You're Welcome America: A Final Night With George W. Bush (2009) - full transcript

This is former commander to the
Commander in Chief Dick Cheney

reminding you that there's
no flash photography

and all cell phones,
pagers, electronic devices

should be left on
during the show

so they may be swept up
in our broad,

yet semi-legal net
of intelligence gathering.

Also, because I have
awarded

a no-bid contact
to Halliburton

to operate the restrooms,

toilet paper is now
$15 a sheet.

Enjoy the show



and go fuck yourselves.

So you can come back
and pick me up later?

Thank you.

That was weird.

When the pilots of Marine One
said they were gonna

said they were gonna
drop me off in New York City,

I thought
they were joking.

I said sure.

You know, "While you're at it, why don't you
drop me off in the faggy Theater District?"

And guess what?
They did.

So, uh...
so the joke's on me.

But let me be clear about something.
I'm just kidding, okay?

I don't think
theater's faggy.

Except for "Cats."



And "I Love You, You're
Perfect, Now Change."

Yeah, that one's queer
and Yiddish-y.

You know, if you
want to treat yourself

to just a wonderful night
out at the theater,

just an outstanding show
about pride,

work ethic,

and values,

without any sort
of gay agenda,

go see "Rent."

Laura and I must've seen that
show no less than 80 times.

♪ 525,600 minutes ♪

♪ How do you measure
a year in the life? ♪

That's a little something
from "Rent."

Yeah.

But we're not here tonight
to sing show tunes.

We're here to remember

and cherish,

and celebrate my last eight
years of service to you,

the fine citizens
of this nation

because as of, what,
about seven weeks ago,

I'm now
"George W. Bush,

former President
of the United States."

Thank you.
That's very sweet of you.

That's totally unexpected.

No, it's nice.
Yeah.

Hey, look, here's the deal.
I can't deny what happened

seven weeks ago.

It happened.

It's the Inauguration.

It's the law.

And I'll be honest with you.

I'm a fan of
the Tiger Woods guy.

I, uh...

I like him.

I like him.
He seems like a smart guy.

He's a great speechmaker.

Every time he talks,
it's like Shakespeare

having sex with a
bottle of Courvoisier.

You know?

His words just wash over you

like hot butterscotch pudding,
you know?

It's just like...

"Don't stop."
You know?

But tonight's about me, okay?

This is my farewell,
and...

sure, it's a bit melancholy.

But with every ending
there are new beginnings,

much the same way
the break-up of the Beatles

gave us a far
superior band in Wings...

or the end of "Friends"

gave us "Joey."

Did you just
roll your eyes at me?

You right there in the second row,
you just roll your eyes at me?

This is the third row.
No, I can count.

It's the second row.

See, in the theater the third
row is called the second row.

That's how they do it.

Tell you right now you'd better wipe
that smirk off your face, okay?

I'll have you removed.

It's not a big deal.

You're probably from "The New York
Times." You from "The New York Times"?

No.

Are you Paul Krug?

No.

Are you Thomas J. Friedman?

Are you Maureen O'Dowd?

No.
No, I'm not a woman.

You're not a woman? Is
that what you said? No.

You a comedian?
Are you like a funny guy?

Are you Sinbad?

Are you Penn and Teller?

Watch yourself, okay?

"New York Times."
Give me a break.

Let us pray.

Dear Lord Jesus Christ...

and by "Jesus Christ," I'm
referring to blond, good-looking,

lightly-bearded or
clean-shaven Jesus Christ.

Not hippie-looking Jesus,

or swarthy, more-
middle-eastern-looking Jesus...

who's probably more
historically accurate...

Not that guy.

So dear clean-shaven or...

lightly-beared-
like-Mike-Piazza Jesus...

we give thanks to you
and to everything you do.

Your love and acceptance
washes over all of us

like the warm healing waters

of one of those European toilets
that cleans the inside and out.

I believe it's called
a "bidett".

Dear blond...

almost-Swiss-looking Jesus,

we ask you to allow us to accept
everyone in this theater tonight,

regardless of their
religious beliefs

whether it be
Muslim or Hindu

or Jewish or witchcraft.

Dear sweet-smelling
-of-lavender-

and-Dial-soap Jesus,

bring us together tonight
in solidarity,

and not "separatude."

Dear life-of-the-party,
always-with-a-funny-joke Jesus,

walking around in a cool
pair of Crocs,

holding a can of Diet Slice,

making people wonder
at the party,

"Wait, is there Diet Slice
at the party?"

"No, Jesus
brought his own."

"Oh, 'cause I would
really love some Diet Slice."

"Well, don't talk to me.
Talk to Jesus.

"Seriously, don't embarrass
me in front of Jesus.

"It took him a lot
to come to my party.

"So don't bug him.

"Great. Now he left.
Way to go, man.

He took his Diet Slice
with him."

That Jesus.

Once again, we thank you
for everything you do,

and want to remind everyone
in this theater

that by participating
in this prayer,

they have automatically accepted Jesus
Christ as their lord and savior,

regardless of their
religious beliefs,

they cannot get out of it
no matter what,

retroactive as soon as
I say "Amen." Amen.

So after eight years,
this crazy ride's over.

Can I be honest with you?

I feel as free
as balls in boxers.

Yeah.

I can now do anything I want.

Hell, I might even have
a beer tonight.

Or better yet,
smoke a joint.

Or a "spleef" as they say
in the hip-hop community

Yeah.

Put on a little Common...

or Nas.
Yeah.

Hell, I'm such
a wild card right now,

I might even show
a picture of my penis.

Throw my penis up there.
Go ahead, do it.

Throw it up there.
Come on, now.

That's how unpredictable I am.

If you're sitting there
and you think it didn't happen,

or it was maybe a mirage,

I'll do it again.
Do it again!

Throw it up there again.

That's what you call
"shock and awe" right there.

That's my stimulus package.

That one doesn't
cost you 800 bajillion-

billion-jillion-
Monopoly money dollars.

I asked my
Secret Service guy there, Jerry,

to score me some
sticky green buds tonight

and this is what he delivered.

It's called "Panamanian
Devil's Crotch."

So you know it's good.

You know what else
I found out?

I get Secret Service detail
for the next 10 years.

So for the next 10 years,
I get a guy like Jerry

right here
at my beck and call.

Go ahead, bones it out.

Believe me, that's a bromance
in the making right there.

Clapping for the bromance.
I love it.

So for the next 10 years,

Secret Service has to do
anything I want.

For instance, if I'm at
a Reba McEntire concert...

and I'm too tired
to walk back to the car,

Secret Service has to,
by law,

carry me piggyback

back to the parking lot.

Or if I decide to get
a tattoo on my back

of that scary-looking
Jewish character

from all the "Lord
of the Rings" movies...

What's his name?

Skinny little Jewish guy,
what's his name?

Gollum. Gollum. Yeah.

Gollum. If I decide to get a
tattoo of Gollum on my back...

which I've threatened to do
countless times, yeah...

and I don't got
the money on me,

Secret Service
has to spot me.

And by "spot me,"
I mean,

"give me the money that I
will forget to pay back."

This is all paid for by you,
the taxpayers.

Don't get mad at me. I'm just
benefiting from the system

that's already in place.

It's one of the many perks,
if you will.

So here we are.

Just you and me.

Face to face.

Mano y mano.

I don't know how many of you
are familiar

with a news agency
by the name of CNN.

They came out with a poll
in May of 2008

that states that I'm the most
unpopular president

in modern US history.

71% of Americans

at that time.

That means you guys
in this theater

unless you happen
to be an illegal,

in which I suggest
you leave.

Once again,
wipe that smirk off your face.

Do you hear me?

Do you hear me?

I used to be a cheerleader
at Yale, okay?

They don't just
hand that shit out.

Anyway...

71% of Americans

at that time disapproved
of the job that I was doing.

That's an all-time... well, that's one poll.
That's one poll.

So don't get cocky.

Fox News poll was
exactly the opposite

if you check.

Anyway, 71% of Americans
at that time,

they disapproved
of the job that I was doing.

That's an all-time high
for a disapproval rating.

That's higher than Truman,
higher than Nixon.

Kinda crazy if you ask me.

I mean, hell, they made a movie about
me while I was still president.

Yeah, starring Josh Brolin.

He's a good-looking guy.

That's got to be
good for something.

They could have cast
someone awful like Sean Penn...

or Diego Luna.

You gotta understand,
no president's perfect,

but almost 3/4 of the country
not liking me?

I can't accept that.

Diego Luna.

So before you make up your mind,

before the powers that be

close up the "anals"
of history...

hear me out,

and get to know the man.

I was born July 6th, 1946

in New Haven, Connecticut.

I'm the firstborn child

of George Herbert
Walker Bush

and Barbara "Scary Lady" Bush.

I got three younger
brothers and a sister.

We're a tight-knit family.

We like to goof off,
joke around,

have a good time.

Brother Jeb,

he used to be governor
of Florida.

Brother Neil,

he did some savings and loan
stuff back in the '80s.

And brother Marvin...

and sister Dorothy...

are great.

They do things too.

Like I was saying,
we're a tight-knit unit.

I've said this before
and I'll say it again.

Families is where
our nation finds hope,

where wings take dream.

Think about that
for a second.

Where wings...

take dream.

It's a pretty
powerful statement.

I grew up mostly
in the Midland

and Houston areas of Texas.

We got any folks here
from Texas tonight?

You know, it's funny.

People who meet me
say they see a certain swagger.

Well, in Texas,
that's called walking.

Where in Texas you from? Dallas!

Dallas?

A lot of peop...

What was the other one?

Houston? A lot of good
cocaine in Houston.

Gets hot there in the summertime
though, doesn't it? Yeah.

They got good Tex-Mex,
though, right?

Yeah.
Real good to have you here.

Anyway...

Midland is not
like New York.

It's a lot more
gradual lifestyle,

but in looking back,

it was the perfect place
for wings to take dream.

I was a...

I was a simple, normal kid.

I liked to do
simple, normal things.

Like shoot wrist rockets
at a stray cat

strapped to
a propane tank.

Just basic mischief,
you know?

This one time,
we shot up a sleeping hobo

full of Novocaine

and then we'd yell
"Pie on a windowsill,"

and they'd wake up
all numb and poor

and...

and we'd laugh.

But that's just the type of stuff
you do growing up in Midland.,

when you're a young,
precocious little 30-year-old.

Hey, but let it be known
here and now,

I'm a Texan through
and through,

a Texan who was born
in Connecticut,

went to boarding school
in Massachusetts,

and college at Yale
and Harvard.

I would've gone to the University
of Texas for law school,

but there was
one small issue.

I was not accepted.

My time at Yale was great.

It was very formative.

I received a Bachelor's Degree
in history,

and my nickname
was "Gin and Tonic."

While at Yale, I was a
member of a secret society

called
the Skull and Bones,

which I used to call
"Skull and Boners."

The guys thought that was
funny for about a month.

Then they asked me
to please stop.

But I didn't

'cause I'm tenacious.

The society is so secret,
I have to stop talking about it.

I can't tell you
anything more about it.

Okay, I'll tell you one thing,

but it does not leave
the theater, okay?

During the intense
initiation period,

you have to divulge
all your sexual exploits

to your potential
fellow brothers.

I revealed to the group

how I'd just participated
in my first threesome

with two hot Latina women.

And a guy named
Dave Rothschild.

What I didn't realize was
this was actually a four-way.

I always thought a threesome
was three people plus yourself.

Yeah, we all had
a good laugh about that.

Then someone said,
"Seriously though,

"why was another guy there
in the first place?"

And I explained how
he wasn't there at first.

At first, it was just me
and the two hot Latina women,

gettin' at it.

And I mean getting at it.

There was muff
flying everywhere.

I'm talking
knee-deep in muff.

Had to get
your muff-waders on.

You know what I mean?

You would not
know what I mean.

Needless to say, there was
a high volume of muff.

Is there anyone at this point
of the story who's confused

as to how much muff
there was?

'Cause I can keep going
with the analogies.

Okay, you know
the Great Wall of China?

Imagine that's made
entirely of muff.

You know those water cannons
that riot police shoot

to hose down crowds?

Imagine the only thing
coming out is liquid muff...

at like 3,000
pounds per second.

Yeah.

We got it covered?

Okay. Muff said.

Anyway, I look up and there's
this guy standing there.

He says,
"Hi, I'm Dave Rothschild."

I'm like,
"Do I know you, Dave?"

He's like, "No,
I don't think so."

I'm like,
"Do you go to Yale?"

He's like,
"No, I'm from out of town.

I just got off a bus
from Denver."

Well, anyway, I didn't
want to lose momentum,

so I got back into the flow.

Next thing you know,

Dave Rothschild makes
a pretty seamless transition

into the group...

and something special
is happening.

Two hours later,

I didn't know where our four
bodies end and where they begin.

It was like
the "Kama Sutra"

combined with
the power of The Hulk

at a Dave Matthews concert.

In other words,
it just felt right.

Let me fast forward to my time
in the Air National Guard.

Between 1972 and 1973,

there's a little blip
on my record.

By blip, I mean lack
of documentation

that I was ever
even around.

Those in the media
have claimed that I went AWOL.

Well, I just want to say

here for the first time tonight,

yes.

I was indeed AWOL.

I was living in Vermont
with Dave Rothschild.

It was a wonderful period
of exploration in my life.

Dave and I would go
on long walks in the woods,

write poetry
to each other.

I'd express my fear
of going to the Vietnam War

and Dave would validate
those fears.

Ours was a relationship
of trust

and male spirit.

Although it was never sexual,

we weren't afraid
to cry in each other's arms,

or give each other

western-grip hand jobs.

See, that's a normal
hand job right here.

This is western-grip
right here.

You getting that all the way
up at the top there?

Can you see that?

The thumb remains
unencumbered

for exploring.

Diego Luna.

Dave Rothschild
and his massive 6'6" frame

and long, jet-black hair

was my salvation.

There you have it.

That's my big secret.

By the way, none of this
leaves the theater, okay?

I could get kicked out of the
Skull and Bones forever.

So after my time in Vermont
with Dave Rothschild,

here's what happened.

I met my wife Laura.
We had twins.

I ran for Congress.
I lost.

I started an energy
exploration company.

It went bankrupt.

But I sold all my stock
right before that happened,

which some people
said was illegal.

Then my dad became
president and guess what?

Criminal investigation
of my stock sale

just went away.
Ha ha!

By then, I owned part
of the Texas Rangers.

I then sold my part,
got a nifty $15 million return

on my initial
$800,000 investment.

I then became
governor of Texas.

I'm the first governor
in Texas state history

to be elected
to two consecutive terms.

As governor,
my highlights included

reinstating a bill

that allowed for citizens
to carry

concealed weapons
into churches,

nursing homes,

and amusement parks.

There are more executions
in my state

than any other state
in the union.

And on June 10th, 2000,

I proclaimed it
to be Jesus Day in Texas.

Now how many other
states had a Jesus day?

I'll tell you.

None.

♪ Satan is real ♪

♪ Working in spirit ♪

♪ He can tempt you
and lead you astray ♪

We are applying
the Bush doctrine.

Any statement
I did or did not make

or would or would not make...

Senator, welcome to our...

I don't have any recollection
or awareness of that.

Is there anything of yours that we
could keep as a memento of this visit?

Take California.

Fear...
The decisive leadership

of President
George W. Bush.

I love it out here
on our ranch in Crawford.

The rich smell
of sage and mesquite

fills up your lungs
when you wake up in the morning.

Sometimes it fills up
your lungs so much

you start to feel nauseous,

and you get
splitting headaches

and you realize it's not
the mesquite you're inhaling,

but exhaust fumes from the leaf
blower that you've had on your back

that you left running
for over an hour.

This is my sanctuary.

Working the land.

Repairing fences.

Stacking rocks.

I know every little
trail out here.

Ow.

Every little arroyo in
this sliver of God's country.

Shh, shh, shh, shh.

I'm trying to track
a wild sage hen.

Ah, fuck,
it's not working.

Like I was saying, I know this
land like the back of my hand.

And heck, I should.

I established a record
for most vacation days

taken by a president.

40%... yeah.

40% of my time in office

was spent at one presidential
retreat or another.

I'm proud of that record.

During that time,
I watched "Carlito's Way"

over 800 times.

Mmm.

It's true.

This ranch means
so much to me and Laura.

Nothing's more American

or therapeutic
in my opinion

than obsessively
clearing brush.

Oh hell,
who are we kidding?

We're hoping
to sell this place by June.

Karl Rove made me buy it

back in '99 to seem
more folksy.

But can I be honest with you? I don't
know what the fuck I'm doing out here.

I almost got lockjaw
three different times

from cutting myself
on rusted barbwire.

It's a hot, dusty,

heatstroke-inducing
hellhole out here.

We're so excited

now that we're moved into our
whites-only community in Dallas

where I can
pay immigrants

to clear my brush
for me...

the way God intended.

Here's the other thing
that used to piss me off.

None of the families would
ever come visit us out here.

I'd be like,
"Hey, Mom,

Dad, Jeb, why don't we have
Thanksgiving at Crawford this year?"

"Oh, we'd love to, but...

Kennebunkport.
It's a tradition."

"Oh really?

"Well, Maine can
blow me, okay?

"While you guys are sitting
around opening Christmas presents

"under a beautiful blanket
of New England snowfall,

"I can't even go outside

'cause it's 119 degrees."

One time I did convince
all the families

to come here
at Easter.

I took all the Bush men...
Dad, Jeb,

Neil, Marvin,

on a tour of an old
abandoned mineshaft

I found on the outskirts
of the ranch.

It was fun.

All the Bush guys
reminiscing,

clowning around

in an old abandoned mineshaft,

when wouldn't you know it?
It collapsed on us.

We'd be trapped
for three days

and the whole while
my dad's up my ass,

saying things like,
"God damn it, George,

did you test the shaft
to see if it was safe?"

I'm like, "No, of course not.

"It's just an
abandoned mineshaft.

"You just go climb
around in it.

"Besides, I thought
you'd like it

'cause it's historical."

Jeb's like, "Everyone shut up.
We gotta conserve oxygen."

I'm like,
"I don't give a shit.

"God's got a plan for me.

If this is the way I go,
then this is the way I go."

Then my dad's like,
"Gimme a fuckin' break!

Did you tell anyone
where we were going?"

I'm like, "No, I didn't!

I only thought
we'd be gone an hour."

He's like,
"You gotta be kidding me."

All of a sudden Marvin
started screaming,

"I crushed my maid
with a car!"

And then Neil started yelling,

"I once had sex with
30 Thai hookers at once!"

Jeb's like, "I'm being serious.
Let's conserve oxygen."

I'm like, "Enough with
the damn oxygen!"

Then my dad's like, "Why are you
the only one in this family

"that speaks with
a Texas accent?

It makes no sense!"

I'm like, "Do I?
Do I have an accent?

'Cause if I do,
I can't hear it."

And just then as my dad
was about to lunge for my neck,

we heard some rocks moving.

Outside was my mom,
all ripped and muscular,

throwing boulders away from
the opening of the mineshaft.

She then pulled us out
one by one

and placed us on a cart

and then pulled the cart

like a powerful draft horse.

All the way back home

her deltoids twitching,

her loins covered
in a milky white froth.

It was one of the most gross
and impressive things

I'd ever seen.

I was crying and barfing

all at the same time.

You know what they say?

Whatever doesn't kill you
just makes you stronger.

Sometimes, however,

the thing that
almost killed you

probably just
should've killed you.

You know...

you just feel more scared
as a result.

Anyway...

They'll be here at the Crawford
Ranch in November of 2000

when we wait
for the election returns

of my first
presidential campaign.

I remember that night
was extremely frustrating

partly because the information
kept changing all the time

and partly because there was
literally nothing

to watch on TV.

Except stupid
election coverage.

You know?

Not even a break to watch
"Dog the Bounty Hunter."

Nothing.

There was so much back and
forth, it made my head spin.

First exit polling
in the liberal news media

was saying that Gore
had won Florida.

Then they said
it went back to undecided.

Then they said
that I had won

and Gore is calling me
to congratulate me.

"Guess what, Al?
I'm gonna celebrate

"by shooting off these M80s

I got on my last trip
to Juarez."

He's like,
"I beg your pardon?"

I'm like, "Nerd,"
and hung up the phone.

Then they said,
"Hold on, hold on.

Don't shoot off the M80s yet,"

which I'd already taped
to a "Hellboy" action figure.

Now it's within 2,000 votes.
I'm like, "Well, hell,

I'm going to bed.
It's 4:00 in the morning."

Then they said,
"Gore's calling again."

I'm like, "What's his deal?"

He said this time
he's calling

to take back
his concession

'cause it's too
close to call.

They're doing
a statewide recall.

I'm like,
"You can't take it back."

He's like, "Yes, I can."

I'm like, "No, you can't."

He's like, "Says who?"

I paused
and I thought real hard.

Then I said, "The Geneva
Convention, that's who,"

and I hung up
the phone again.

Turns out I was wrong.

The Geneva Convention

pertains more to the laws

that will govern the moon
once it's colonized.

But, uh...

it sure felt good
in the moment.

So for one month,

all this BS goes on
back and forth.

Then all of a sudden
it stopped.

December 12, 2000.

United States Supreme Court

ruled 7-2

that the Florida
Supreme Court's plan

to recount the ballots
was unconstitutional,

as well as a 5-4 decision

that ended the recount.

And allowed Florida
to certify its vote.

I was...

I was down
in the basement

playing with
baseball cards

when Rove
gave me the news.

He said,
"Excuse me, Mr. President,

but we're going
to Washington."

I paused, wondering
who he was talking to.

Then for a moment,

I contemplated the odds
of President Clinton

somehow sneaking
into my basement...

and hiding behind me.

Slowly I turned around
to make sure

that wasn't who
Rove was talking to.

Then all of a sudden,
it hit home.

He was talking to me.

"You're talking to me,
aren't you?"

"I sure am," Rove said.

"Holy shit.
We're going to Washington."

Rove just smiled

and we exchanged an awkward
white-guy high five.

This was the big time!

♪ You had to be
a big shot, didn't you? ♪

♪ You had to prove it
to the crowd ♪

♪ You had to be
a big shot, didn't you? ♪

Things are going pretty well.

W-What, what, what?
What, what?

W-W-W-W... What, what?

In the war on terror,

we will always
seek cooperation

from our allies
around the world.

Enhanced interrogation
techniques.

Yeah.

All right.

Yo. Yo, yo, yo!
Yo, yo!

MC Folke!

M-M-M-MC Folke!

Ladies and gentlemen,

please rise
for the 43rd president

of the United States
of America,

George W. Bush.

Thanks for your support.

Tell your dad I say hi.

Too slow.

How's your wife doing?
She good?

Oh my God,
I didn't even see you there.

Did you lose weight?

No?
You need to.

So I got the job, cool.

Didn't expect
to get it in a way,

and if I'm being
totally truthful,

I remember sitting here,
thinking,

"Shit, I actually
have to do this now."

Here's the thing,

no one tells you
when you become president,

you hit the ground running.

And I mean, hauling ass.

Mr. President, did you have
a chance to look at the PDP?

Mr. President, you have
a 10:00 with the NSA.

Can you meet with the Joint
Chiefs at some point?

DOD needs to get you
to sign off on this.

Hi, Mr. President. Bob Galligan
from Halliburton. Hi, Bob.

Ken Lay from Enron is waiting
for you, Mr. President.

Mr. President, the CIA is
certain that Freddy Krueger

is a fictional character
and poses no threat.

- EPA. NORAD.
- DOW CHEMICALS.

Health and Human Services.
His excellency...

Patriot Act.
Diego Luna.

WHO.
WTC.

UN Security Council.
CIA. FDA.

GEO. IFC.
PBS.

No Child Left Behind.

OSHA. INS. NLG.
FBI.

You see how annoying
that can be?

Especially when you have
no idea of what you're doing?

But in my defense,

who in their right mind
would have any idea

what the job
of being president entails?

Would you?

Would you?

I would! Would you? Oh,
you're full of shit.

You know what, Jerry?
Kick this guy out.

You've been up my...
you son of a bitch!

Screw you, motherfucker!

Hey, fuck you, asshole!

I was the leader of the
free world, dipshit!

You got to accept that.

I'm a guy you wanted
to have a beer with.

You cocksucker!

Fuck you.
Hey, fuck you!

Fuck you!
Hey, I want my 401k back!

I want my 401k back.
I lost like 1,000 bucks!

Take him out there
and waterboard him, Jerry!

And don't tell me
it's torture.

I've had it done.
I find it relaxing.

It's a spa treatment
at Bliss!

Look it up.

No shit, Sherlock.

This guy right here.

I have the launch codes.

This phone.

If it rang,

and believe me, no president
wants it to ring,

I had to pick it up,

make the call,

whether or not it was go time.

7,982 deployed warheads

ready to go
if I said so.

No holds barred.

Let the big dogs hunt.

Take no prisoners.

Every dog has his day.

Our child is an honor student.

If this van's a-rockin',
don't come a-knockin'.

Anyways...

you get the idea.
Luckily, this phone's a prop.

But that's a scenario

no president ever wants
to have to deal with.

Right here?

This is the phone
that I used.

I got every important
world leader

and their secret telephone
numbers on this baby.

Actually, this is
a replacement phone.

I dropped the original one

in a toilet at
the Beijing Olympics, and...

believe me, it was unusable.

I got all the leaders
of the G8 on here.

Stephen Harper
from Canada.

Nicolas Sarkozy.
France.

Angela Merkel.

German chancellor.

She holds all her tension
in her neck.

Silvio Berlusconi.
Italy.

Yeah. Great guy. I
call him "Shoes"

'cause he wears very fine
expensive Italian leather shoes.

Yasuo Fukuda.
Japan.

First three times I met him,

I thought he was Daisuke
from the Red Sox.

Turns out I was wrong.

These are just coming off
the top of my head.

Dmitry Medvedev.
Russia.

Gordon Brown.
Great Britain.

One of our
staunchest allies.

José Luis Zapatero.

From Spain.

Except they say it
with a lisp.

José Luis Zapatero.

From Barcelona.

"Vicky Cristina Barcelona."

"Let's go get sangria...

"and tapas...

"and go see
'Vicky Cristina Barcelona.'

Oh my God,
this sangria is so delicious."

"I know, I love it.

It keeps you light
on your feet."

"Excuse me, I was eavesdropping
on your conversation.

Were you talking about
'Vicky Cristina Barcelona'?"

"Yes, we were.
Did you like it?"

"I loved it.
I love Penélope Cruz."

Can I be honest with you?
I'm addicted to talking that way.

It's fun.
Yeah.

You'll probably be doing it
on the car ride home.

Maybe not.
I don't know.

I'm not a mind reader.

List goes on and on, man.

You know, I miss my phone.

I miss a lot of things
about being president.

But mostly, I, uh...

I miss the people,

the fine men and women
that I served with.

My Cabinet.

My road dawgs.

My posse.

In some ways,

I thought were
just getting started.

♪ We've only just begun... ♪

It all began with my VP.

Dick Cheney.

Some say the most
powerful president...

I mean, vice president,

in US history.

A guy so charismatic,

he could shoot a man
in the face with a shotgun...

and have that guy
apologize to him.

Think about that.

That's some real Clint Eastwood
shit right there, you know?

Yes, one time,
I did walk in on Dick Cheney

down in the basement
of the White House

and he was being fucked
by a giant goat devil...

in a room full of pentagrams.

He looked up at me with solid
silver glowing orb-like eyes

and his breath had a strong
ammonia scent to it.

And he told me in a language
that I knew in my heart

had not been spoken
in over a thousand years...

I just ran. I just got
the hell out of there.

Other than that,
he's a real stand-up guy.

Rummy!
Oh my God, I love this guy!

Funny?
You don't even know!

I remember
the day after 9/11,

he said, "Let's bomb Iraq 'cause
they got all the good targets."

Isn't that funny?

Secretary of State
Colin Powell.

Tried to tell us
Iraq was a bad idea.

Tried to tell us suspension
of habeas corpus was a bad idea.

Said to me,

"You break it, you own it."

Then he still went along
with us, God love him.

I don't know
who that guy is.

I don't know who
that guy is.

White House
Chief of Staff Andy Card.

A guy so dedicated,

his wife once asked him,

"Hey, are you married to me,
or George W. Bush?"

I always got
a kick out of that

'cause he was not
married to me,

nor was that
ever even discussed.

Secretary of Treasury
Paul O'Neill.

He called my economic
policies irresponsible.

Said I was unquestioning
and uncurious.

Paul didn't last long.

Attorney General
John Ashcroft.

He lost to a dead guy

in the 2000 Missouri
Senate race.

So we thought,
"He's free. Let's bring him on."

Mi hermano Alberto Gonzales.

Oh my God,
this guy's so going to jail.

Gale Norton.
Secretary of the Interior.

Mining advocate.

Elaine Chao.
Secretary of Labor.

My little Asian spitfire.

Tommy Thompson. Secretary of
Health and Human Services.

Great Gin player

and has funny jokes
about Jews.

Wolfy,
the man with the plan!

John Bolton.
Nice mustache!

Richard Perle.

His fondest dream is to
one day become a woman.

That's my penis.
That shouldn't be in there.

And there he is...

The Architect.

Karl Rove.

Or as I used to call him,
Turd Blossom.

What can you say
about this guy?

Swiftboat?
Outing CIA agents?

Avoiding subpoenas?

Mark Fuller, Jack
Abramoff, Jeff Gannon,

rigging elections, privatization
of Social Security,

you name it.

This guy's a genius.

I miss my Cabinet.

They're a great group of folks,

and I think you could tell
from their pictures

they were just fun
to hang out with.

Especially little Richie Perle.

Can we throw his picture
back up there?

Look at that little cuddle bear.

You tickle him
underneath that jowl,

he'll laugh like a hyena
for an hour.

I just wanted to put him
in a big man-sized diaper

and carry him around
in a BabyBjorn...

and feed him Cheerios
and tickle his jowl.

"Come on, Richie.

"Let's get you down
for your nap.

"Oh, you want more Cheerios?
Here you go.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle.

Bye, Richie.
Bye."

You know,
there's one gal, I, uh...

I left off the list,

'cause it's still
too painful to bring up.

I thought I'd be
over her by now, but I'm not.

We used to sit around and talk
about our hopes and our dreams.

She's the only one I'd stay up
past 10:00 at night to talk to.

Don't get me wrong.
I love my wife,

but this one was special.

What we had
was something animal.

Something crazy.

Something raw.

♪ I keep forgettin'
we're not in love any more ♪

♪ I keep forgettin' things
will never be the same again ♪

♪ I keep forgettin'
how you made that so clear ♪

♪ I keep forgettin' it all ♪

♪ Every time I hear ♪

♪ How you never
want to live a lie ♪

♪ How it's gone too far ♪

♪ And you don't have
to tell me why ♪

♪ Why you're gone ♪

♪ And why the game
is through ♪

♪ If this is what's real ♪

♪ If this is what's true ♪

♪ Tell me how come ♪

♪ I keep forgettin'
we're not in love any more ♪

♪ Baby ♪

♪ I keep forgettin' things
will never be the same again ♪

♪ I keep forgettin'
how you made that so clear ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah, baby ♪

♪ Don't say that, don't say
that, don't say that ♪

♪ I know you're not mine
anymore ♪

♪ Anyway, anytime ♪

♪ Tell me how come ♪

♪ I keep forgettin'
we're not in love anymore ♪

♪ How come? ♪

♪ I keep forgettin' things
will never be the same again ♪

♪ I keep forgettin'
how you made that so clear ♪

♪ I keep forgetting... ♪

Condi was my rock.

I miss her dearly.

My little San Francisco treat.

My little Rice-a-roni.

Mmn.

You know, one of my legacies
as president I'm most proud of

is my great love of reading.

There's a pretty good chance I'm probably
gonna be known as the Reading President

or the Great Reader.

I think I've shown
over the last eight years

I love reading
many different things,

from Camus

to Danielle Steele,

to a book I've read
no less than 200 times...

"He's Just Not
That Into You."

That really helped me with
my relationship with Putin.

Right here is probably
the book I'll be most known for.

Within it is the story
of "The Pet Goat."

"The Pet Goat" is the story of a girl's pet
goat that eats everything in its path.

The girl's parents want
to give the goat away,

but she defends it.

Ultimately, the goat
becomes a hero

when it butts a car robber
into submission.

A mere eight months into my
presidency on September 11th,

I'm interrupted
from reading

one of the more
fascinating stories

I've ever come across

with news that the world
as we know it has gone cuckoo.

So stunned was I

by the news of the day's events,

combined with the power
of the narrative

found in "The Pet Goat"

that I just sat there

in silence

for over seven minutes.

♪ The way you shake it ♪

♪ I can't believe it ♪

♪ I ain't never seen an
ass like that ♪

♪ The way you move it ♪

♪ You make my peepee go ♪

♪ Da-doing-doing-doing ♪

♪ I don't believe it ♪

♪ It's almost too good
to be true ♪

♪ I ain't never seen
an ass like that ♪

♪ The way you move it ♪

♪ You make my peepee go ♪

♪ Da-doing-doing-doing ♪

♪ The way she moves,
she's like a belly dancer ♪

♪ Shaking that ass
to the new Nelly jams ♪

♪ I think someone's at the door,
but I don't think I'ma answer ♪

♪ Police saying, "Freeze!" ♪
♪ Oh! ♪

♪ Da-doing-doing-doing ♪

♪ What do you mean "freeze"? Please,
I'm a human being I have needs ♪

♪ I'm not done, not till
I've finished peeing ♪

♪ I am not resisting arrest,
I am agreeing, Mr. Officer ♪

♪ I'm already on my knees,
I can't get on the ground ♪

This is by far one of my
favorite pieces of clothing.

I'll never forget the look
on Tony Blair's face

when I met him for the
first time at Camp David.

I walked into the room

wearing this kickass

custom made
leather bomber's jacket.

He was wearing
some dumb sweater.

I just looked at him. I said,
"How do you like me now?"

He said,
"I beg your pardon?"

You know,
all Britishy and shit.

We just stood there
looking at each other.

In silence.

For a long time,
I might add.

I can remember thinking,

"I'm not talking first.

"He's gonna have to talk first.

"This is my house.

This is my Camp David."

Finally, he said,
"Well, Mr. President,

it is an honor
to be your guest,"

and I just yelled,
"I win."

I remember the first time
I sat down with Tony Blair

to discuss what
we had in common

and it was awkward at first.

Then I thought I'd break
the ice by saying,

"At least we both
speak English."

And...

and Tony laughed.

But I laughed
much harder.

That was
the turning point.

That was the ice breaker
where I thought,

"Hey, I can trust
this turkey.

He's my amigo."

Believe me, I quickly found out
I would need his counsel.

As you all know,
the events of 9/11

would throw the nation
into a tizzy.

As I sat alone
with my thoughts

in my private chambers,

much like the Batman,

I can
remember thinking

that the nation
needed a leader

who could make important
decisions and make them quickly.

It was then
that I became...

The Decider.

I pictured myself
as a super advanced robot

named Decision-Maker 2230k.

Yes, for one-half of
an entire Cabinet meeting,

I did speak
with a robot voice.

Good afternoon.

I am Decision Maker 2230k.

Do not fear me.

I make decisions
with great alacrity.

Also, I have lasers
that shoot out of my eyeballs.

My stomach is
a microwave oven.

Right now, I'm cooking up
some Jeno's Pizza Rolls.

Oh my God,
they smell delicious.

Then everything went dark.

I awoke on the floor
of the Cabinet Room

with an ice pack
taped to my head.

Turns out Cheney had shot me
with a tranquilizer gun.

I would be unconscious
for three-and-a-half hours,

but when I came to,

I was informed that we had
a very productive meeting.

We had gleaned
from exhaustive intelligence,

massive man hours on the ground
and in the skies above

that Al-Qaeda was the source
of these 9/11 attacks.

We also gained knowledge

from the previous
administration's

counter-terrorism expert,

Richard Clarke,

who had told us
point-blank

a month before it happened

that it would probably happen,

and that Al-Qaeda would do it.
So that was helpful too.

Then we started
looking for evidence

linking Al-Qaeda to Iraq,

and we kept looking

and looking,

and looking,

and looking.

The CIA looked back 10 years in
their records and found nothing.

Cheney thought he'd help out

by setting up his own
intelligence agency

in a broom closet
at the Pentagon.

Then bingo, we found it.

Evidence from one witness

no one had ever heard of before

without any other backup

that Iraq was trying to get
yellow-cake uranium

through the country of... and I always
have trouble with this pronunciation...

Ni... "Ni-gard."

"Ni-jer."

"Ni-jere."
"Ni-jere."

Whoo!

I tell you right now,
you mispronounce that one,

you find yourself
in a world of trouble.

You know what I mean?
Yeah.

You do not want
to be that guy, trust me.

So...

I mean, you don't.
I'm not just saying that.

Yeah.

I'm giving you advice
right now.

So when I first
heard "yellow cake,"

I was like, "Yum! Whose
birthday is it?"

Then everybody switched
to their serious voices

and started yelling,
"Yellow-cake uranium, damn it!

"Please listen!

"For once, just listen.

"That's all you have to do,
is sit there and listen!

"We do all the work!

"You don't have to do anything
but sit there and listen.

That's all you have to do."

Which, by that point,
I'd stopped listening again.

'Cause I had a mean game of
Brick Breaker going on my Treo.

So...

just to refresh...

just to refresh...

yellow-cake uranium
goes through "Nigger"

to Iraq,
and here's the best part...

here's the best part.

Hold on, here's the best part.

Here's how we get the story out
to the American public.

A quote-unquote
anonymous White House source,

basically us,

Cheney, Rummy, Condi, whoever.

We speak to all
the major media outlets,

like "The New York
Suck-My-Dick Times."

Then Judy Miller and J-bomb
would write up the story

and the same people
who planted the story

Cheney, Rummy, Condi, etcetera,

would go on all the news shows
like "Meet the Press,"

"This Week in Washington,"

"The View,"

and hold up the story
that they planted

and say, "Wow,
look what 'The Times' says."

Pretty good plan, huh?

Yeah.

Slowly,
our case was made.

Except there was
one last hitch.

Most of the world...

thought we were crazy.

Especially France.

You know what? Who gives
a shit about France?

Right?

France is a bunch of pussies
and dick-grabbers.

What's so great
about France?

How many people have ever
even been to France?

See?
No one.

If you recall, we played
some real diplomatic hardball

with the French.
This is what we did.

In the cafeteria at Congress...

we renamed French Fries

"Freedom Fries."

Oh, burn!

When I heard that, I thought it was one
of the coolest things I'd ever heard.

I tried to get French
kissing renamed

to We-Saved-Your-Asses-
in-World-War-II kissing.

It didn't catch on.

You know what's funny?

Turns out
none of it mattered.

Despite concerns
of our NATO allies,

despite anti-war protests

in every major city
in America

including one million people
here in New York,

on March 20th, 2003,

Operation Iraqi Freedom
was launched.

By April 9th,

it was done.

People tore down a massive
statue of Saddam Hussein

ending his 24-year rule
of that country.

People were dancing
in the streets.

We were dancing
in the Oval Office.

I was King Shit
of Turd Mountain.

♪ It's my life ♪

♪ It's now or never ♪

♪ I ain't gonna
live forever ♪

♪ Don't be fronting
with the bass phenomenon ♪

♪ Don't be fronting
with the bass phenomenon ♪

♪ Don't be fronting
with the bass phenomenon ♪

♪ Bass phenomenon,
bass phenomenon ♪

♪ Don't be fronting
with the bass phenomenon ♪

♪ Bass phenomenon ♪

♪ Bass phenomenon ♪

♪ Bass phenomenon ♪

♪ Bass phenomenon, bass
phenomenon, bass phenomenon ♪

♪ Don't be fronting
with the bass phenomenon ♪

♪ Don't be fronting
with the bass phenomenon ♪

♪ Don't be fronting
with the bass phenomenon ♪

♪ Bass phenomenon,
bass phenomenon ♪

♪ Don't be fronting with
the bass phenom... ♪

Remember this outfit?

Remember this moment?

Landing on a carrier
in a jet fighter plane?

"Highway to the Danger Zone"

playing in my helmet.

Setting foot on the deck
of the USS Abraham Lincoln

to announce that major
combat operations in Iraq

were over.

It truly was...

"mission accomplished."

Even though...

Ow.

Even though...

98.3% of all casualties

including civilians

have occurred after
that speech was made.

Those in the media
criticized it

as a theatrical
and expensive stunt.

We tried to explain
how I had to fly on a jet

'cause the carrier was too far
away for a helicopter to fly.

Then somebody pointed out
that the carrier

was only 30 miles
off the coast of San Diego.

We said, "Oh, that's
much closer than we thought."

So that day

and this banner

became a symbol
to a lot of people

that we were out of touch
with the war

and what was going on
in Iraq...

and I respectfully disagree.

I mean, sure some things
didn't go as planned,

like the absence of a plan
for anything

once we were
inside the country.

Oops.

We also didn't know that the guy
we'd place in power over there,

"Achmed" Chalibi,

would turn out to be
a total douchebag.

Maybe Paul Bremer's
disbanding the army

and all law enforcement
was a bad idea.

Maybe only having
162,000 troops

when our generals said we
needed 400,000 was a bad idea.

I do know this.

Removing Saddam Hussein
from power

was the right decision
early in my presidency,

it is the right
decision now,

and it will be
the right decision ever.

We were also able
to unite the world

in an outstanding
coalition of the willing.

Great nations with
rich military traditions

like Poland...

Honduras...

El Salvador...

Denmark...

and Azar Bazhan.

Brave, brave countries

like Palau,

Costa Rica,

and the Solomon Islands,

who joined the coalition
without any regard

for the fact that they
don't even have an army.

That alone put a lump
in my throat.

Then of course,
there was Morocco

who pledged to send
2,000 trained monkeys

to detonate land mines

and perform
at children's parties.

Then there seemed to be questions
whether or not Morocco had the monkeys,

and I said, "Regardless of
whether they have them or not,

that sounds cool as shit
and I want that."

A special unit

of 2,000 trained monkeys

that we could send
anywhere in the world

to fight evil

and make children laugh?

Duh!

Despite vigorous protests
from my Cabinet,

I put into motion Operation
Primate Speargun.

For one year,

a special unit
of 2,000 wild monkeys

trained side by side
with the 82nd Airborne

down at Fort Bragg

in total secrecy.

In order to ensure
a maximum covert operation,

most of the training
was done at night.

I was heavily invested
in the unit.

I'd often fly down
to participate

in field exercises.

One of the things I noticed
during the exercises

was that many of the monkeys would
just simply run off into the woods...

randomly shooting
their spearguns

at each other
or inanimate objects.

And...

So I asked my field commanders,

I said, "How often
had this been happening?"

They said that
this type of thing

had happened
every single time.

So then I asked
a tough question.

"Why do you think
it's happening?"

The major said
that his guess

was because they were
wild monkeys...

and that they as soldiers

didn't have
the proper training

to work with them.

So I looked at him
right in the eye and said,

"But we're gonna
get there, right?"

He said,
"I doubt it, sir."

I said, "Well, hold on,
let me ask you this...

Are they at least
entertaining the children?"

He said he'd have
no idea of knowing,

but that his guess
would be no...

considering it was
a top-secret operation

and no one knew
the monkeys were there.

Especially the children.

At the end of exercises,
all but 40 monkeys

had run off into
the North Carolina woods.

Speargun attacks along
the I-95 corridor

have increased 1,000%

in that time.

So...

let me just tell you this...

if you're planning a car trip
down to Disney World,

don't stop
at the rest stops, okay?

'Cause there's a 50/50 chance

a malnourished monkey's

gonna pop up out of a toilet

and shoot you in the face
with a spear gun.

You know what?
I could give a shit.

It's the Tiger Woods
guy's problem now.

True story.

I still think
under the right circumstances,

it would've worked.

I will...

I will always
think of myself

as a wartime president.

And yes, I am aware

of the criticisms

that have been
thrown my way

for my decision to go into Iraq.

It will...

It will ultimately
define my presidency.

I've been asked,

knowing what
we know now,

would we have...

would we have made
the same decisions,

the same...

the same choices?

Sure, we would've
adjusted a few things.

But in the choice
between freedom

and tyranny,

we must always choose freedom.

Has the war weighed
heavily on me?

Sure it has.

I think about it every day.

Do I cry about it?

Yeah, without a doubt.

I cry a lot.

I feel for the families

who've lost loved ones.

I cry for the parents

who've lost
a son or daughter.

I cry for the kids who'll never
get to know their mom or dad.

I also feel

for the hundreds of thousands
of Iraqi civilians

who've lost their lives.

A lot of this crying
is done alone.

'Cause I'm the one
who made the call

and I must live with that.

So at this moment in time,

I'd like to honor
all those who've died

as a result of this war

with a moment of silence.

Hello?

Huh?

No, we're not
taking reservations.

No, I don't know where
"Annie Get Your Gun's" playing.

What?

Yeah, I love Tom Wopat too.

Oh my god, that scared
the shit out of me.

For a tenth of a second,
I thought that was God calling.

Or worse, my dad.

I swear to god, I think I had a
heart attack in my butthole.

Is that medically possible?

Does anyone know?

Is there a doctor
in the house?

Jerry, I think that spleef
you gave me was laced.

Ow, yeah,
it's in my upper butthole.

Cort Theater.
How can I help you?

Hey, Brownie!

It's former head of FEMA Mike Brownie.
Wanna say anything?

They love you here, man.
What's up?

How're you doing, Brownie?

How's your wife Cathy?
She still got big tits?

I'm just kidding, Brownie.
Relax, man.

Hey, do you remember when you were
Judges and Stewards Commissioner

of the International
Arabian Horse Association?

Yeah, why'd we ever think
that'd be proper training

for you to head up FEMA?

I know, it literally
makes no sense.

When I think back
to your appointment,

it shows
a blatant disregard

for the agency
and its function.

Then wouldn't you know it,
we get hit with the greatest

natural disaster in US history.

You still have
nightmares about it?

I'll bet you do.

Oh, Brownie.

Hey, do you remember when I
finally got on the ground

and it wasn't even
New Orleans?

That's right.
It was Mobile, Alabama.

I said, "Brownie, you're doing
a heck of a job"?

It's so funny 'cause you were
not doing a heck of a job.

That's right, you were doing the
opposite of a heck of a job.

Oh, Brownie.

Do you remember
on national television

when Kanye West said
that I hated black people?

I know, I don't hate
black people.

I never even
think about them.

Not in my day to day.

By the way,
how's New Orleans doing?

Uh-huh?

A lot of it still hasn't
been rebuilt?

It's funny. You would've thought
that after my initial mess-up

that I would've dedicated
more of my second term

to just checking in
on New Orleans.

I know, but I didn't.

You hit the nail
on the head, Brownie.

Americans do have
a short attention span.

No, it's great 'cause you can just
half-ass shit and it doesn't matter.

Oh, Brownie.

I could talk to you
all night long.

Have you been watching
"Dancing With the Stars"?

Yeah. No, my money's
on Lil Kim.

Do you know how
to say it in Spanish?

Yeah.

Lil Kim in Spanish?
No, I don't know.

Probably "Kimalito", maybe.
I don't know.

Yeah.

No, go ahead. Yeah, Google it.
I can wait.

You got to reboot your computer?
Okay, man.

Oh, "0 searches found"?

Well, I guess that'll be
a mystery for the ages.

Yeah.
Really?

And you're doing...
Yeah? Uh-huh.

Okay.

Oh, so you're just
growing a mustache?

Well, it sounded
a lot more complicated

the way you were
describing it. Yeah.

Don't yell at me.
No, you called me.

Oh, you got to run?
All right, man.

Okay, take it easy.

Hey, Brownie? Good luck with your
bed sweats and your night terrors.

All right, buddy.
Take care.

You people probably won't even
remember that phone call.

Please hang up now.

This is a recording.

Hey, hey!
What the fuck's going on, man?

What are you doing, Jerry?

I leave for like four seconds, you turn
the whole place into "Electric Boogaloo"?

You will talk to me.

I'm gonna wear you down

like an irritating gnat.

I'll give you $20,000 if you
bones it out with me right now.

Smart man. I was not gonna
give him the $20,000.

You know, one of my great
qualities as president,

and heck, as a human being

is my ability to give out
clever nicknames

to all those that I
come in contact with.

So...

so at this moment in time, we're
gonna bring the house lights up.

I want you
to raise your hand,

tell me your name
and you're occupation,

I'll give you
a cool nickname.

Yeah, that guy
on the balcony right there.

The glasses.

Rick?
You're a journalist?

Uh, I'm gonna call you...

who's the guy from
"The Washington Post"

that did the book on me?

Are you really
a journalist?

Most of the time.

Most of the time?
I'm gonna call you The Liar.

This lady right here.
Yeah. Right there.

Yeah.
Jenay?

You're a student?
Are you in college?

I'm gonna call you
Good Luck With the Job Market.

Yeah, this girl right here.

Your name is Cognac?
Anya.

Oh, Anya. Phew.

I was about to say that's one of
the coolest names of all time.

"This is Cognac.
What's up?"

Anya.
What do you do?

I'm a tennis coach.
You're a tennis coach?

I'm gonna call you
Martina Navratilova.

Yeah, this guy right here.

Thomas Jones,
orthopedic surgeon.

Thomas Jones.
"Orthapedis" surgeon.

Orthopedic surgeon?

Uh, I'm gonna call you
The Scorpion.

Yeah, this guy
right here.

Alexander?

You own an iced tea company?

I'm gonna call you
Nestea Plunge.

Yeah, right here.

Bruce, you look like a member
of the Doobie Brothers.

You remember
the Doobie Brothers?

I'm gonna call you
China Grove.

Yeah, this guy
right down here.

I'm a gastroenterologist.

You're a gastroenterologist?

I'm gonna call
you The Fiber Man.

Yeah, this lady right here.

Savannah.

Savannah?
And what do you do?

I'm a Shakespeare scholar.

You're a Shakespeare scholar?

I'm gonna call you Scholar
of Unnecessary Subjects.

I'm not trying
to be mean or anything,

but seriously.

How often do we hear
Shakespeare in our lives?

It's all a bunch of gobbledy-gook.
Yeah?

This distinguished-looking
gentleman right here.

Jerry.

You're a theater ticket broker?

I'm gonna
call you The Ascot.

Yeah, this guy
right in the front row.

I'm Jason.
I'm a software engineer.

Software engineer?

I'll call you Nerd Alert.

That guy in the glasses
right there.

Blake Pearson. I'm a writer, but
not for "The New York Times."

You're a writer?

What do you write?
Comic books or something?

So what do you write?

Screenplays.
Screenplays?

I'm gonna call you
Hurry Up and Wait.

Yeah, this lady right back here.

My name is Ola.
Hola?

Hola to you, Hola.

Yeah, that guy right here
in the cool hairdo.

You got a lot of mousse
in your hair tonight, man.

Looks good.

Yeah, that's a good-looking
beard too.

I'm gonna call you
Jacques Cousteau.

Yeah, right here.
This lady.

Lisa.
Lisa?

I'm a real estate
investor.

I'm gonna call you
Shit Outta Luck, Lisa.

I think that went really well.

That went really well, yeah.

Yeah, yeah.

And Lisa,

footnote to that...
it's not my fault. Okay?

I think we came up with some
really cool nicknames, yeah...

that'll...

that'll hopefully
last a lifetime.

Nerd Alert.

"Hey, where's Nerd Alert?

I'm supposed to
pick him up at 10:00."

"He's doing his software stuff."

It's like magic.

I wish being president
was that easy.

Yeah.

Eight years.

Eight whole years.

Went by in the blink of an eye.

Did we find Osama bin Laden?

No, we dropped the ball
on that one. I agree.

But did we get steroids
out of baseball?

You bet we did.

Sort of.

Did we make sure marriage
is a union

between a man and a woman?

In most places, yes,

even though I'd be lying to you
if I told you

I didn't enjoy my AWOL time
in Vermont with Dave Rothschild.

Were we able to ease
trade restrictions with China

to get their toxic
lead-based toys

and poisonous
breast formula?

Check mark.

We also tripled the deficit,

sanctioned torture,

and illegally
wiretapped Americans

months before 9/11.

But on the down side,

we did oversee the collapse of
the entire world economy, so...

masser menos.

Right, Hola?

So basically
it comes down to this...

am I the worst
president of all-time?

Hold on, hold on, hold on.

I didn't realize tonight
was amateur historian night.

Some say that it was
James Buchanan,

who in 1860, when faced
with secession,

did nothing.

Or was it Abraham Lincoln's
successor,

Andrew Johnson,

who openly sided
with former Confederates

to undermine
reconstruction efforts?

Warren G. Harding.

His administration
was openly corrupt.

What about Millard Fillmore?

His name was Millard Fillmore.

How did he grow up
past age six, you know?

Cognac would be
a better name for him.

What about Herbert Hoover? That
guy was a pretty good lameass.

Then there's Richard Nixon.
He bombed Cambodia

without telling anybody,

then escalated
the Vietnam War.

And then there's me.

I was able to get Congress

to do just about anything
I wanted them to do,

which technically,
isn't that the mark

of an effective president?

The bottom line is

can you go to bed at night

knowing the decisions
that you have made?

And I know that I can.

Partly because
I'm a really good sleeper.

I just like to sleep.

When I look in the mirror,
I like what I see.

So I feel pretty good.

I feel pretty good.

One last thing, since I know
I'm not gonna hear any thanks,

I just wanna say one last thing,

you're welcome, America.

♪ I followed you to Texas ♪

♪ I followed you to Utah ♪

♪ I went with you to Alabama ♪

♪ Things looked good
in Birmingham ♪

♪ I know you're tired
of following ♪

♪ My elusive dreams
and schemes ♪

♪ For they're only
fleeting things ♪

♪ My elusive dreams ♪

♪ So long, farewell
Auf Wiedersehen, adieu ♪

♪ Adieu, adieu
To you and you and you ♪

♪ So long, farewell
Au revoir, auf Wiedersehen ♪

Yeah, this guy right here.
Yeah.

Chris, teacher.
What do you teach, Chris?

High school special ed.

Special ed?

That's a good subject, man.

Yeah.

I'm gonna call you...

You know, I don't really have
a nickname for you,

but I remember some
of those classes.

Yeah, this guy
right here.

I sell decorative hardware
and bath accessories.

Decorative hardware
and bath accessories.

I'm gonna call you

Scrub-a-Dub-Dub
Three Men in a Tub.

Yeah, what's your name?

Andy?
And you're in seventh grade?

I'm gonna
call you Pubes.

Dave Rothschild?

Get up here, man.

Nice to see you, man.
You look good.

You look great.

You look great.

Where have you been?

You stopped returning my calls

22 years ago, man.

All right, buddy.