Clips from an aborted presidency (not coming soon to a DVD store near you):

“Who’s that silly-ass floozy?—I’m the damn kid’s ma, I’d know his little pecker anywhere.”

“Now Bar, hold yer horses—boy’s gotta learn t’sit on eveyone’s lap, like that department store Santa we sicc’d him on last year … “

“You mean Billy Bob ‘Reprobate’ Thornton?—another of your damn fool notions, jes’ look what he done to our poor babe, drinkin’ an’ cussin’ an’ whatnot … ”

“Either that or it’s Dick Cheney babysittin’ again, so which is worse?—them shifty eyes’d scare the bejeezus outta anyone, includin’ yours truly.”

“Well, if it weren’t for all this ‘former First Lady’ hoo-hah, I’d wipe the damn floor with his smirkin’ mug—yo bartender, another round and a half for this ol’ party pussy.”

“You mean glowerin’, Dick Cheney glowers.”

“Glower, smirk, same damn difference … and don’t you go throwin’ $64 New Haven adjectives at me, you scum-suckin’ weasel, else i’ll kick your birthday butt outta that aeroplane myself.”

“Aww, now Bar … “

“Out the cargo door, then—whammo!—like fresh pigeon doo all over. Speakin’ of which: is that pickaninny hussy feelin’ up our junior?”

“Looks like he’s makin’ a little headway there his own self.”

“Typical, you smut-minded men … if it weren’t fer that daughter-in-law of ours—what’serface again? … “

“Laura … a gelding knife to the gonads, truth be known.”

“… keepin’ him on the straight an’ narrow, our poor boy’d be up shit avenue still—all the same a fine young whippet, always thinkin’ an’ schemin’ up a storm.”

“Got good genes there–from your side, ‘course, my belladonna princess.”

“O Herb Walker chile’, you jes’ sayin’ that to flatter this ol’ cactus—now what say we go home an’ whoop around a bit?”

“Yass’m … only this time I gets to wear the Catgirl outfit—spike heels and patent leather thong … yee-hawww!”