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            Well, it’s that time again. As we say in my family, “Another speech, another dollar.” The Bible warns us against the sin of pride, so I’m just going to say I am willing to be here. Not proud, but… I’m okay with it. It’s a pretty big building and somebody has to make the speech. I’m your man. Some of you complain that all I do is make speeches! Ha ha ha. To them, I say, look over there to the left, see those pretty young ladies? Those are my daughters Basha and Natasha. See! I made them, too. So once in awhile, yes, I do put my nose to the grindstone. Although the body part in question isn’t actually my nose and it’s not exactly a grindstone.

            Which brings me to every politician’s pride and joy, his wife.

            First let me welcome to this convocation local politician Ernst Stavro Glickman. I’ve known the Glickman for… oh… twenty… twenty-five minutes. We were introduced in the car on the way over here. I told him to tag along. I thought, “Here’s a way to show my contempt for this body of elected officials. I can invite some goofball of a local politician to join us.” What’s that movie about bringing jerks to dinner…? Same concept.

            When my family and I sit down at the dinner table and say grace, we always add a word of thanks for Leo Padurski, Chief of the NSA, America’s protector. He is the jockstrap of America, protecting our vital parts from enemy attack. Thanks, Leo!

            Which brings me to my wife, who is not joining us here tonight at this special occasion. She’s off gallivanting around [dripping with venomous contempt] Europe. I mean, if she was gonna gallivant, why can’t she do her gallivanting right here in the good old U.S.A.? Well, she was deprived as a child. America was not the multi-racial, multi-culti society of today. Little pickaninnies didn’t get to make that all-important summer college trip to Europe. So my wife is making it now. She’s not in college, it’s not summer, but… whatever. She ain’t here.

            Also attending… I could go on, yada yada yada, read from the Manhattan phone book, but you all know who you are. If not, well, hell, introduce yourselves! We’re all family.

            We live in perilous times, so I’ve asked General Hartman, sitting in the third row… See that switch he’s holding? If I start to give away the farm regarding Iran or something, I’ve authorized him to cut off the mike.

            If that happens, please, those of you at home, do not try to adjust your set!

            Now to the nuts and bolts of my speech here tonight in this glorious, historic hall of government. Many of you have hunkered down in your seats, ready for the long haul, the 65-minute speech-a-thon, filled with endless platitudes, vague arguments, warm-hearted assurances, emotionally-charged moments of deep, spiritual confrontation!

            Forget all that.

            My staff has timed this puppy— no offense to my doggie, Butch— and it clocks in at just under 10 big ones. That’s minutes, gentlemen, not hours! I’m not going to get up here and do a Fidel Castro.

            We all know what it’s like to be on the inside, looking out. We’re forced to sit here in the chambers of power, while the Occupy Movement protesters get to have all the fun, flouting the law, smoking dope and engaging in group sex. I’ve read the reports about those encampments! Hopefully— and I’m audacious enough to say this— by next January, this heavy burden will be lifted from my shoulders. Then, I too can take to the road, engaging in book tours and frank discussions everywhere. I look forward to camping out all over this great country of ours. I do not shrink from this challenge, I welcome it!

            This is where we get to the emotional part of my speech. I can’t help but think of the time Walter Cronkite, reporting live on television, wiped the tears from his eyes and soldiered on. Obviously upset, he didn’t let that stop him. I think that was when he announced the resignation of Richard Nixon. That was a very emotional moment, I am sure. President Nixon was the one who said— he said many things, a great memoirist, he recorded hundreds of his conversations— he said, on national television— and I quote— “Meat prices must not go higher.”

            That’s a sentiment with which we can all concur. Even Eric Cantor and the Tea Party should be willing to agree with us on this one little thing, right? That meat prices— metaphorically and otherwise— must not go, you know, higher. We must fight the tendency of our meat to rise… that is, the prices… our meat coming to attention at the sound of the president’s voice. You’ve seen the photos of those troops mobbing me! They love me! But I’m okay with it. The hot button that says, “Revere the presidency,” and all of us getting an erection over that. I know I do! And I’m the president.

            So, in conclusion, and I said we were going to keep this baby under 10 minutes, Jobs, Jobs, Jobs! There! I said it. Steve is no longer with us, a moment of silence for an industrial titan, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Steve Jobs.

            …

            This is a great country! God bless America!

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