Holiday Seasonings 2000

My steamed fellow Amurkins:

This is the time of year when everyone cerebriates Christmas, rejoins in merriment, and puts delicious food on their families. For my part, I would like to thank each and every one of you who voted for me so that I could lose the election and steal it anyway with some help from my little brother, his weird-looking girlfriend Katherine, my dad's cronies, and the good people of the Supreme Court. I even like the black guy on the Supreme Court. He don't talk much, but he's cool with me. Speaking of black people, I'm quite fondle of a few of them. I already installed two into my cabaret -- I mean, my cabinet. When I first heard the name "Condoleezza Rice," I thought it was one of those tasteful Tex-Mex dishes at Chevy's that I like so much. But it turned out to be the name of the only black woman in the whole world who likes me and thinks I have any business being anywhere near the White House. She even said I looked "marvelously presidential" to some guy on TV after my second debate with that loser, Al Gore. And speaking of Al Gore, I kicked his ass!! Who's so smart now, Mr. Lockbox? Mr. "I'm More Intelligiblent Than You!"? Huh?! I can't HEAR you…

Well, I gotta get going. My boss, Dick Cheney, is waiting for me to sign some president-y papers so that we can commiserate the process of handing over your hard-earned money to the rich white people in this great nayshun of ours. If I keep him waiting any longer, he'll prolly have another heart attack. (He's a wuss, what can I say. But Dad says he's very smart, so I gotta do what he tells me to.)

God bless you, and God bless Amurika, the only place in the world where a drunken, coke-snorting, moronic degenerate like myself can rise to the highest orifice in the land.

Subliminably Yours,


P.S.   There's no such thing as "clean-burning coal technology." I just said that in the debates so the EnviroNazis wouldn't get on my case. If it were up to me, I'd execute all of them. Tree-hugging should be a baloney -- I mean, a felony.
P.P.S.   Some people think I don't know words, but I do too. I look things up in the dictionedia all the time. And when I'm trying to impress people with a big word, I look up a cinnamon of a small word in Roget's Stegosaurus. I do too know stuff.
P.P.P.S. In the spirit of my new international duties, I would like send my wishes for a Murky Christmas to the good people of Europe, specifically the Englanders, the Irelanders, the Scotch, the Walesish, the Iceish, the Francians, the Hispanics, the Italics, the Germanes, the Sweaters, the Grecians, the Turkeys, the Vaticans, the Polars, the Norse, the Slobodans, the Ruffians, the South Dakotans, the Milosevics, the Jews, the Betazoids, the Vulcans, the Klingons, the Romulans, and all those who live on the right side of the map that keeps changing every single darn day. Who can keep up with all those changes? I'm too busy watching baseball and seeking out black Republicans.


Copyright © 2000 Mariva H. Aviram. All rights reserved.