I>Operation Enduring Freedom, President Bush's fantasy about one dyslexic man-boy's quest to liberate Iraq from the tyranny of a dangerous criminal mastermind, claimed four Oscars last Sunday, including best adapted screenplay. The script was adapted from his father George Herbert Walker Bush's record-grossing Operation Desert Storm, which took home nine Academy Awards in 1991, including Best Special Effects and Best Costumes.

In a tearful acceptance speech marked by his endearing broken English, the president thanked God, his campaign contributors, Big Oil, Tammy Wynette, God "and anyone who's ever had a dream."

After a heart-rending string of several moments when Bush forgot why he was at the podium, the president ended his speech with a salute to the father, the son and the holy thing before wandering away from the podium muttering about bombing Turkey.

Iraq was clearly the subject on everyone's mind for the night, as many of the award winners made remarkable antiwar statements and peppered their acceptance speeches with deeply moving commentary.

"At times like this we need to honor the real heroes," gushed a teary-eyed Best Actress Nicole Kidman. "The men and women who keep this country great by playing soldiers in major motion pictures, reminding us what it's like to die for your country, or the country where you make money. People like Josh Hartnett. I wish he were here tonight, to celebrate with us."

Hartnett, who was in the men's room getting a blowjob at the time of the speech, took the honor in stride. "Nah man, I'm not a hero. When we were out filming in Bosnia, the catering people were the real heros. Those bagel sandwiches were awesome."

After Kidman's moving speech, host Steve Martin lightened the mood by announcing that Hartnett would be starring this summer in Pearl Harbor II: America Bombs the Sand People with Bruce Willis and John Leguizamo.

Director Steven Spielberg, on hand in case any spare Oscars went unclaimed, raised the consciousness of the room when he spoke out against Saddam Hussein's use of human shields in the early stages of the war. "America has no choice but to remove from power a leader who would put thousands of innocent people in harm's way by not putting all of his tanks and things out in the desert where we can blow them up easy like last time. He gives us no choice but to attack and kill civilians so that we might liberate them." Spielberg's comments were met with loud applause from an audience that contained suspiciously few survivors from the United States' bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945.

Best Documentary Film winner Michael Moore drew angry boos from the fickle crowd for his anti-war statements, leading some to speculate that the audience wasn't actually listening to the words and was just cheering for the general attractiveness of the speakers.

Best Supporting Actress Catherine Zeta-Jones also spoke out against the war in her brief acceptance speech:

"Fuck you all, I'm pregnant."

In a surprise humanitarian move, Miramax head Harvey Weinstein announced that all of Miramax's eighteen Oscar-winning films will be re-released to the theaters this month, in an effort to help Americans cope with the stresses of war.

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Once again the current political climate has brought out the worst in the spend-o-crats. In case you're thinking that's another name for a real political party, don't be stupid. It's my funny way of saying Democrats that makes all my fans hoot and holler and make farting noises in approval. They know what I know—the spend-o-crats just like to spend our money on useless socialist programs, money that could be much better spent on bombers and tanks.

As my die-hard fans know, I decided to go into the job of professional right-wing personality when listening to the radio one day and hearing an out-of-context quote from that hippie socialist Robert Redford about how if we took all the money we were using to kill people overseas we could use that money to feed those same people. And I'm thinking, of course, "Cu-ckoo!" Am I right, readers? Why in the name of Jeepers H. Crackers would we want to feed the people we're trying to kill? What a spend-o-crat! The idiot totally doesn't get the idea of warfare. Unless maybe he was talking about poisoning the food we give the enemy or something, which I don't agree with. It's much more civil to shoot someone in the face than poison them.

I knew at that moment I could be a spokesperson for the "unpopular" view in Hollywood. I began to appear on radio programs, blowing away my opponents and sounding very handsome indeed. I would go on television programs, where I overcame the natural disadvantage of how I really look to out-argue such spend-o-crat linguistic acrobats as Pamela Anderson and Carrot Top. Slowly, one by one, I built up not only my following, but also my '83 Imapala's engine. Now I drive from city to city, lecturing to sold-out crowds of wealthy people who like to have what they already know reinforced by expensive speakers. And I make a pretty penny doing so, let me tell you! It's the American way.

But that doesn't give me the right to relax and let any nobody who happens to have a congressional job tell the president how to spend his money. And once again those spend-o-crats are going back on their word. They promised W. (my little nickname for him) that they would go all the way on this War on Terror, and like a scared teen-age girl who changes her mind at the last minute, they need a little coercing. That's what I'm writing about.

The spend-o-crats approved the War on Terror months ago, when it was a popular idea and the right thing to do. They knew if they didn't, if their stupid liberal pacifism showed its ugly head at that time, they would be ousted right from office by the public! I'm not sure exactly how that would be done, I'm not an expert on the law, the constitution, or how the government works in any fashion, but by God, we would have done it. Now that the war's been going a little slow they figure they can flip-flop and talk about spending that War on Terror money on domestic issues. I say to hell with that! That's War on Terror money! If I were the president (God willing, someday) I'd chew on that money like a dog with a bone. "No ya don't! That's my Terror money! Get off, bitch!" Though maybe without the street lingo.

And though nobody likes an argument, except most of us, the president knows darn well he has to be firm and unyielding with those War on Terror funds. The spend-o-crats gave 'em, now they can't take 'em back. You know what we call those people? Indian spend-o-crats. Or injun take-backers. Drunken redskin bastards. Something truly offensive to Indians. I say don't take it, W. We started out to level and destroy any country that doesn't like us, that's what the War on Terror's about, and by golly, we need to stay with it. Even if it means Iraq or Iran is next. And hopefully, eventually, France.

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"Feed a cold, starve a fever—that also applies, respectively, to Gandhi and Orson Welles."

I feel like an asshole because I think I got that SARS stuff that's going around. Only nobody else I know has it. It's possible it's not the SARS stuff, since there's not been any reported cases where I live, and that Mexican Sushi place was pretty awful and I got diarrhea the last time I ate there, too, but I'm not taking any chances.

Neither is anybody I know. Taking chances, I mean. They all wear those goofy masks when I come around, but some of them have been doing that for months. They say they don't want to give me nothing, but the way they frown when I accidentally cut cheese says more than words can say. And it sounds like a duck. That's funny. I got to write that one down. I suppose I already did.

Those masks are funny. They remind me of bank robber masks, like in the old west. You know, Billy the Kid and stuff. I bet in Hong Kong where they have lots of SARS it would be easy to rob a bank, you could just walk in wearing a mask like all the SARS people, then pull out a gun and stick up the teller. Tell her you'll give her SARS if she doesn't give you all the money, but don't get a dye pack to go with that. Those dye packs aren't as fun as they look and that's how they catch bank robbers.

Doctors wear those masks all the time. I bet that's why they give you the knock-out gas before the doctor comes in the room. The doctor walks in and you're thinking, "Great, now I'm getting robbed when I came here for surgery!" But they said the doctor doesn't come in before I'm knocked out because every time he sees the bottle sticking out of my ass he cracks up laughing. I tried to tell them I didn't know how he was going to be able to get it out while he was laughing so much, but the gas knocked me out.

Another great bank robber was Jesse James. He had a brother named Frank, but nobody's heard of him. I wonder if Jesse did all the talking and that's why we know him and not Frank. I betcha Frank was probably thinking, "Goddammit, I wish he'd let me say something. He's afraid I'll freeze up and forget the routine, or I might get nervous and blurt out where our hideout is. But he's really just wanting to hog all the history to himself."

I bet Jesse James was pulling down "wanted dead or alive" money in the neighborhood of $30 or something ('cause it was all real cheap in the old west). Frank was stuck with "bring in the head of Frank James and get a free drink of grade-B whiskey." Wow, it really sucked to be Frank James.

That would be funny if Frank James lived forever because he had that SARS mask on all the time, on account of he never did the talking, but Jesse caught SARS because he foolishly pulled the mask down to tell them about the dye packs and stuff. That would suck to be Frank James and live all those years after your brother died and then just catch SARS yourself going to Hong Kong to rob a bank.

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