THE PRESIDENT: Gooooood morning, Grunts and Gruntettes! And welcome to the 105th annual Army-Navy football game!

(Shouts of "HOO-AHHH, HOO-AHHH!")

Hey, it's great to back in Philly. Some call it "The City of Brotherly Love," but I like to think of it as "Filthadelphia: The Northeast's Very Own Houston."

(Cheers.)

Yup, as we gather here at Lincoln Financial Field, wheezing on the rancid, acrid fumes that belch from the oil refinery smokestacks surrounding this stadium, let us pray together for a future in which ALL of America has come to resemble this majestically post-apocalyptic uban industrial wasteland!

(Applause.)

You know, when they told me a few days ago that I was coming to a football game, I knew right away that I had to play a prank way better than that queer "Harvard Sucks" stunt that the Yalies pulled off last week in Cambridge. I mean, what kind of pussy joke forces anybody to read stuff?

Get the GODLY New Book!

That's why when we were approaching Philly a few minutes ago, I ordered the pilot to buzz the stadium with my 747! (Laughs.) Oh man, I was up in the cockpit, and you should have seen your faces! I practically bust a gut watching you suckers scream and scatter like ants as soon as it looked like you had another 9/11 on your hands! (Laughs.) Don't deny it! I saw it with my own eyes! And by the smell of things in this joint, I can tell that at least a few thousand of you still have a nice juicy reminder of my prank seeping out through the back of your skivvies. (Laughs.)

Anyway, it's a great day for a ball game, isn't it? Now me, I'm more of a baseball guy myself. I don't know, something about the way these football dudes throw themselves into those big piles where their faces get crammed into each other's sweaty giblets – it always struck me as a little homoish. In baseball, we limit our contact to macho stuff like approvingly slapping and rubbing each other's big bubble heinies every time someone does good-like.

But whatever. Let's get down to business.

Today, as I look out over this sea of young, freshly scrubbed military faces, hanging on my every word like I'm a God on Earth, I can't help but think how weird it is to know that by the end of my second term, fully one in five of you will probably have been killed in Iraq or Iran or wherever. So you can believe me when I say how thankful I am that well over 90% of you continue to blindly support my plans, no matter how many folks drown in that Middle Eastern quicksand I ordered you into.

Hell, I could order you people to invade Switzerland to liberate the chocolate, and you'd still be shouting that "Hoo-Ha" thing. Why? Because the military conditions you to have a hard-on for glory. You want proud war stories like grandpa had about Dubya Dubya Two, not creepy war crime secrets like crazy Uncle Charlie had about the 'Nam. Which makes sense, because while you may be physically tough as nails, it's a known fact that military egos are more fragile than Michael Jackson's nose.

You know what else cracks me up? You college-hungry, patriotically sentimental grunts are so committed to a three year-old lie that even I don't believe, that you still swear your allegiance to a Commander In Chief who used Daddy's connects to squirm out of combat, who respected the military so much he went AWOL while serving in a champagne unit of pampered flyboys in Alabama, who came into office sneering at the concept of nation-building to the point that he cut all funding for such training, and who doesn't even comprehend that a soldier is fundamentally trained to kill and survive, not perform the lethal police work that this war has turned into. It's a good thing, however, that you boys understand the chain of command and don't shirk your orders.

So keep fighting, and keep believing that we're in Iraq to spread FREEDOM^® and stop September 11th retroactively. Cuz busters, you can wrestle with the ugly truth in ten years or so, when you realize you sold your youth down the river Styx just so that a bunch of brainiacs at the Pentagon can test this thesis: the domino theory can work in reverse, and spread "democracy," which is just another word for "meaningless short term geopolitical gains through awesomely kick-ass mega-violence!"

And so, my assembled killbots, today it's my honor to do or say nothing that might pop the artificial bubble that constitutes military reality, and kick off this monster pep rally, which will leave everyone with just the kind of sky-high morale that's needed to ensure that Operation Iraqi Freedom continues to be such a catastrophic success!

(Cheers.)

You know, some Jewish reporter asked me on the way in today who I was rooting for: Army or Navy? I told him "The United States of America." In other words, "I don't care, so long as they can all still walk well enough to patrol an oil pipeline when it's all over." (Laughs.)

So let's roll!

(The Coin is Tossed.)

Tails!

That's those butt-sniffing Navy boys, of course. (Laughs.)

Play ball!

{Cheers and Applause.}

Thank you, and God Bless America!

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