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For Immediate Release - Office of the Press Secretary - April 25, 2004 - 3:48 P.M. (EST)

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!"


'Womb Booger on Board' Maternity Wear!


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 womanly duty.

Thank you girls, and God Bless the Christian menfolk who are deciding your futures!


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