] THE PRESIDENT: You may be seated. Like most of you out
] there, I keep a list of all the folks who have withheld
] or qualified their flattery of me over the years. Next to
] French dictator Jack Chirac, is Betsy Jernigan (who
] snickered quietly while I was stumbling through Dick and
] Jane in the third grade), Prince Charles of England (who
] supposedly opened his fairy trap to say something vaguely
] unfavorable about me at a private dinner), dried-up hag
] Helen Thomas, and Skip Barnsworth (who called me a
] "cheerleader fag" when I threw up on his Weejuns at a
] Delt party at Yale).
]
] Often, before turning in for bed at 8:30, I go through
] three or four pages in one of the many yellow legal pads
] in which I scribble the names of bastards who've rubbed
] me the wrong way. I can't tell you what a rush it is to
] come across a name and have my heart jump for joy as I
] put down my pretzel and cold beverage and run a red pen
] over and over and over and over their name, knowing that
] they had been killed by a hit and run, succumbed to an
] unexplained suicide, or been strangled by an over-zealous
] CIA operative acting on more of a polite hint than an
] outright order.

Satire....man's greatest gift.