Joe Biden’s Inaugural Address

"I admit it, my fellow Belgians: I am not playing with a full deck."

Bruce Bawer is a Shillman Fellow at the Freedom Center and the author of many books, including While Europe Slept and Surrender: Appeasing Islam, Sacrificing Freedom.

Introductory note: After his latest round of primary triumphs, not only is Joe Biden confident that he will receive the Democratic nomination for president; he is so certain that he will be elected in November that he has already written his inaugural address. Someone close to the Biden campaign leaked the text of the speech to me, and the editors of Front Page Magazine have decided that it is in the public interest to publish it in its entirety. Okay, full disclosure: the person who leaked the text to me was Biden himself, who actually thought he was handing me a sandwich. – B.B.

President McKinley, Vice President Tyler, King Vidor, Queen Latifah, Duke Ellington, Earl Warren, Baron Trump, Judge Reinhold, ladies and gentlemen and others: this is a day that will live in infamy.

Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. Four score and seven years ago I was born in the house my father built, although I can’t recall the address. Today it seems to me providential that Fate should have chosen Braunau on the Inn as my birthplace.

You may have gathered that an iron curtain has descended upon my brain. The mystic chords of my memory are on the fritz and then some. I have slipped the surly bonds of sanity. Old soldiers never die, they just fade away, and though I was never a soldier I am definitely headed south, cerebrum-wise.

But don’t cry for me, Argentina. Ich bin ein Hamburger. And a Frankfurter. And a spring roll. With Bosco! Mmm, Bosco!

I will little note nor long remember what I say here. In fact I’ve already forgotten what I’m saying now and what I’ll say next. I can’t tell my wife from my sister, which was embarrassing onstage and even more embarrassing when we were staying at a hotel one night on the campaign trail.

Not to put too fine a point on it, I’m daffy. I’m dotty. I’m gaga. Lady Gaga! Ra-ra-ah-ah-ah! Roma-roma-ma! Gaga, ooh la-la!

Since my mind has gone totally blank, I have nothing to offer but Blood, Sweat and Tears. Not to mention the Rolling Stones, Aerosmith, the Nicholas Brothers, the Casa Loma Orchestra, and the Beach Boys.

Yes, once more onto the beach, dear friends! Bring your surfboards. Surfin’ USA! I wish you all could be California girls. Even the boys! And the trans boys and girls! Welcome to the Hotel California! Beach Blanket Bingo!

The beaches! Men of Athens, I vow to you this day that I shall fight on the beaches, I shall fight on the landing grounds, I shall fight in the fields and in the streets, I shall fight in the hills, against all the neurologists who have begged me not to accept the office of president of these United States of Brazil. I will fight no more forever!

I admit it, my fellow Belgians. I am not playing with a full deck. The lights are on but nobody’s home. The elevator is no longer going to the top floor, and it was never a particularly tall building to begin with.

But that doesn’t matter to me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. With Corn Pop. And Cocoa Pops. That would be Mount Everest, of course, the peak of which was first reached by my dear friend Hillary Clinton.

Granted, I have the body of a weak, feeble woman. But I have the heart and stomach of a king – and of a King of England, too! And I will not let them crucify mankind upon a cross of gold! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me the blue plate special with fries. French fries! Vive le Québec libre!

By the end of this decade we will send a man to Poughkeepsie. Have you seen the hair on my legs? I have a dream that one day in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers, and I will be able to fondle all of them!

Now, you may want to know whether or not your new President is a crook. Well, I am a crook. Let every nation know that I will oppose any friend and support any foe to assure their survival and success, provided one of my relatives gets a piece of the action. Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what your new president can do for Burisma.    

Mr. Gorbachev, give me liberty or give me… you know the, you know the thing!

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Photo by Gage Skidmore


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