The President’s Remarks

Sometimes we here at This Way to the Egress get leaked an advanced copy of President Obama’s speech.  (Thank you, Helen Thomas!  Nice to see you have free time these days, Helen.  Helen? Helen!?)  And with the President set to address the nation about the Gulf oil spill tonight at 8 pm, below follows the leaked copy of his remarks.

INT.  OVAL OFFICE – NIGHT

My fellow Americans, I come to you from the Oval Office tonight–  wait, I can’t see the prompter, who got black ink on the prompter?!, c’mon people!

President Obama calmly walks to the prompter, licks his thumb, and attempts to wipe away the ink.

See, I’m the Daddy-in-Chief, America.  Oh, wait, this isn’t ink–  it’s oil!  Oil!  Are you freaking kidding me?  This damn oil is everywhere!

The President resumes his seat.

Everyone's angry. No one wants to pay.

I speak to you tonight, the American people, a naïvely optimistic lot who somehow decided, in their infinite wisdom to elect a centerfold in Massachusetts, shut down every good taco truck in Arizona, and watch enough “The Biggest Loser” that NBC went for a spin-off…  well, Christ, why did I want this job again?

Well, well, that’s right–  well!  I speak to you about the British Petroleum oil well that exploded in the Gulf some fifty-odd days ago, thus apparently negating the fact I once passed the most iconic piece of domestic legislation in a generation.  And to my fellow Americans, I say this:  Calm down.

I know you’re upset, a giant corporation with absolutely zero regard for anyone–  and that includes marine life–  just took a giant crap on humanity.  I’m upset too, it’s just I’m an adult and I know that it was President Bush who reversed his father’s moratorium on oil drilling after a little something we call Exxon Valdez.  I know no one– not even those evil British bastards– plan on oil wells exploding.  And I know that there are no good options.

Ah, public art!

See, there’s the rub.  Apparently the press would like it if I stomped my foot, screamed, and demanded my pound of flesh.  Well, none of that is going to stop oil from gushing into our precious oceans.  While you folks are blabbering away on cable TV, I’m trying to, you know, fix the actual problem.

Let me say this to B.P.:  Go fuck yourselves.  There are ways you handle tragedies (hell, David Letterman gushed enough oil out of the Ed Sullivan Theater to kill more than one species, and he’s still on TV), and this ain’t it.  You’re denying claims.  You pass the buck on responsibility to Transocean–  this isn’t a game, this is real life!  Your C.E.O. has the empathy quotient of Dick Cheney at a Muslim hunting camp.  You’re British, which no one cares about; you fucked up, and we know you know this because you know you’re losing moolah; and now you have to do better.  And I intend to use every power of the office– which, admittedly, is not as much as it could be– to make you culpable.

Too much? Or not enough?

But back to the American people:  I know the government screwed up here, though the folks claiming this is my Katrina moment have been watching WAY too much Fox News.  The M.M.S. was caught napping, but, seriously–  I’ve got a lousy economy, two wars, surgeries that bankrupts families, mortgages that Donald Trump can’t afford–  you think anyone was paying attention to the M.M.S.?  Did you guys even know what the M.M.S. was before this shit?  And for all the people who claim that my Presidency is now tarred like the beaches of the Gulf Coast, um, how come none of you are addressing the hard  choices:  We’re dependent on oil!  We like cars!  I slap a six month moratorium on offshore drilling (which, you know, two months ago Republicans loved that I supported), and I’m raked over the non-alternative coals.  Liberals hate all this offshore drilling, but are still against wind farms in their precious sounds!  We refuse to raise taxes, to build high-speed railroads, to carpool, to give up our SUVs!  You want to get serious about this disaster, America–  great, let’s put a 15% tax at the gas pump to exclusively pay for clean-up of the Gulf Coast.  Hey, where’d everybody go?

Um... yeah.

So, we’re gonna do the best we can.  We’re gonna cope with the oil spill the same way we cope with Afghanistan and Iraq and Katrina and health care and the economy, and every other problem with three kind of options: the bad, the worse, and the just plain horrific.  And if you, the American people, ever decide to get serious about this–  to make the hard choices on alternative energy and public transportation and, yes, taxes– let me know.  Until then, I’ll be handwriting this note to the only British dude I like right now:  Robert Green.

Tune in tonight to see if America’s finest reality show, The Administration, says anything like this!

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