Beating Jeanette Jenkins

My friends, America is beset with enemies. You'll find them everywhere from Venezuela in the Middle East to Spain in South America to the newsrooms of our nation and standing next to me in debates.

The next president needs to be a man who has a proven record of dealing harshly with our enemies. I am that man.

I proved it a couple of years ago, when I faced down an enemy named Jeanette Jenkins in a hallway just outside my office. She was there to ask me about servicemen missing in Vietnam. Her uncle was one.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end the moment I saw her. I sensed an evil inside her, an evil that would prompt her to ask me an uncomfortable question.

But it was more than a feeling, really, because I observed physical clues that put me on edge. She was a slight woman, the size of a Viet Cong cadre. Looking at her, I saw flashes of her true being; suddenly she'd appear in black pajamas and a conical hat and, then, just as suddenly, she'd switch back to looking like Jane Happy Meal, your average American woman. She was like one of those witches Sarah is always warning me about.

So I was ready when she stepped out in front of me to ask her evil question. I struck her before she could form the fist evil consonant on her lips. I hit her hard, knocking her against the wall with such force that the sound of it "resonated in the hallway."

That my fellow prisoners, is how I'll treat all of America's enemies. The Ayatollah of Spain, the Pope of Venezuela, the veteran's widow from Topeka: they shall all feel the wrath of my angry hand.