You're Welcome America

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You're Welcome, America is a 2009 play written by Will Ferrell and Adam McKay, and starring Ferrell as George W. Bush.

George W. Bush[edit]

"That was weird"[edit]

That was weird. When the pilots of Marine One said they were going to drop me off in New York City, I thought they were joking. I said, "Sure. Y'know, while you're at it, why don't you drop me off in the faggy Theater District?" And guess what, they did! So the joke's on me. But let me be clear about something - I'm just kidding, okay? I don't think theater's faggy. Except for Cats and I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change. Yeah, that one's queer and Yiddishy. You know, if you want to treat yourself to just a wonderful night out at the theater, just an outstanding show about pride and work ethic and values without any sort of gay agenda, go see Rent. Laura and I must've seen that show no less than eighty times.

2008 election[edit]

I know I can't change what happened seven weeks ago. It happened. It's the law. And, I'll be honest with you: I'm a fan of the Tiger Woods guy. He seems like a smart guy. He's a great speech-maker. His words are just so intoxicating, just washing over you like Shakespeare having sex with a bottle of Courvoisier. His words just wash over you like hot butterscotch pudding. It's like, don't stop, you know?

"Let Us Pray"[edit]

Let us pray. Dear Lord Jesus Christ, and by Jesus Christ I'm referring to blond, good-looking, lightly-bearded or clean-shaven Jesus Christ, not hippie-looking Jesus or swarthy, more Middle Eastern Jesus — who's probably more historically accurate — not that guy. So dear clean-shaven or lightly-bearded-like-Mike-Piazza Jesus, we give thanks to you and to everything you do. Your love and acceptance washes over all of us like the warm healing waters in one of those European toilets that cleans you inside and out. I believe it's called a bid-ett. Dear blond, almost Swiss-looking Jesus, we ask you to allow us to accept everyone in this theater tonight, regardless of their religious beliefs, whether it be Muslim, or Hindu, or Jewish, or witchcraft.

"Where wings take dream"[edit]

I grew up in Midland, Texas, and looking back, that was a perfect place for wings to take dream. I was a simple, normal kid. I liked to do simple, normal things, like shoot wrist rockets at a stray cat strapped to a propane tank. Just basic mischief, you know? Or like this one time, we shot up a sleeping hobo full of novocaine, then we'd yell, "Pie on the windowsill!" And they'd wake up all numb and poor and we'd laugh. But that's just the kind of stuff you do growing up in Midland, when you're a young, precocious little 30-year-old.

"How much muff there was"[edit]

[about his first threesome] There was muff flyin' everywhere. Talkin' knee-deep in muff. You had to get your muff waders on. Know what I mean? [points to an audience member who heckled him earlier] You would not know what I mean. Need;ess to say, there was a high volume of muff. [pause] Is anyone confused at this point in the story as to how much muff there was? Because I can keep going with the analogies. Okay, you know the Great Wall of China? Imagine that's made entirely of muff. You know those water cannons that riot police use to hose down crowds? Imagine that the only thing coming out is liquid muff, at like 3000 pounds per second. We got it covered? Okay, muff said.

The Crawford ranch[edit]

I know this land like the back of my hand, and heck, I should! I established a record for most vacation days taken by a president: 40 percent of my time in office was spent at one presidential retreat or another, and I'm proud of that record. During that time, I watched Carlito's Way over 800 times. This ranch means so much to me and Laura. Nothing's more American or therapeutic in my opinion than obsessively clearing brush. [takes off cowboy hat] Ah, who am I kidding? We're hoping to sell this place by June! Karl Rove made me buy it in '99 to seem more folksy. Can I be honest with you? I don't know what the fuck I'm doing out here! I almost got lockjaw three different times from cutting myself on rusted barbed wire. It's a hot, dusty, heat stroke-inducing hellhole out here! We're so excited now that we've moved into our whites-only community in Dallas, where I can pay immigrants to clear my brush for me the way God intended.

Bush Men[edit]

One time, I did convince all the family to come down here one Easter. I took all the Bush men - Dad, Jeb, Neil, Marvin - on a tour of an old abandoned mineshaft I found on the outskirts of the ranch. It was fun, all the Bush guys reminiscing, clowning around in an old abandoned mineshaft, when wouldn't you know, it collapses on us. We'd be trapped for three days, and the whole while, my Dad's up my ass saying things like, "Goddammit, George! Did you test this shaft to see if it was safe?" I'm like, "No! Of course not! It's just an abandoned mineshaft, you just go climb around in it! Besides, I thought you'd like it, 'cause it's historical!" And then Jeb's like, "Everyone shut up, we've gotta conserve oxygen!" I'm like, "I don't give a shit! God's got a plan for me! If this is the way I go, then this is the way I go!" Then my Dad's like, "Gimme a fucking break! Did you tell anyone where we were going?" And I'm like, "No! I didn't! I only thought we'd be gone an hour!" He's like, "You've gotta be kidding me!" All of a sudden, Marvin starts screaming, "I crushed my maid with a car!" And Neil starts yelling, "I once had sex with 30 Thai hookers at once!" And then Jeb's like, "I'm being serious, let's conserve oxygen!" I'm like, "Enough with the damn oxygen!" And my Dad's like, "Why are you the only one in this family that speaks with a Texas accent? It makes no sense!" I'm like, "Do I? Do I have an accent? 'Cause if I do, I can't hear it!" And just then, as my Dad was about to lunge for my neck, we heard some rocks moving, and outside was my Mom, all ripped and muscular, throwing boulders away from the opening of the mineshaft. She then pulled us out one by one and placed us on a cart, and pulled the cart like a powerful draft horse all the way back home, her deltoids twitching, her loins covered in a milky white froth. It was one of the most gross and impressive things I'd ever seen. I was crying and barfing all at the same time.

Election 2000[edit]

They said, "Gore's calling again," I'm like, "What's his deal?" They said, "This time he's calling to take back his concession 'cause it's too close to call and they're doing a statewide recall," and I'm like, "You can't take it back!" He's like, "Yes I can." I'm like, "No you can't." He's like, "Says who?" And I paused and I thought real hard. Then I said, "The Geneva Convention, that's who," and I hung up the phone again. Turns out I was wrong. The Geneva Convention pertains more to the laws that will govern the Moon once it's colonized. But it sure felt good at the moment.

Alone with Dick Cheney[edit]

Yes, one time I did walk in on Dick Cheney down in the basement of the White House, and he was being fucked by a giant goat-devil in a room full of pentagrams. And he looked up at me with solid silver glowing orb-like eyes, and his breath had a strong ammonia scent to it, and he told me in a language that I knew in my heart had not been spoken in over a thousand years, "Parrav go lahlah!" And I just ran, I just got the hell out of there.

Mission accomplished[edit]

[on the war in Iraq] Sure, some things didn't go as planned — like the absence of a plan for anything once we were inside the country. [shrugs] Oops.

Operation Primate Speargun[edit]

Then of course there was Morocco, who pledged to send 2,000 monkeys to detonate land mines and perform at children's parties. Then there seemed to be some question as to whether or not Morocco had the monkeys, and I said, "Regardless of whether they have them or not, that sounds cool as shit and I want that!" A special unit of 2,000 trained monkeys that we can send anywhere in the world to fight evil and make children laugh? Duh! Despite vigorous protests from my Cabinet, I put into motion Operation Primate Speargun. For one year, a special unit of 2,000 wild monkeys trained side by side with the 82nd Airborne down at Fort Bragg in total secrecy. In order to ensure a maximum covert operation, most of the training was done at night. I was heavily invested in the unit, so I'd often fly down to participate in field exercises, and one of the things I noticed during the exercises was that many of the monkeys would simply run off into the woods, randomly shooting their spearguns at each other or inanimate objects. So I asked my field commanders, I said, "How often had this been happening?" And they said that this type of thing had happened every single time. So then I asked a tough question, "Why do you think it's happening?" The Major said that his guess was because they were wild monkeys, and that they as soldiers didn't have the proper training to work with them. So I looked at him right in the eye, and I said, "But we're gonna get there, right?" He said, "I doubt it, Sir." I said, "Well, hold on, let me ask you this. Are they at least entertaining the children?" He said he'd have no idea of knowing, but that his guess would be no, considering it was a top secret operation and no one knew the monkeys were there, especially the children. At the end of exercises, all but 40 monkeys had run off into the North Carolina woods. Speargun attacks along the I-95 corridor have increased 1,000 percent in that time. So let me just tell you this: if you're planning a car trip down to Disney World, don't stop at the rest stops, okay? 'Cause there's a 50-50 chance a malnourished monkey is gonna pop up out of a toilet, shoot you in the face with a speargun. But I could give a shit, you know? It's the Tiger Woods guy's problem now!

"Oh, Brownie"[edit]

[talking with Michael D. Brown.] Remember when I finally flew out to see the damage done by Hurricane Katrina, and when I landed I wasn't even in New Orleans? That's right, it was Mobile, Alabama. And I said you were doing a heck of a job? That was funny. That's right, because you weren't doing a heck of a job! You were doing the opposite of a heck of a job! [affectionately] Oh, Brownie...

Sleeping at Night[edit]

The bottom line is, can you go to bed at night knowing the decisions you have made. And I know I can. Partly because I'm a really good sleeper. I just like to sleep.

External links[edit]

Wikipedia
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