Whitie has a long tradition of usurping things that belong to us: Rock'n'Roll, the Jew-fro, Halle Berry's fine self. But what I just found out is a whole new level of hijacking.

The next valedictorian of my alma mater Morehouse's graduating class is going to be some white dude! (By alma mater, I of course mean metaphorically -- I dropped out of Brooklyn college to tour with James Brown and never graduated college.)

And guess who's memory this kid evoked when justifying why he accepted the honor:

"What Morehouse stands for at the end of the day, and what Dr. King epitomized, it's not about black or white, it's about the content of [a person's] character. It's about me, representing Morehouse in that light -- not as a white man or a black man."

Ick! Gag me. It's always MLK they quote. Well I took the time to survey a few other influential black leaders and am happy to report back their quotes. (Ed. note: Since all of these sources were dead, I took the liberty of guessing what their responses would be.)

Frederick Douglas: "I had to sneak into a shed to learn how to read. Did this guy face any hardships like that? Didn't think so."

Nat Turner (slave rebellion leader): "That rebellion may have been a bad idea. But not as bad of an idea as letting this white kid be valeDICKtorian."

My friends, I think this is the most incredible news story I have ever read. Caution: As you read this, you may obtain an erection. I certainly did.

Yves Rossy, a man in Switzerland, has designed a hang-glider rocket that shoots him through the sky.  He has essentially become a flying demon wreaking havoc from the air.

On a recent display, Rossy tipped his wings flipped onto his back and leveled out again, executing a perfect 360-degree roll. After executing that awesome maneuver, he told the press, “That was to impress the girls.” He impressed the girls and also this Putin.  (Again, I am implying that I had an erection.)   

I am inviting Yves Rossy to Russia where we will meet in the presidential office to discuss this new technology. I will send Medvedev out to the lobby, and he can color until our business is complete. (Medvedev always asks me if he can hang his drawings on the wall near the desk. I say yes, but when he puts them up I grab them and rip them in half. I do it because I find the sad look in his eyes so amusing.)

On this 60th anniversary of the modern state of the israelites, let me take a moment to say a few nice words about these jews.

Dear Jews -- you have done some good things, Osama is big enough to admit this. I like your comedy. That Seinfeld and his crazy situations! How long will we have to stand in this line for chinese food? Where is my car in this parking garage, I cannot find it! Oh no, my girlfriend has man hands! I watch this Seinfeld every time he is on, which is a lot.

Other stuff I like about jews:

• Knishes. The perfect food for fleeing through the desert, they come in their own wrapper, and provide plenty of tasty starchy calories.
• Bob Dylan. He isn't always jewish but he is best when he is.
• Hava Nagila. Once you hear this song you cannot stop from humming it all the day long. It is so happy.

As you could probably imagine, the job of president of the United States is a darned boring one, with not much to do. In previous years, I mostly just sit around at my big old desk for a bunch of hours, reorganizing files, lookin' real busy, waitin' for Dick or Condi to come in and tell me that shit's okay and I don't gotta worry. And then I would spend the afternoon playing some golf.

But then someone pointed out that with all the hurricanes and the war and the terrorism and the scandals and the economy and the other scandals, it wouldn't look so good on the teevee for folks to see reporters sticking a microphone in my face asking me about all that tragic shit and I'm just sittin' pretty in a golf cart talkin' bout puttin'.

So I got off the course and onto the Interwebs. And lemme tell you, there's a lot of agitated  people out there, and boy do they like to type about it! If I didn't know any better, I'd think that the Interweb was set up by and large to allow angry people to anonymously call me a "fascist douche-bag who is totally ruining America." Maybe it was.

But now I gotta check with my security guys about whether we can do anything about it, because this Interweb, well, it's gettin' way out of hand. I mean, it's one thing if some pimple-faced prick in his basement calls me "an illiterate cowboy Hitler pigfuck" on some Interweb site. But when we got a whole buttload of people goin on to this Interwebs and typin' bout how I "drink the blood of Iraqi children" and how my foreign policy strategy "is basically like a retarded kid hopped up on pixie sticks playing whack-a-mole with a sledgehammer", I take great offense to that. Whack-a-mole is a great American pastime and should not be used for political attackery.

I made some predictions about the year 2013 in a speech today -- predictions that some are calling bold and others are saying, "sounds like they were made using a Magic 8 Ball."

Will Osama bin Laden be dead: most likely. Will Afghanistan be rid of the Taliban: my sources say -- Damn! It got caught in the middle. Let me just shake it again. Ok--no. My sources say no.

Do I really believe any of this? Of course not. The Mayan calender ends on December 21st, 2012 at which point a massive global cataclysm will cleanse the Earth of most life. Any survivors will break into primitive tribal bands and nationalistic boundaries will become obsolete. The war in Iraq will no longer be relevant. But as president you can be sure that I will launch a heavy offensive around Dec. 16th 2012, so if some arbiter had to decide who came out on top, we'll finish with a flurry of jabs right as the bell rings.

I won't let the tribes occupying the Americas proceed into the new dark times with an inferiority complex about their ancestors.