THE PRESIDENT: Thank you, Prime Minister Martin. Me and Laura are so pleased to be down here in Canadia for the first leg of our "fence-mending" tour. After four years of me shooting juicy diplomatic spitballs in your faces, we're awful thankful for you taking this time away from whatever unimportant stuff it is you do here in the southeastern suburbs of Alaska.

America and Canadia share a history, a continent, and a border. And while I'm tossing out the earth-shattering epiphanies here, let me also remind you that we also both breathe air, sleep, and go poopy. There, see how much we have in common? So lose the uppity hostility, OK? Because we're practically identical – except for that whole "you not mattering and being pussies who don't have nukes" thing.

I want to thank all the Canadiac people who came out to wave – with all five fingers – for – (laughter) – for their hospitality. (Laughter.)

Get the GODLY New Book!

See, that was a little joke – casually yet strategically dropped to dispel any suspicion that I inherited that gene from my mom and dad that makes them scream at liberals on the television so hard that half the veins rupture in their jiggly old turkey necks.

After Canada, I'm also going to be hitting a bunch of the other chickenshit countries who refused to submit and become tools of my righteous colonialist bloodlust. But don't confuse photo-op PR "fence-mending" with genuine contrition. Ask me if I'd do anything in Iraq differently, and I'll say "NO" every time. So just think of me (and America, by extension) as a physically abusive ex-lover, who still knows you deserved those black eyes, but isn't so cold that he won't drop by every few years to snap some Polaroids and let you cook him dinner.

Now as you know, my original plan for this trip was to follow state visit protocol and address the Canadican parliament, but then I got ascared that I might get heckled – so here I am in my usual hermetically sealed room full of carefully vetted, applauding-on-cue yes-men. I'm told though that around 5000 folks are protesting my visit. Man, 33 million people in this whole backwater country and that's all you could wrassle up? I wish America's liberals took more after you people – and I'm not just talking about the cornholing polar bears thing. (Laughter.)

I also want the Canadiac people to know that Prime Minister Martin and I talked about a lot of little things he seemed to care about for some reason.

For one thing, he reminded me that it has been over a year and a half since America banned the import of Canadian beef on account of Mad Cow Disease – and how that's hurting Canuck farmers awful bad. And truth be told, I had forgotten all about that. Like most Americans, I once cared where my meat came from (remember "100% USDA Select Beef"?) – but now that McDonalds gets all the frozen, hormone-engorged hamburger patties it needs from Brazil, nobody gives a shit so long as the Big Mac stays under $2.50. Besides, buying Brazilian beef has the added benefit of helping to wipe out the rain forests, which might otherwise be used as terrorist hideouts.

I told the Prime Minister that I understand his concerns about beef, but that America will of course continue to take whatever paranoid steps it damn well feels like in order to protect itself from likely imaginary threats. Because after all, the last thing America needs is to catch a disease that eats giant holes in its brain until it's so retardedly Canadian, it ends up giving free health care to people too poor to understand that they don't deserve to live long.

Prime Minister Martin also complained about how increased U.S. border security is hurting other kinds of trade. He thinks that we should make it easier for their stuff to cross America's border – and he even tried to cozy up to me by implying that terrorists want to attack Canada, too. Of course, the fact is that nobody wants to attack Canada. It's a desolate, frostbitten wasteland. More importantly, you never make people hate you by doing cool stuff like using economic extortion and bombing women and babies. And THAT makes you no fun to pick on. Hell, you're like that weird kid on the playground who's so goddamned ordinary and boring and quiet, he wouldn't even cry if you gave him a piano wire wedgie.

In closing, let me just say how great this trip has been. And as far as I'm concerned, the fences have all been mended. Boy, I sure am glad that if there's one constant in the world today, it's that the vast majority of people are such uninformed, malleable sheep – that even a cynically obvious stunt like this trip, completely devoid of any substance or sincerity, will nevertheless sway millions of Canadianese to change their opinions of both America and yours truly – at least until the next time we get hopped up on speed and kill a bunch of you.

Thank you, and God Bless America!

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