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For Immediate Release - Office of the Press Secretary - March 17, 2003 - 8:01 P.M. (EST)

PRESIDENT'S TELEVISED ADDRESS GRANTING SADDAM HUSSEIN 48 HOURS TO STOP MISTAKING THIS GEORGE BUSH FOR THAT OTHER SISSYPANTS CHICKEN QUITTER
Remarks by the President in Address to the Nation
The Cross Hall

THE PRESIDENT: My fellow citizens, events in Iraq have now reached the final days of my willingness to keep my personal blood lust for Saddam Hussein in check. For more than a decade, the United States and other nations have successfully crushed Iraq into the ground with crippling economic sanctions and almost-constant bombing of nearly half their worthless desert landscape. Yet today, Iraq's ruling regime remains in power, seemingly for no other reason than to rub my maniacally proud family's patrician honker in a big steaming loaf of its most humiliating failure.

Twelve years ago, another American President named George Bush stormed into Iraq on a noble mission of political expediency and petrochemical liberation. Today, Saddam Hussein had better stop mistaking this George Bush with that one. For indeed, we are two very different George Bushes. That George Bush grew up a Yankee. That George Bush excelled in academics. That George Bush flew fighter jets in actual combat. That George Bush started companies that were profitable. That George Bush was elected to the Presidency. And that George Bush successfully forged an international coalition to support his profit-motivated exploitation of the United States Military. But you know what? When push came to shove, that George Bush folded like a frickin' origami ballerina because he was too chicken to send a few thousand worthless grunts into the mean streets of Baghdad for some down-and-dirty, kill-for-the-hell-of-it whoopass.

Since then, the world has engaged in 12 years of diplomacy. We have passed more than a dozen resolutions in the United Nations Security Council. We have sent hundreds of weapons inspectors to oversee the disarmament of Iraq. And still, our boundless paranoia cannot be eliminated.

Today, totally objective intelligence gathered by our government leaves no doubt that the Iraqastani regime continues to be unable to prove that it has destroyed all those weapons Don Rumsfeld sold them in the 70's so they could wipe out the Iranian menace. To be sure, this regime has already used American-produced weapons of maxi destruction against not only its worthless Arabiac neighbors, but also against its own people - the majority of whom it should be noted are America-hating terrorists.

Now some other George Bush might have been content to sit by and pass up an opportunity to use this scoundrel as an election-winning scapegoat. Well this George Bush is another story, and he's sick and tired of knowing that Saddam Hussein is living it up in the Iraqazoid White House, having himself the kind of good old booze-and-sex-drenched parties that make Osama bin Laden routinely call for his ouster. And all the while, he's laughing at my daddy. And THAT is something I cannot abide. Dare anyone doubt me on that point, I urge them to look at the facts:

When former Texas Governor Ann Richards talked shit about my daddy at the Democratic Convention, I gave up my cushy life as a baseball team's sure-thing investor to show that silver-haired gash what happens when you fuck with the Bush klan. When Bill Clinton kicked my daddy into the gutter of the one-termer ghetto, I spared no expense or energy sending his hand-picked boy Al "Qaeda" Gore packing to Prozacville. And when Ari Fleischer once snickered because my dad had a piece of spinach stuck in his teeth, well I didn't hestiate to grab him by that greasy horseshoe of scruff he calls hair and get all Goodfellas on his hellbound Jewboy ass.

And so today, the first two years of my administration's deceit and political manipulation are now reaching a moment of simulated truth. Saddam Hussein and his sons must leave Iraq within 48 hours. Their refusal to do so will result in the personal vendatta-inspired military conflict that has been a foregone conclusion since the day of my near-election. Indeed, the hour of my blood dynasty's desissification is near.

And hear me well: I don't care how many colored American GI's or sub-human Muslamian babies get killed, Saddam – so long as I never have to spend another Kennebunkport Thanksgiving watching my pathetic old man sob like a woman over not having had the balls to take you out when it was legally legitimate to do so.

That is the future I have chosen. Plutocracies have a duty to perpetuate themselves by uniting against the conveniently demonized and almost effortlessly defeated. And tonight, as we have done before, the Republican Party embraces that course of least resistance.

Good night, and may God continue to bless my re-election prospects.

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