Good evening, my big giant, gooey nation, you big old fleshy Americans, you. It's President Obama here on your television, as you may have guessed, perhaps by my voice or, hey, maybe by the way I look. I am here to talk to you about oil, specifically, oil that is spiraling out farther and farther into the great, blue ocean. Many have blamed me for the oil spill, and I would like to say that, yes, I am to blame, just like I am responsible for your mother dying of cancer (she caught it from me), your girlfriends and boyfriends breaking up with you (cheated on you with me), and that plastic surgeon who gave you a bad nose job (Hey, I thought you would like it). However, I have been trying the best I can to stall this disaster, because I know that preventing oil from spilling was why I was elected. With this in mind, I came up with an invention I like to call the "Obama Soak." Technically God invented it, because I am referring to my body, but I undoubtedly improved it by using it to soak up oil with it. I laid down in the oil, on my belly. Then I began to swim, licking the oil as I went. I ate almost all of it, but, to my shock and dismay, more oil continued to leak out. Ladies and gentleman, there is only so much oil Obama can eat in one day.

I was talking to some oil experts and fishermen the other day, not because I'm on a college seminar, although that is the assumption most people came to. They said, "Why is Obama going on a college seminar, trying to learn more about oil, when there is a major crisis happening?" No, no, America, you see, I was talking to oil experts and fishermen because I waned to know whose ass to kick.

And now I will tell you the results.

First on my list of asses is George W. Bush's ass. Bush is most responsible for this disaster. He has always had something against the Gulf of Mexico. And I have two words for you, America: Hurricane Katrina. There is no doubt in my mind that George W. Bush had bribed the world's weather men into ordering Lady Katrina to strike. "Hello, boys," he probably said to them. "Are you interested in a buck? Because I'm interested in a hurricane, so maybe we could do an even exchange, if you catch what I saying," he probably continued, completing these words of advice with a wink and a Southern smile. I can only imagine the bribery between George W. Bush and BP, and the charm in Bush's voice when he bribed BP. I can hear that Texan twang now in my head, as he says "Hey, BP. Interested in losing...lots and LOTS of money? More money than you could ever imagine?" George W. Bush, you better watch out, because your smooth talking won't help you now. I am kicking your ass.

I am going to kick Sarah Palin's ass. She is confusing me. She says I should kick the asses of the environmentalists. But I like their asses...they are so good and pure. She says the radical environmentalists have secretly been running the country for years now. This makes me want to cry. I mean, I thought I was running the country. Am I not running the country, Sarah Palin? Don't ruin this for me, please!

I guess I have to kick the asses of the BP Oil executives. I'll kick these last. I will kick their asses until there are giant holes in their bodies and blood seeps into the Gulf of Mexico, which will give the fish and other sea creatures more liquid to swim in, I think.

I am also going to kick British asses, because I am told that this was their fault. Americans don't just spill things. It's not our way. It's not in our history. I read the book 'Oil Spilled by Americans' and on the first page it says, right off the bat, "I have decided not to continue writing this book because I can't find examples of Americans spilling anything. Instead, be sure to read my next book 'Oil Spilled by British People.' It will be eleven thousand pages." Buying the book was sort of a waste of money, but it did remind me that asses are everywhere, British ones, and they need to be kicked.

I am not going to kick my own ass because that is physically impossible. I suppose if I sat in a chair I could sit on my foot. That would be like kicking my own ass. However, when I begin my ass kicking tour of the world tomorrow, I will be standing up, and too tired to sit on my foot.

Speaking of which, I had better get started. Don't consider this goodbye. If you have an ass, let's just say you will be getting a knock on your door from your favorite United States President very soon.

Thank you, and goodnight.