TRANSCRIPT OF LATE-NIGHT PHONE CALL BETWEEN PRESIDENT BUSH AND CRUELLY PERSECUTED ETHICS POSTERCHILD KENNETH LAY
Officious White House Transcipt
[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]
WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR: Collect call from Kenneth Lay, sir.
THE PRESIDENT: Wha?
WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR: Collect call from Kenneth Lay, sir.
THE PRESIDENT: But I'm eating a Ho-Ho and watching Grey's Anatomy on the ol' TV-oh.
WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR: Will you accept charges?
THE PRESIDENT: Well, shoot. Criminy. Yeah. The American taxpayer accepts charges.
KENNETH LAY: Thank you, Mr. President.
THE PRESIDENT: Kenny Boy!
KENNETH LAY: Oh, Mr. President, I'm drunk and I'm soooo scared! Is it God's will that I get all butt-raped by
a large, tattooed black man named "Otis" or "Gizzards" who's serving 25 to life for selling a dime bag to
some upstanding young gentleman on the Duke lacrosse team? What kind of God would do that? What kind of God would allow one human
being to prey on another? (Sobs.)
THE PRESIDENT: Yeah, I heard about your conviction. I don't know if I'm supposed to be talking to you, Kenny Boy.
KENNETH LAY: WAIL! SOB! HOWL!
THE PRESIDENT: I mean, we did have some good times and all. But that was then and this is now.
KENNETH LAY: WHIMPER! LAMENT! WEEP!
THE PRESIDENT: Ah, heck, Kenny Boy. What do you want me to do?
KENNETH LAY: Since you asked: how about a pardon?
THE PRESIDENT: Uhhh... Well... You're on the long short list, Kenny Boy. Right after Scooter. And DeLay.
Jack Abramoff, and Duke Cunningham. Bob Ney, and Rob Simmons, and Charles Taylor and... I think I'm forgetting
a bunch more. But don't you fret. I am totally mega-loyal to my pals!
KENNETH LAY: You do believe that I had no idea that Enron was so fucked up, right?
THE PRESIDENT: You do believe that I thought there were WMDs in the Iraqi desert, right?
KENNETH LAY: But you're not about to be sent to the slammer!
THE PRESIDENT: It's good to be the President, huh? Listen to this: "I, George W. Bush, do heretofore pardon you, George W. Bush."
Ah-har-har-har!
Hold on – I got another call.
TREASURY SECRETARY JOHN SNOW: Mr. President, It's John Snow.
THE PRESIDENT: Who?
TREASURY SECRETARY JOHN SNOW: The Secretary of the Treasury?
THE PRESIDENT: Paul O'Neill? You broke my heart, motherfucker!
TREASURY SECRETARY JOHN SNOW: No, sir. John Snow. The guy you hired after O'Neill?
THE PRESIDENT: Bean Counter?
TREASURY SECRETARY JOHN SNOW: Sigh. Yessir.
THE PRESIDENT: What do you want?
TREASURY SECRETARY JOHN SNOW: I have decided to tender my resignation.
THE PRESIDENT: I thought you quit six months ago. Dang. Hold on.
WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR: Yes, Mr. President?
THE PRESIDENT: Get me my Chief of Staff, as soon as possibly ASAP!
CHIEF OF STAFF JOSH BOLTEN: Good evening, Mr. President.
THE PRESIDENT: Andy? Andy, that guy with the creepy eyebrows just quit.
CHIEF OF STAFF JOSH BOLTEN: This is Josh Bolten, sir. Your new Chief of Staff?
THE PRESIDENT: Don't smart me, boy. If I want to call you Karen Hughes, you will lower your register and walk like
your panties are stuffed with avocadoes. We need a new Federal Accountant. Thoughts? Go. Wait. Get me Goldman or Sachs.
CHIEF OF STAFF JOSH BOLTEN: They're dead, sir.
THE PRESIDENT: Then get me someone that smells like steak, cognac, and evil. One of my Wall Street boys. Somebody
I can trust. You think the CEO of AT&T is game? They sold out their customers and fellow citizens lickety-split,
all because I was all "BOO!" And I respect that. We can't nominate Ken Lay, right?
CHIEF OF STAFF JOSH BOLTEN: You're joking, sir? Ha, ha?
THE PRESIDENT: Of course I'm fucking joking. Fuck you, Andy. Now go get me a Secretary of Bling, yo.
CHIEF OF STAFF JOSH BOLTEN: How about we nominate Henry Paulson? He RUNS Goldman and Sachs.
THE PRESIDENT: Whatever. Just do it. President out. Hello? Kenny Boy?
KENNETH LAY: Yes, Mr. President. Did you know that the hold music is nothing but bone-chilling screaming in what sounds like Arabic?
THE PRESIDENT: Farsi. Hell, Kenny Boy, I don't know what to tell you. Let me tell you a story, and as a fellow Texan,
I think you'll appreciate it. Once upon a time, somewhere in west Texas there are these three cowpokes. Every night,
around the fire, they all quietly amble off one by one into the darkness and fuck a heifer. It's dark, and no one
sees anything, and all you can hear is, you know, the desert. But then one day, two of the cowpokes see the third
with his pants around his ankles, getting balls-deep in that heifer in broad daylight. Now, these three
were best of friends, but the two not fucking the heifer still shot the third dead. Because it's a disgusting
thing to do, fuck a cow. Got it?
KENNETH LAY: I'm scared, Mr. President.
THE PRESIDENT: They're liquefying all your assets, ain't they?
KENNETH LAY: Yessir. Even my five million dollar condo.
THE PRESIDENT: Phew. That's for damn shame. So then you're broke, huh? No more GOP campaign contributions?
KENNETH LAY: That's right, sir.
(CLICK)
[END TRANSCRIPT]
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