9/20    fucking coward.

  Judge Starr, Members of Congress, people of America, I
  banged her. I banged her like a cheap gong. Which is not
  news, folks, because if you think Monica Lewinsky was
  the only skin flute player in my orchestra, you haven't
  been paying attention.

  The only babes in D.C. I haven't tried to do are the
  First Lady, Reno, Albright, and Shalala, mostly because
  they're a little older than I like and they have legs
  that former Houston Oiler Earl Campbell would envy.
  Which isn't to say I don't appreciate Hillary, I do. If
  not for the ice-water coursing through her veins, I'd be
  pumping gas into farm equipment in Hope, Arkansas, and
  she'd be married to the President.

  So, let me set the record straight. I dodged the draft,
  hid FBI files, smoked dope, flipped Whitewater property,
  set up a new Korean wing in the White House, fired the
  travel staff, paid hush money to Hubbell, sold the
  Lincoln bedroom like an upscale Motel 6, and grabbed
  every ass that entered the Oval Office. Got it? Good.

  Six years ago, there's not a man, woman, or child who
  didn't know I was as horny as Woody Allen. But, you
  elected me anyway, which turned out to be a good move on
  your part. Your other choice was Bush, an aging baseball
  player and part-time resident of some place called
  "Kennebunkport" who thought he could bomb his way into
  the White House.

  Before him, it was Reagan, who left the office with the
  same Alzheimer's he came in with. There was Carter
  before him who brought you a 17% prime interest rate,
  smiling the whole time like his lithium drip had just
  kicked in. Nixon before that coined, but never really
  understood, the concept of 'plausible deniability,' and
  almost got a one-way ticket to San Clemente for his
  crackerjack style of governing. Johnson was an inbred,
  power-mad war criminal whose major contribution to
  American society was Agent Orange.

  And John Kennedy, who was a little naughty himself,
  didn't hang around long enough for America to spot that
  curious atavistic tic for "beaver-wrestling" shared by
  at least a dozen former residents of the White House.
  Which brings me back to my point.

  Since I have been strumming the banjo here at the White
  House, government is doing more for less. The budget is
  balanced for the first time since JFK did a one gun
  salute to Marilyn, a fact the press didn't seem to care
  about, evidently. Unemployment is so low today a blind
  felon can get a job as a night-watchman. And the stock
  market is higher than a D-student on a full gram of
  dumb-dust, and anyone with a degree from a junior
  college who can spell 'internet' has enough money to
  ponder the annual maintenance cost of his boat, instead
  of where his or her next meal is coming from.

  Bottom line: I'm running a country here and I'm doing it
  with my pecker showing. What I'm asking for is your
  support, not a date with your daughter, unless, of
  course, she's a hotty with thin ankles, and then I'd
  like to discuss it.

  In the meantime, think about where you are today and
  what kind of life you're living before you get too
  interested in where I'm parking the Presidential
  limousine.

  Thank you, good night and God bless America.