THE PRESIDENT: Good morning. Today, with the countdown for America's just and moral crusade against Islamia reaching its final stage, I have been advised to send greetings to Muslamoids around the world as you people celebrate that annual Christmas-wannabe terrorist convention of yours in Saudi bin Labia. It is my sincere hope that none of you boys get coal in your stockings, nor that the chilly desert breezes blowing up your Hare Krishna togas make your sacks get so prickly they chafe that Caramello thigh meat of yours raw before me and Rummy get a chance to bomb it into the Godless dust the good Lord intends for it to be.

You know, the Bible teaches us that mid-February is a time of love. It's a time when God's true chosen people identify themselves by pigging out on cinnamon red hots, and exchanging $3.50 heart-shaped cards filled with girlish little poems that only a homo would ever be caught dead saying out loud. Truly, it is a time of profound meaningfulness and a reaffirmation of the superiority of American chocolate. And that's why it's all the more puzzling to Laura and me how you people can thumb your nose at a good thing in favor of going to Mecca and line dancing in open sewers around a big ugly cubist Christmas tree almost five weeks after anyone in their right mind has already disassembled theirs and put it back in the attic.

I was recently intrigued to learn that those of you who embark upon the pilgrimmage to the holy land are called "hadjis." Now I know a thing or two about hadjis. I used to dish them out - along with purple nurples - to scrawny weasel fellas in the locker room after baseball practice. Now, why you'd want to call yourself the same thing as a musty Fruit of the Loom buttcrack tourniquet is beyond me, but hey, I know you need something to keep you occupied during your life-long drag race down the highway to hell.

To be honest with you though, if the Secret Service weren't convinced I'd be subjected to mob dismemberment immediately upon arrival, I'd truly like to join you people in Mecca. As a former DEKE social committee chairman, I've got a damned solid record when it comes to throwing sweet toga ragers. And while that whole beer prohibition thing would no doubt be a significant downer, I'm more than confident that we can compensate for it with plenty of demon stonings, mass tramplings, and chopping the hands off any poor or homeless folks dumb enough to show their faces in broad daylight. Oh well. Maybe next year.

In closing, I wanted to say that this year's Hajithon comes at a time when my family's collective energy stock portfolio faces great challenges and important opportunities. As such, my United States remains committed to stimulating Texaco market share, Christianity, and socio-cultural hegemony - and we will continue to bribe desperate and impoverished Muslamoid toady nations into letting us establish the military foothold which will serve as the foundation for America's mighty superdome of Christian Petro-Plutocracy which will one day soon shelter and protect the entire clueless Middle East from the hot sun which steams so majestically through our perfectly healthy ozone layer.

Thank you.

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