Oh my gosh.
Quick! Lift the cone of silence! Something has gone terribly awry!
Mister President! Mister President! Are you okay?
The president is a-okay.
No I'm not! Karl! Look over here, you bonehead! It's me. And I sure as heck ain't okay.
President Jambi. I'm so sure.
Secret Service! Secret Service! Secret Service! Secret Service! Secret...
Did someone call for help?
Just a little roughhousing, boys. But thank you so very much for your concern.
George... you sound positively gay.
He's not George, Rummy! I am. The George is me!
How droll. Now if you'll pardon us, O Exalted One, I would like to talk to Reese and my staff about our beloved ally, Sumatra.
But I... I thought we were talking about how to get Jambi to start granting us wishes.
Grrrrr... I smell a rat.
I'm not Jambi! Listen - I'm George Bush and this message was approved by me. Come on, ask me something. Ask me who my father was.
As you can see, it's really quite hopeless. I suggest that we send this particular Genie back to Pee-wee's Playhouse. Preferably C.O.D.
Okay, I've got an idea. I'm going to ask them both a question. This is for the one that looks like Jambi. Where is Osama bin Laden hiding?
How in the blazes am I supposed to know?
Okay. One who looks like President Bush - same question.
Osama? He's the same place he's been for the past four years. Zig-zagging across the Pakistan-Afghanistan border, hiding in the mountains with the local rebels. Let's see... right now he's in a little town called Chitra, about 37.6 kilometers from the Chinese border. In a hidden apartment, at a restaurant by the name of al-Kimitra's Kabob Kafe. Trap door is underneath a purple rug by the cash register.
Good heavens, do you know what this means?
We've got a magical president!
Uh, fellas...

2006, Mark Hoback