Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow Americans. Remember me? That's right, it's President Bill Clinton. No spooky holograms, no wooden chairs. But enough about Paul Ryan.
What an honor it is to be back here tonight, in front of you, as plain old Bill, president before that other guy who nobody -- and I mean nobody -- wants to talk about, especially the Republicans. And remember the '90s? That wonderful time when I was president, when everybody was watching The Real World, doing the "Macarena," earning heaping gobs of cash, when our biggest worry was whether or not we'd be spending our budget surplus on tax breaks or NATO Allied Command Operations air strikes against Ken Starr and the old Office of the Independent Council. Back then, we didn't even have cell phones to call those things in. Now we have cell phones and iPhones and GPS and TiVo and all sorts of other newfangled devices. It boggles the mind.
We fought wars, which I told you about several days after we'd won them. We had a strong economy, a booming middle class. It was a time when American prosperity -- and integrity -- was at its peak. We have to ask ourselves, what happened to our country? In eight short years, that man who nobody wants to talk about came along and everything went to hell in a handbasket into a second though somewhat smaller handbasket, faster than you can shluck a hen that's been roostered out by a polecat.
What does that mean? I have no idea. It sure does sound soothing, though, doesn't it?
But you'll have to excuse me. I get emotional, remembering the days of booming middle class prosperity, and my homespun, folksy southern aphorisms fail me sometimes. Also, I've been drinking tequila since about noon.
Boy, you would not believe how much tequila I've been drinking lately! You see, after you're president, people don't really care what you do. Like giving this speech, for example. I didn't even take notes! What's up on the teleprompter? An old episode of Blossom. Next, I think I'll watch Saved by the Bell. Remember Saved by the Bell? All part of a bygone era, when old pro Clinton -- that's what they call me -- used to give speeches while catching up on Perfect Strangers and partaking in my sipping whiskey.
For those of you just joining us at home, we're playing the DNC drinking game. Any time you hear me mix up one of my folksy southern aphorisms, you take a shot.
Where was I? Oh, yes. The presidency. Little-known fact: once you've been president, you can call up people and pretend you still are the president, because you ain't lying. You once were the president, and "were" and "to be" are second cousins -- not distant enough to marry, but close enough to call up the back line at NATO Allied Command Operations and order an air strike against Ken Starr and the Office of the Independent Counsel.
But enough about me and my presidency. I'm here in wholehearted support of our candidate, President Barack Obama. The man is a visionary. Whether it's foreign policy, fiscal responsibility, appointing Eva Longoria as the Obama campaign co-chair, I respect and admire the many decisions he's made on the difficult road. Did I mention Eva Longoria's his campaign co-chair? I mean, I could never have done that during my administration!
Now, some of you might think I'd be mad or angry at President Obama. This guy! Just because he won the primaries back in 2008, despite everything I was telling you about my wife, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, being able to stand up to the Republicans, thereby avoiding the past four years of perpetual gridlock and stagnation, thus leading us to a sounder future. Hell, I'd put good money on her being able to take Eric Cantor in a fistfight. Bipartisan compromises? She'd have them hollering like a stuck pig with an axe to grind come the Judgment Day. You at home, take a shot.
Am I mad? Naw. She's on the road, traveling to places like Myanmar and Japan and Tokyo. Is Tokyo in Japan? You can bet all the molasses in your auntie's sweet pecan pie it is. And didn't I just mix up one of my folksy southern aphorisms? You at home, take another shot.
By now, you'll probably notice that I'm swerving up here at the podium. In my own defense, podiums can be tricky things. You should see Carville when he's drunk. Man cannot hold his booze, I tell you.
Now, I'm supposed to be up here giving you all sorts of facts and figures about the economy, and the recovery, and how we're slowly but surely moving forward into an era of hope and change. But I'm not going to do that. Instead, I'm going to sing me a couple verses of "Louie Louie." Eva Longoria, this one goes out to you.