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January 20, 2007

President's Message to Ministers & Faculty Opposing George W. Bush Library at Southern Methodist University

THE PRESIDENT: Good afternoon. You all may have noticed I'm always saying I don't give a gosh darn about those polling numbers. All I care about is how history remembers me. In other words, I'm counting on folks who never actually met me to like me a whole lot more than the folks who did!

You see, half-way through his second term, a lame duck President's thoughts have a funny way of turning to his legacy. He wonders, "How can I make sure folks keep worshipping me?" and "How will I keep duping my base of McJesus crackers once I've lost my bullshitty pulpit?"

Well, it's looking more and more like killing thousands of you all's kids to bring an Islamic civil war to Iraq isn't exactly going to do the trick. Folks say I'm bad at that long-range planning stuff, but I'll have you know I've got me a fallback legacy-guaranteer! The answer, of course, is to spend hundreds of bajillions of dollars to erect a grotesque shrine to my own ego.

That's why lately, I've had my staff looking for a sweet patch of free turf on which to build the George W. Bush Presidential Library. Unfortunately, though we thought we had a nice spot all picked out at Southern Millionaire's University, I'm now told that plan might be iffy, on account of a handful of fruitloop liberal, make-pretend Methodist professors and pastors have started a petition to "Protect SMU." They say I would hurt the school's reputation. (Rolls eyes and spits.) I guess they those brainiacs didn't get the memo that says "Just like the Lord Jesus saved your soul on a cross in Israel, George W. Bush saved your ass on a pile of rubble in New York."

What makes this extra-ironical is that I always used to think I didn't even want a library. I always thought of them as just places where Pickles finally shut her nagging yap. After all, libraries are for books, which are totally femmy-snoresville unless you're having a super-macho reading contest with Karl Rove – or need to be photographed holding something that don't got a pop-top. But then I went to the opening of the William J. Clinton Center down in Arkansas – you know, the one that looks like big aluminum boner? Well after a whole day of listening to all those liberals gush and coo over how fancy and awesome that dump was, I decided right then and there that I would totally one-up that daddy-job-stealing, blow-job-getting asshole with a super-deluxe Presidential joint of my own! Yes, I now accept that the Presidential Library is a proud American tradition. For how else can a nation of folks who swear they hate monarchies go and prove their fealty at gilded mausoleums to omnipotent rulers?

Luckily, those SMU ministers don't need to worry about my "library." After all, it was me who signed Executive Order 13233, which sealed up the Presidential Records of my poppy and Uncle Ron so nobody would ever go snooping through that embarrassing Iran Contra stuff. So when it comes to MY Presidential compound, aside from the 800,000 sq. foot warehouse for propaganda banners and slogans, and a furnace for the 15,700,000 "way too super-duper classified to ever be read by folks" documents, the only stuff viewable by the public will be a display case with 3 interoffice memos between some fellow – his name is blacked out – and Mrs. Delores Pritchett, our friendly phone operator, about renewing her parking permit.

Nevertheless, I understand that the debate now underway at SMU needs to play out. They have to reach a community consensus, and iron out various challenging logistical concerns: like traffic, and parking, and how far away from the entrance to place the truck bomb barricades for the inevitable convoy of terrorists who will materialize to exact payback on the monument to the guy who ordered hundreds of thousands of Arabiacs slaughtered. All these things must be considered.

In the end though, I'm confident that like any religious institution, SMU and its faculty will set aside any pesky ideological convictions or inconvenient ethical integrity in favor of the chance to spend decades furiously suckling at the fat cash teat of patrio-tourism. And one day soon, thousands of smelly hillbillies will pile into their RV campers to make the holy pilgrimage to SMU, and the one and only George W. Bush Presidential Library and Fabulously Profitable Über-Patriotic Gift Shop.

And if they don't, then FUCK THEM. Me and my shoebox of unclassified documents will just go to Bob Jones University!

Thank you, and good night.

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