Clintons Final State Of The Union Address

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."

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 Johnny Kennedy, who was more than 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. I may be a pervert, but I'm also a
realist. I know that if the economy was going down the crapper, I'd-a
been out on my fat ass after the '96 election. But I'm a lucky
pervert-the economy is hotter than Paula Jones in a leather teddy. So
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.