THE 2003 AFRICA TRIP: RADIO ADDRESS BY THE PRESIDENT RECAPPING HIGHLIGHTS OF HIS BRAVE CAMPAIGN SAFARI TO THE DARK CONTINENT
President´s Weekly Radio Address
THE PRESIDENT: Good morning, and thank you for tuning in. I especially want to thank the tens of fives of you listening on America´s two remaining black-owned radio stations. They´ll be returning to their regular hippity-rap-hop lineup just as soon as this carefully targeted stump speech is over.
Earlier today, Mrs. Bush and I returned from our week-long trip to the nation of Africa, also known as Blackmanistan. It was an incredibly useful and productive trip. We now have more than enough pictures of me with colored folks to last all campaign season long. As such, I´ve directed Mark Racicot to cancel all future Bush/Cheney 2004 events related to that Kwaanza fake-Christmas thing, National Crack Whore Awareness Week, or anything else where I might have to feign the gift of rhythm.
I was very pleased that Secretary of State Colin Powell and National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice were BOTH able to just coincidentally join us for the entire duration of the trip. Boy, when you throw Colin into a crowd of them real nigras, he sure looked white to Laura and me! But the weird thing is, when you get him back here, he looks real colored to us, too! Unfortunately, while Justice Thomas was originally slated to go along, he had to cancel at the last minute due to a severe allergic reaction to himself. Nevertheless, we had many productive meetings with naked, colorful hat-wearing African leaders – even briefly discussing the tempest surrounding my little white lie about Iraq buying uranium from Niger – which, I learned after saying it twelve or fourteen times, is correctly pronounced with a long "i" sound.
It was a fascinating journey. Our first stop was in Goree Island, Senegal, where I was photographed for almost three continuous minutes touring the slave processing station where so many Africans were sold like cattle to the grandpappys of my most generous donors south of the Manson-Nixon Line. Standing there, in a place where literally millions of Africans lost their freedom, I could not help but quietly shed a tear over the terrible injustice of Union Forces brutally imposing their liberal, states-rights-hating will on the Confederacy. Boy, that Mammy sure loved that Scarlet, didn´t she? It is no wonder that my people have such fond affection for the stuff those people do for us.
On this journey I´ve also seen the economic potential of Africa. It´s a vast, hardscrabble landscape filled with charming, ivory-toothed savages with a skinny boobs and a spooky ability to play basketball, hambone, and scrape bubblegum off the floors of marble palaces. In South Africa, I marveled at how much had changed since the days when Laura and I would vacation at Sun City, intent on broadening the girls´ horizons by getting their flawless pink keisters wiped by Negros with sissy British accents. Indeed, Africa´s economic potential is great. Even Reverend Pat Robertson, who spits when he mentions colored folks, owns diamond mines over there. And as TOTAL coincidence would have it, I´m now told that continent is home to gazillions of dollars in untapped oil reserves, too. Who´d have ever thought it?
I must say the food was not at all that Laura and I were expecting. Having grown up in houses with those people staffing the kitchens, we´ve always considered ourselves quite well versed in the ways of darky chow. More than once I´ve washed down a Popeyes Shrimp Po´Boy with a 40 oz. St. Ides or five and a crunchily delicious Zagnut bar. So you can imagine our surprise when the folks in Botswana greeted us with a big platter of "Bush Meat." Well my first instinct was to peek down the front of my dungarees and make sure one of them witch doctors hadn´t gone and spirited away my manhood into some big bubbling cauldron of Hopping John. Well it turns out that Bush Meat isn´t what I thought it was at all. It´s mostly indigenous roadkill like jackall, mongoose, and hyena. Of course, most of it was so covered with blowflies, it could have been Pygmy fetus for all I knew. Tasty stuff, that Bush Meat. Just ask Laura.
Of course, you can´t enjoy a meal when you´re dead, and I hear tell that a whole lot people in Africa are dying of AIDS. Who knew there were so many homos living in one place? Well, like I said, I learned stuff on this trip. And as President, it´s in my interest to appear like I care about the terminally ill poor, without actually curing or feeding any of our domestic unfortunates so that they have the strength to drag themselves to a polling place and vote for a Democrat. So, I had to find me some dying folks that can´t come back to bite me or Jeb in the a**. That´s why I came all the way to this here Africa place. My advisers have asked me to say stuff to minimize the kind of heartbreaking thoughts of AIDS-riddled black baby vulture snacks which can spoil an otherwise splendidly urbane Abercrombie & Kent gourmet safari dinner party. And so it is with great pleasure that I have pledged $15 Billion to that stanky-a**ed nation to combat a scourge they wouldn´t have to be fighting if they’d have given in to Christ instead of using those enormous peckers of theirs to go packing a bunch of HIV-fortified baboon fudge.
Going forward, we believe that the future relationship between Africa and American missionaries and pharmaceutical corporations will be profitable for the latter two. Indeed, flush with all those Federal AIDS dollars, our corporations will selflessly consume this exotic land with evangelical zeal, making the prissy land-grabs by Victorian-era Europeans look like polite games of croquet, and thus preserving Africa´s rich resources and transforming the Serengeti into one bumpin´ fresh Augusta National-managed golf course for the good of all honkydom.
Thank you, and God Bless.
