FIRST LADY'S ADMONITION TO PATHETICALLY SPARSE GATHERING OF LESBIAN, YET HETEROSEXUALLY PROMISCUOUS FEMINAZIS PLOTTING THE WHOLESALE EXTERMINATION OF AMERICA'S WOMB BOOGERS
Remarks by the First Lady
THE FIRST LADY: Thank you. Good afternoon, gals! Geez Louise, what a catchy song that was! Let's give a hand to Ani
DiFranco and her band!
I'm sure we will all be humming that little ditty tomorrow as we go about our morning rituals to become presentable to
men. Me, gently cleansing my lady parts and shaving my legs almost all the way up to my thighs, while you butch activist
types are just scrounging around your cat-pee stained shag rugs for some filthy thong to slide over your cellulite.
I want to thank the organizers of your quaint little baby-killing rally for inviting me.
As you know, I usually avoid malls that don't have a Dress Barn, but when they told me this was supposed to benefit women, I said to
myself, "Now Laura, those girls are counting on YOU, as the world's duly elected leader of the inferior gender, to go and set a ladylike
example. So put down that after-church Not-So-Virgin Mary Big Gulp and stumble your keister over there right now!"
And here I am, providing some much-needed Republican perspective to your Democratic toddler-murdering festival.
Gracious me, who ever would have guessed that so many lezby-friends would care what happens after a boy churns his meatsicle
around in a girl's meatsicle receptacle? I'm just amazed at you ladies. At least I think you're ladies. It looks like most of you
missed the nice Nair® coupon circular in this morning's USA Today. Honestly, I haven't seen so many hairy legs since
Mrs. Cheney's last "Wyoming Rodeo Babes" overnight tickle party in the Naval Observatory root cellar.
But you know gals, it's really too bad FOX News is reporting that the turnout for this event is so embarrassingly low. Bushie is watching on C-SPAN
right now, and he made me promise that if the crowd was big enough, I would crack his "Great Mall of Vagina" joke. Oh well. Next time I guess.
Anyway, the reason I've come here today is to try and persuade some of you people to become Pro-Life. And by "life," I certainly don't mean
those mysteriously swarthy adults who fill the ranks of Mr. Cheney's Middle Eastern crusader force. No, I mean those sweet little microscopic
boogers that take root on our bedwomb walls after we endure menfolk having their vile way with our disgusting and shameful female holes.
I know, I know, I was like you once – a pre-menopausal cock-hungry slut with no respect for the helpless role that God intended
for us when he punched a hole in Adam's chest and magically yanked out a rib-shaped woman. In fact, a lot of ladies I know are still
scared off by the idea of being Pro-Life. They think having children is a great responsibility. But, from my experience, it is little
different from owning a couple of cats. You bring them home, let the Mexican help feed and occasionally de-worm them, then trot them out once each
year to appear in the family Christmas card photo! Of course, with cats, you don't have to give them Band-Aids so that their pert, always-aroused
nipples don't protrude from their blouses and distract their father.
So please, I would strongly advise each and every one of you to embrace Pro-Lifeness now, while you still have the face-saving luxury of claiming
personal volition in the matter. My hubby has already signed the Partial Birth Abortion Ban,
and just as soon as he finishes smearing John Kerry for once having had convictions, he will be packing the Supreme Court with ideological
clones of Antonin Scalia and Clarence Thomas. And then before you know it, Roe vs. Wade will be overturned and POOF! – abortion
will be illegal and our country's Chinese dry cleaners will be doing a brisk side business in wholesale wire hangers! Which come to think
of it, is just the way it would and should have stayed unless those pesky liberals had given uppity girls like you the right to vote.
I know a lot of gals at the Dallas Junior League who can't pick up a freshly pressed St. John's suit and take a whiff of that intoxicating dry
cleaning fluid without growing misty-eyed about all the times they got inconveniently knocked up before becoming married, rich, and Republican.
Now all that said, before I go, I do want to clear the air on one fine point.
Karl has let it seep out in the press that I just may be "Pro-Choice" – just as was done about Barbara Bush when her husband was in
the White House. But I'm here to tell you: no matter how much that old crone hates Neil, she would never lessen her chances to play one
son against the other by thinning the herd. And while it may comfort soccer moms out there to think that I might be a voice of moderation
in a household headed by delusional religious-crazy zealot, you can bet your bottom dollar that if I had to live through the
soap-opera-interrupting torment of raising a coupe of hell raising fetal-alcohol harlots like Jenna and Barbara, I'm sure as shootin'
going to do my damnedest to make sure that none of you gals get it any easier!
Shut up! I'm not finished! I also want to set the record straight for people who think that my husband George
is personally opposed to abortion. He's not! In fact, many's the time I've seen him bolt upright out of a sound sleep during a
vivid napmare flashback, shrieking "Poppy! Don't make me marry that Houston skank I knocked up! If you arrange
the abortion, I'll do anything, up to and including enduring a rubber-stamp legacy acceptance into Harvard Business School!"
And since I'm usually still reading in my bed on the other side of the room, I put down my "sweet dreams" 30 oz. brandy tumbler of
white zinfandel on the rocks, stamp out my ciggie, and march right over there to comfort my little hugga-bear.
I cradle his head, smooth his coarse birds nest of hair, and softly coo, "There, there, Bushie. You could have saved yourself $200 by never
paying for that underage colored slut's abortion. Without any healthcare, she probably would have died in childbirth."
And then he gently sobs himself back to sleep, and I retire to my bed, content in the knowledge that I have done my
Thank you girls, and God Bless the Christian menfolk who are deciding your futures!