As W. The Rockstar President went out to get his mail today, he made the somewhat cryptic statement, "Yea, I got me some bad boys in here, some of them nuclear ones...been using it to keep my collection of cowboy hats on, and to make nifty endtables.  But, I am thinking now, that the only way to save the Iraqui's is to fall back on what was, I hope the world will remember, my original plan, which is to kill all of the Iraqui's, so we know that they are safe from factions in their own society that would terrorize the march of freedom.  Like with animals -- and you would not believe the reports I get on how many people these despicable NARCO TERRORISTS kill and mayhem.  If it isn't alligators taken some kid in the nile, it is a . . . well, some god forasken pig eating somebody at a goddamned petting zoo.  I will not stand by and say 'hey, they are animals, so they can kill on my watch.'  I think them other presidents were scared of bears or something . . . being from texas, and having shot many a bear out in the wild, where dad would put the pens that held these feirce beasts as we crept to within a hundred yards, risking life and limb, to kill these creatures.  Oh, it was a battle between man and animal of the likes unseen since dad went into that Chicken Coup to hunt the often peckish hen.  He barely came out of that one alive.  There were ankle scratches that to this day he cannot bear to remember.  In fact he faints, like we all do.  Chicken scratches can be as painful as... well, hell, bullets, I imagine.  Well, more bullets than one.  People can still walk with a bullet, but when dad took that chicken scratch, they had to airlift him to Mountain Sinia -- there was not way in hell he was walking with that gash, which almost broke the skin."

The president then scratched his groin, belched, went back inside with his mail and slammed the door shut behind.