THE PRESIDENT: Good afternoon. Thank you. Thank you for the warm welcome. After five whole days in Europe, me and Laura I can't tell you how nice it is to be back on a continent where people use deodorant – north of the Rio Grande, anyways.

(Applause.)

I had a real productive three-stop trip to Europe. I know hundreds of millions of folks over there had been praying long and hard that they'd be getting a visit from a certain President Kerry this year. Unfortunately for them, 60 million Americans were praying to send ME instead. This once again just goes to prove how much more God loves His favorite child America, and gives it whatever it wants – even when all of His other children are begging and pleading for stuff in a bunch of dumb languages that God doesn't even understand.

(Applause.)

Anyway, my first stop in Europe was Brussels – like those Peppery Farms cookies – to meet with French President Jack Shirrack. Now since this trip was supposed to be a trip about "new beginnings," my original plan had been to visit Jack in France itself. Unfortunately,

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the Secret Service determined that millions of French protesters, rather than heeding my hollow call for "new beginnings," were instead eager to create a "new opening." Specifically, a new opening at the end of my digestive tract. And so off to Brussels it was.

Old Jack and me had a real good talk. I told him how despite everything that's happened: how I was wrong about WMDs in Iraq, how I was wrong about being greeted as liberators, how I was wrong about "mission accomplished," that I'm still willing to let bygones be bygones and let him send thousands of French boys into Iraq to get blowed into poodle chow.

And you know what? After I'd finished making my mega-persuasive argument, I'm happy to say that Jack smiled real pretty for the cameras, and agreed to everything. Well, almost everything. Instead of "thousands," he agreed to "one." And instead of "into Iraq," he agreed to "consulting from Paris." Boy, ain't America lucky to have elected such a brilliant negotiator as me?

(Applause.)

And so I traveled to Mainz, Germany, where I worked more of that same magic on Chancellor Jerry Schroeder. Except that time, it was even more of success, because Jerry also joined me in a very public show of support for my recent demand that the Iranistazis abandon their nukular ambitionizing.

Sure, it was just so much political posturing on Jerry's part. And sure, I'm probably still going to start bombing Iran this summer. But I'm also putting some stock in the idea that it might scare Irania to have the modern-day King of the Nazis talking tough by my side. Heck, for all those wacky moo-lahs know, me and Schroeder are already firing up the Auschwitz ovens – except this time for Islamiacs. Because honestly, aren't Muslims pretty much just another swarthy tribe of hook-nosed, porkophobic heathens – only too pathetic to even turn a profit?

(Applause.)

Now friends, speaking as a life-long gambler, when you're on a winning streak like that, you don't stop to rest. So I reluctantly declined Jerry's kind offer to spend the night in Berchtesgaden, and jetted off to Slovakia, where I sat down with my old pal Vlad "Pooty-Poot" Putin.

Now some of you may recall my first meeting with President Putin several years back, when I gazed deep into that diminutive KGB hit-man's squinty, weasel-like eyes, and proudly told the world, "I was able to get a sense of his soul." (Incidentally, that's a useful trick I learned from Nancy Reagan's astrologer, and I highly recommend it any heads of state looking for heavy-duty negotiating leverage.) And then I assured the world that we could count on Vlad to be a rock-steady champion of FREEDOM^®.

Of course, recent days have seen Vlad taking steps to customize FREEDOM^®, not unlike a pimply Japanese teenager tinkering with his Honda Civic lowrider. Now I must confess to finding some of Vlad's FREEDOM^® modifications to be very attractive – such as the imprisonment of liberal troublemakers, the muzzling of a fact-addicted free press, and the patriotic enhancement of foreign election results. Unfortunately though, inasmuch as FREEDOM^® was invented by America, any such modifications made without our express written consent represent a grave violation of the FREEDOM^® licensing agreement.

And so I voiced my concerns to Vlad behind closed doors. Gazing deeply into his heart once again, I patiently explained how America's patent and trademark on FREEDOM^® must be respected and upheld. I spoke passionately, for two straight hours, stopping only for Stoli shots, and when I was done, America's dear friend Vlad narrowed his eyes into paper-thin slits, curled the edges of his lips upwards ever-so-slightly, and gave a heartfelt and jubilant "NYET!" And while I don't know exactly what that means, his tight little smirk tells me it must be something good. And so we al had a nice wrap-up photo-op, and Pickles and me took the first red-eye out of Bratislava.

You know I once said "this foreign policy stuff is hard work!" And I was right. But if this latest trip to Europe proves anything, it's that Americans can rest assured that they've got a President who's willing to put in the hard work, even if it means travelling to snooty countries that won't even serve him a freakin' PB&J – if that's what it takes to the kind of incredible results we saw this week.

(Applause.)

Thank you, and God Bless America.

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