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CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH YIELDS TO PRESIDENT BUSH'S TOUGH, NON-NEGOTIABLE DEMAND THAT AMERICA RETAIN THE PROUD TITLE OF "SAUDI ARABIA'S THIRSTIEST OIL *****"
Official Diplomatic Transcipt
THE PRESIDENT: Crown Prince Abdullah, welcome to Crawford, Your Royal Highness, Sir.
(Shaking of Hands.)
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: It is agreeable to see you, Son of Bush. Though this hand of yours is supple, I would also have you shower hungry kisses upon my royal mouth.
THE PRESIDENT: Yessir, Your Royal Highness, Sir!
(Feverish Open-Mouthed Kissing.)
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: Bush? (Licks Lips, Frowns.) Is this the savory residue of swine flesh I taste within your orifice? (Spits.)
THE PRESIDENT: No sir, Your Royal Highness, Sir! That there's just some turkey bacon I had with my eggs and grits this morning. Tastes like the real deal though, don't it?
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: You would do well to refrain from implying my familiarity with the putrid cuisine of infidels.
THE PRESIDENT: I'm real sorry about that, Your Royal Highness, Sir. Would you like to go inside now?
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: No, first I would walk with you amongst the pretty flowers, Bush. Surrender your soft pink hand to me.
THE PRESIDENT: Can't we wait until we're away from the cameras, Your Royal Highness, Sir? I mean, they already saw the kiss.
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: No. For while this meeting to discuss oil prices was your idea, I have traveled halfway around the earth to spare you certain assassination in my homeland. And so, as reimbursement for my valuable time wasted here in your cesspool nation, I shall feminize you in the eyes of your rabidly homophobic countrymen, so that they might see you for what you (and they) are: the petrochemical equivalent of a crack whore, an addicted slave to her pimp, who'll surrender her last shred of dignity in exchange for a fix. <TABLE cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width=165 align=right border=0><TBODY><TR vAlign=top><TD width=165><TABLE cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width=165 border=0><TBODY><TR vAlign=top><TD width=165 bgColor=#eeeeee>
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THE PRESIDENT: Sounds good to me, Your Royal Highness, Sir! (Curtseys.) Does that mean you're going to cut prices so all my pals can keep tooling around in Hummers?
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: (Laughs.) Certainly not. And yet, in my limitless magnanimousness, I shall authorize you to communicate my "intention" to increase production by some paltry quantity – albeit not for several years. This will create the perception that any relief from price gauging is on the distant horizon, thereby granting me carte blanche to boost prices yet higher still – even above $100/barrel.
THE PRESIDENT: But won't that make folks awful angry, Your Royal Highness, Sir?
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: Your little hand, how it trembles and perspires so in my domineering grip, Bush!
Indeed, America's rabble will doubtless boil with helpless frustration. But let them look on the bright side – unlike my countrymen, many of your people have learned skills OTHER than pumping black sludge out of the ground. And so, once we've tapped our reserves, causing the earth's crust to collapse, thereby plummeting my parched native wasteland into the abyss that was once an ocean of oil, you Americans may yet survive.
In the meantime Bush, take personal comfort in the knowledge that Byzantine accounting keeps millions in Carlyle Group oil profits flowing into your extended family's coffers. In short, you shall never want, so long as you obey me without question.
THE PRESIDENT: Thank you so much, Your Royal Highness, Sir!
(Kneels, Kisses Royal Hand)
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: You are welcome, Bush.
THE PRESIDENT: What can I do to thank you? Can I get you some nice cocaine – or maybe a few blue-eyed virgin girlies from Crawford Middle School to take home with you?
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: Females? My harem overfloweth already. Besides, they are so needy. So weak. So repulsively hairless. This is why we keep them shrouded in Hefty bags.
No Bush, I would negotiate further with YOU, all through the night, alone in your chambers.
THE PRESIDENT: What about Laura?
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: Has this squalid dirt plantation no slave quarters? Banish your Christian whore there, and let us retire to do the hard work of men. THE PRESIDENT: Yessir, Your Royal Highness
Official Diplomatic Transcipt
(Shaking of Hands.)
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: It is agreeable to see you, Son of Bush. Though this hand of yours is supple, I would also have you shower hungry kisses upon my royal mouth.
THE PRESIDENT: Yessir, Your Royal Highness, Sir!
(Feverish Open-Mouthed Kissing.)
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: Bush? (Licks Lips, Frowns.) Is this the savory residue of swine flesh I taste within your orifice? (Spits.)
THE PRESIDENT: No sir, Your Royal Highness, Sir! That there's just some turkey bacon I had with my eggs and grits this morning. Tastes like the real deal though, don't it?
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: You would do well to refrain from implying my familiarity with the putrid cuisine of infidels.
THE PRESIDENT: I'm real sorry about that, Your Royal Highness, Sir. Would you like to go inside now?
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: No, first I would walk with you amongst the pretty flowers, Bush. Surrender your soft pink hand to me.
THE PRESIDENT: Can't we wait until we're away from the cameras, Your Royal Highness, Sir? I mean, they already saw the kiss.
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: No. For while this meeting to discuss oil prices was your idea, I have traveled halfway around the earth to spare you certain assassination in my homeland. And so, as reimbursement for my valuable time wasted here in your cesspool nation, I shall feminize you in the eyes of your rabidly homophobic countrymen, so that they might see you for what you (and they) are: the petrochemical equivalent of a crack whore, an addicted slave to her pimp, who'll surrender her last shred of dignity in exchange for a fix. <TABLE cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width=165 align=right border=0><TBODY><TR vAlign=top><TD width=165><TABLE cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width=165 border=0><TBODY><TR vAlign=top><TD width=165 bgColor=#eeeeee>
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THE PRESIDENT: Sounds good to me, Your Royal Highness, Sir! (Curtseys.) Does that mean you're going to cut prices so all my pals can keep tooling around in Hummers?
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: (Laughs.) Certainly not. And yet, in my limitless magnanimousness, I shall authorize you to communicate my "intention" to increase production by some paltry quantity – albeit not for several years. This will create the perception that any relief from price gauging is on the distant horizon, thereby granting me carte blanche to boost prices yet higher still – even above $100/barrel.
THE PRESIDENT: But won't that make folks awful angry, Your Royal Highness, Sir?
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: Your little hand, how it trembles and perspires so in my domineering grip, Bush!
Indeed, America's rabble will doubtless boil with helpless frustration. But let them look on the bright side – unlike my countrymen, many of your people have learned skills OTHER than pumping black sludge out of the ground. And so, once we've tapped our reserves, causing the earth's crust to collapse, thereby plummeting my parched native wasteland into the abyss that was once an ocean of oil, you Americans may yet survive.
In the meantime Bush, take personal comfort in the knowledge that Byzantine accounting keeps millions in Carlyle Group oil profits flowing into your extended family's coffers. In short, you shall never want, so long as you obey me without question.
THE PRESIDENT: Thank you so much, Your Royal Highness, Sir!
(Kneels, Kisses Royal Hand)
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: You are welcome, Bush.
THE PRESIDENT: What can I do to thank you? Can I get you some nice cocaine – or maybe a few blue-eyed virgin girlies from Crawford Middle School to take home with you?
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: Females? My harem overfloweth already. Besides, they are so needy. So weak. So repulsively hairless. This is why we keep them shrouded in Hefty bags.
No Bush, I would negotiate further with YOU, all through the night, alone in your chambers.
THE PRESIDENT: What about Laura?
CROWN PRINCE ABDULLAH: Has this squalid dirt plantation no slave quarters? Banish your Christian whore there, and let us retire to do the hard work of men. THE PRESIDENT: Yessir, Your Royal Highness