school auditoriums filled with people who dare to question whether or not our musket-wielding founding fathers ever envisioned AK-47's and UZI's when they conceived the Second Amendment to the US Constitution. Duh! Of course they did! And even if I thought that they didn't, I wouldn't say it. Hell, there's still two or three trailer parks in Crawford that haven't been smeared around by tornados yet, and the only firepower my Secret Service detail packs is a few pussy .38 snub-noses. I mean, I may be a C-student, but I know better than to piss on an electric fence!

And so today, I want to make an appeal directly to Charlton Heston - my longtime friend and the President of the NRA:

Chuckles-Baby. I know I have done you a grievous wrong, and I know that you are terribly cross with me - cross enough that if you really were Moses, that you would smite me like I was some gilded cow-worshipping jewboy, except of course that instead of using some crazy God-like powers, you would be packing seriously macho heat - I'm guessing a Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum. Please know that I never wanted anything to come between us, and that I shall forever pine for your tender financial embrace, which has given me such political comfort over the eight long years I have been a public servant.

Furthermore, I wish you the very best on your new law suit, which challenges John McCain's commie law by correctly declaring that it "eviscerates the core protections of the First Amendment." I couldn't agree with you more, and I hope that you win so that things can get back to normal between us. Because after all, you've got plenty of cash of spend, and I've got millions of people who can be convinced of the legitimacy of my domestic agenda just by showing them poorly-produced and inflammatory television commercials!

In closing, I would appreciate it greatly if you would have a word with some of your more fervent and bloodthirsty members who frequent the Interweb gun message boards, and let them know that I'm really not so bad, and that they should really lay off the "storm the White House" talk. It makes Laura nervous, and then Barney can sense her nervousness, and his bladder control goes right out the window, and then I'm left mopping up terrier juice with a roll of azalea-print Bounty. And I hate that.

Thanks Chuckles-Baby. I owe you one.

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