THE PRESIDENT: Good morning. I'm very uncomfortably honored to be addressing you people of the Log Cabin Republicans here at the Exit 17 Rest Area - a place which I'm told is so intimately significant to you all. You know, when I first received your invitation, I thought you were all just really big fans of pancake syrup, and that we would be having one hell of a buffet breakfast. Since agreeing to appear here however, I have learned that you are, in fact, a coalition of G.O.P. homos, who while ignored and marginalized to within a hair of non-existence, nevertheless still toe the party line like the snarling and perfectly coiffed poodle boys that you are. For that, I'd like to thank your parents, for instilling in you just enough self-loathing to enjoy getting dumped on. (Snickers.) What? What's so funny?

Anyway, I can't tell you how surprised Karl Rove was when I told him this is where I was going this morning. As I was climbing into my limousine, he asked, "Where you headed, Prez?" And I said, "To go collect donations from a couple hundred hellbound sodomites at the Log Cabin Republican breakfast." To which a shocked and dismayed Karl responded, "A breakfast? I thought they only did those great after-hours parties in the cellar of the Arlington Ground Round!" He was downright heartbroken I hadn't asked him to come along. But he gave me this hundred dollar bill, and made me promise that when the Chippendales start serving coffee later, I will tuck it somewhere appropriately dark and warm on his behalf.

You know, until a few days ago, I couldn't figure out why it is that you people worship me the way you do. I kept asking myself, is it because my advisors in the Presidential Prayer Squad condemn all of you to an eternity of being tortured by Satan in a non-metaphorical lake of fire? No, that couldn't be it. Is it because we firmly believe that all of you secretly use your taxpayer-financed vacation time to travel to Africa and have sex with monkeys? No, I don't think so. Or is it because I advocate the fiscally disastrous tax cuts which will put a few measly extra bucks in your rubber pants pockets, and allow you to buy a bigger bottle of Giorgio Armani bath oil for your next hot tub orgy? Well, that might play in to it somewhat, but in the end, I have to accept that most of my appeal for you people is a direct result of my spectacularly muscular ass. I mean, I'm not blind. I know there aren't any other 55 year-old alcoholics running seven minute miles in Washington DC. Just look at this body. (Flexes.) And look at this ass. (Points.) Pure ripped power. Hell - I can shell a 20 oz. can of whole walnuts with these cheeks. Which is all to say, I understand why you support me, and while I remain profoundly revolted by every cell in your bodies, I am nevertheless willing to appear here today, pretend to not fear and despise you, and rack up your votes come November. (Applause.)

And on that note, I need to wrap up. I made a deal with the Christian Coalition that if I limited my remarks here to under 10 minutes, then promptly fled the scene to sign legislation prohibiting you people from using public water fountains, that they would refrain from launching a devastating smear campaign against me. And it's been nine minutes. So please - make your checks payable to "Bush/Cheney 2004." Candace Gingrich will be around to collect them later.

Thank you all, and may God Bless if you ever decide to give up your wholly voluntary lifestyle of sickening depravity which guarantees that you will burn in hell forever.

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