THE PRESIDENT: Good morning. Please be seated. I hope everyone enjoyed their Thanksgivings. From the smell of it in here, I can tell some of you journalist faggots are still passing giblet vapors.

(Laughter.)

Today, I am pleased to announce my cosmetic appointment of Dr. Henry Kissinger as Chief Tattletale about those two big buildings that fell down and went boom last year. I do this despite the fact that nearly all Americans have clearly expressed their desire that I be left alone to do my job in unquestioned peace and quiet. Nevertheless, the "free press" insists I compromise the livelihoods of countless blue-eyed plutocrats by talking publicly about my doings.

So here it goes: it seems that New York City didn't learn its lesson and be thankful that the rest of the country hasn't built an electric fence around that floating pebble of crybaby folk singers, dope smokers, and darkie muggers. In fact, the families of the victims of the greatest historical windfall ever bestowed upon Republican strategists have been dragging their harpy-like, Gore-voting nails across the chalkboard of public opinion, demanding I spill the beans about how much I knew about 9/11 before it even happened.

At first, I tried drowning them in moolah, but no - those recession-loving commie banshees won't settle for anything short of the truth. So instead, I'm giving them the second greatest gift Germany ever gave us after beer: Dr. Henry "Strangelove" Kissinger. If there's anyone more loyal to America's will to preserve my approval ratings, it's Henry. He's part of the Harvard Mafia, which is where I got my degree in TCB. Also, not only was Nixon afraid of him, but if you slap a big rubber Jew nose on Karl Rove, well, the resemblance is really kind of spooky. They have tons in common, too. For instance - they both garroted their consciences long ago to serve the interests of a corrupt elite that is hell-bent on feeding the deluded masses foul sausages ground from the innards of the rotting carcass of American democracy.

If you're living in a ranch-style house, eating a plate of Eggos and soaking in every word I say, chances are you are blessedly ignorant of American history and therefore, don't know who Henry is. God Bless you, my vacuous FOX-watching receptacles of masterfully manipulative soundbytes.

As for the rest of you, you might remember Henry from such super-secret historical moments that never happened as "Pinochet, America's Favoritest Genocidal Puppet Fascist," "Deep Throating Slant-Eyed Stalinists," and "Singing in the Secret Daisy Cutter Rain (Cambodia Remix)." Those were the days, as the song goes.

And so, it is with great honor that I appoint Dr. Henry Kissinger to quiet the doubting, turncoat rabble with incoherently mumbled, harmless white baritone lies. You see, what you don't know CAN and WILL hurt you. And what you unthankful, conspiratorial welfare widows and sniveling maggots who distrust my divine word don't know CAN and WILL fill your very own coffins.

Got that? Good. No questions, please.

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