"My dear, Fellow Citizens of Libya, and All you Rotting Dogs with Smelly Coats and Fleas, who want me out:
First of all, who stole my Girl Scout cookies? I distinctly remember leaving them on the table, next to my rocket launcher. I have searched the entire house--plus, every house in the area-- and I know that it’s none of my trusted assistants who committed this heinous act, because I killed them all.
Anyway, I am officially announcing a “no harm your fowl” policy, as regards the immediate return of my Thin Mints. There will be no questions asked. Seriously. There never are! Hah! See, I can be funny, when I want to be.
Okay. Back to the issue: Many of you seem to have portrayed me as a tyrant. Well, I am not a tyrant. The guy in Afghanistan, that guy is a tyrant--with his green outfit that he always wears. Those are my curtains, I tell you. I spit on my curtains.
Do this uniform look green? NO. It does not.
And I say to you, my fellow Libyans, I will not tolerate any further fringe elements in this great country of mine! Ours, I mean.
This is what I have come to discuss with you tonight, in our moment of great crisis. I firmly believe the Denver Nuggets gave away the store, by trading Carmello to the Knicks--and read my lips: I will NOT give away the store! NOT! STORE!!!
Sorry, my passion persists for my countrymen, and the accusations which come from the American dogs who accuse me are wrong. I will take on this man, this 'Obama' man, one-on-one--anytime, on my home court--and we will then see who is ready to win, and who is ready to kill the winner. That'd be me!
Libya has a rich history of being poor.
I have done my best to preserve that history, and keep the outside forces of wealth from infecting the lives of everyday Libyans, who work hard not to make too much money, which as the world knows, is the root of all evil. THIS is why I keep the money. I am a money martyr, like a money market, only not.
I am the person invested in maintaining the type of Libya which other countries depend upon, not just for oil, but for enemies. Without enemies, there is no motivation. I have motivated every western nation on the planet. The planet should thank me, for my motivation. Right now, what I am doing? This is motivational speaking, my friends! Joel Osteen is nothing, next to me! His wife's okay--I once saw them on Larry King--but they should run a car dealership, compared to me!
And speaking of hollandaise sauce, I will make of every coward this kind of salad dressing! This I will do, before I will let them sing “The Halls of Montezuma” on the shores of Tripoli, I tell you!!!
By the way, check out this shirt. How many of you have pictures of Nassar on your shirt, eh? I'll give you a little tip: Go to SoHo, just south of where that Tower Records used to be, on Broadway. There'a a teeny-tiny shop there, and they sell all kinds of uniforms, and even toy airplane bombers! I sometimes get ideas for my real bombers from them.
People mock my title, and ask me how I got to be a 'Colonel.'
Well, I was inspired by a great man once. I was visiting my friend Chairman Mao in China... (I almost called myself 'Chairman Mo,' but then I heard that some guy at Warner Bros. Records had taken that one. )
Anyway, as the Chairman and myself looked across the great...what is it?
...the 'Ten Men Square', I think....
There was a gigantic picture of Chairman Mao there, but I noticed another gigantic picture, right across the square, which I must say was actually rectangular, if you ask me.
It was beautiful.
(The gigantic picture of the other man, I mean.)
Red and white, yet so pure....
A happy man, with a happy white hat.
I asked about the man in this gigantic picture, which was even bigger than Mao’s.
“Who is this man?” I asked.
“That is the man from Kentucky,” they told me, and they related the famous proverb about the man with the herbs, and everything he did for the chickens, and then they said,
“...It’s the Colonel!”
Well, there you have the story. I am now a Colonel, too!
And if he was 'original'…I am crispy.
This is my struggle. Oh, there are occasional bouts with the diarrheas, but those are small battles, by comparison. Although, I must say the quality of those chocolate covered macadamia nuts from Honolulu has gone downhill--and this could account for some of my troubles.
I will let you know now, my plan is simple:
Once I leave the city, I bomb the city. Once I come back…I stop bombing the city. See?
So, do what you like. I say to you all, "Mubarek THIS!"
All of you who oppose me are on hallucinogenic drugs. I know this, because my entire stash is missing. Again, I say to you: Return it-- no questions asked-- and maybe...hmmmm...a small reward, like I won't cut off your toes before I kill you.
I am the Cal Ripken of dictators, and you will not break my streak!
And to all the ones who have said my speeches are the incoherent ramblings of a mad man, what do you say to me now? Hah?
In closing, I would like to quote a very touching American folksong which I learned as a young man.
"They’re coming to take me away, ha ha
They’re coming to take me away, ha ha
Ha ha, he he, ho, ho, ha ha…
They’re coming to take me away.”
Peace be on your soul. I will kill you all. I love you. Really, I do.
By the way, don’t forget to tip your waitresses and bartenders! I’ll be here two shows nightly…unless I bomb!!!
…get it?
Ha, heh…love ya, Libya!
The Colonel
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Copyright 2011 by Peter Rodman. All Rights Reserved. No portion herein may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without express written permission.
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