Which isn't to say I don't appreciate Hillary...I do. If not for the ice-water coursing through her veins, I'd be pumping gas into farm equipment in Hope, Arkansas, and she'd be married to the President.

So, let me set the record straight. I dodged the draft, hid FBI files, smoked dope, flipped Whitewater property, set up a new Korean wing in the White House, fired the travel staff, paid hush money to Hubbell, sold the Lincoln bedroom like an upscale Motel 6, and grabbed every ass that entered the Oval Office.

Got it? Good.

Six years ago, there's not a man, woman, or child who didn't know I was as horny as Woody Allen. But you elected me anyway, which turned out to be a good move on your part. Your other choice was Bush, an aging baseball player and part-time resident of some place called "Kennebunkport" who thought he could bomb his way into the White House.

Before him, it was Reagan, who left the office with the same Alzheimer's he came in with.

There was Carter before him who brought you a 17% prime interest rate, smiling the whole time like his lithium drip had just kicked in.

Nixon before that coined, but never really understood, the concept of 'plausible deniability,' and almost got a one-way ticket to San Clemente for his crackerjack style of governing.

Johnson was an inbred, power-mad war criminal whose major contribution to American society was Agent Orange.

And John Kennedy, who was a little naughty himself, didn't hang around long enough for America to spot that curious atavistic tic for "beaver-wrestling" shared by at least a dozen former residents of the White House.

Which brings me back to my point. Since I have been strumming the banjo here at the White House, government is doing more for less. The budget is balanced for the first time since JFK did a one gun salute to Marilyn, a fact the press didn't seem to care about, evidently.

Unemployment is so low today a blind felon can get a job as a night-watchman. And the stock market is higher than a D-student on a full gram of dumb-dust, and anyone with a degree from a junior college who can spell 'internet' has enough money to ponder the annual maintenance cost of his boat, instead of where his or her next meal is coming from.

Bottom line: I'm running a country here and I'm doing it with my pecker showing. What I'm asking for is your support, not a date with your daughter... unless, of course, she's a hotty with thin ankles, and then I'd like to discuss it.

In the meantime, think about where you are today and what kind of life you're living before you get too interested in where I'm parking the Presidential limousine.

Thank you. Good night and God bless America.