Well, well, well. Stephen Colbert sure was funny at the Correspondent's Dinner, wasn't he?  Mmm hmm. All his talk about how our President doesn't just stand for things he stands on things. Hilarious, right? Well, Mr. Colbert. How would you like it if you not only stood for a prison cell floor, but you also stood on a prison cell floor? Your own! See how what you say can, in capable hands, be turned back against you? Now, you'd probably reply, "Oh! Oh! But I don't stand for prison cell floors whatever that means, so the setup in your comeback isn't apt." And I'd reply, "Right, but Bush doesn't stand for anything, so your joke makes no sense either. In other words, my comeback works on several levels, maybe as many as three." And you'd reply, "Yes, you're right. Also, I can't believe that I put on this coconut bra. It's not funny. Especially here at this funeral. This serious funeral."

I agree, Mr. Colbert (yes, I am pronouncing the "t"). It's not funny. 

Sure, it's imaginary, but that doesn't make up for the fact—you just witnessed it Baileyites—that Mr. Colbert went to a funeral in a coconut bra! I could never imagine better comedians such as Soupy Sales or Jay Leno doing that—even in writing this sentence I don't imagine it; I just see a pink fuzz in my mind's eye. The closest I come is when I attempt this mental exercise with Jon Stewart, host of the wildly inaccurate Daily Show. The pink fuzz opens up a bit, and I picture "Mr." Stewart chuckling to himself as he ties on the coconut bra in his sun-bleached Nova parked outside the funeral home, I see him snapping The Club into place just before climbing out of the offensive contraption, and I picture him approaching the funeral home, but then I see him hesitate and eventually think better of it, clipping the bra off and wiping the coconut dust off his tie as he enters. But not Mr. Colbert. No, he goes all the way in, even kissing the cheek of the dead person's mother with a special joy buzzer for the lips that he invented just for that one instance.

But, as you finally recognized, Mr. Colbert (yes, I am pronouncing the "t"), some things just aren't funny: 9/11 (2001), most drunk driving accidents, other unfunny things, and making fun or your President. Now, I'm sure you'd respond by saying "Well, Mr. McAdams, of course you are mostly correct and very tall, but I'm wondering, wouldn't the First Amendment allow me to tell my ludicrous jokes?"

Did the First Amendment allow citizens in Stalinist Russia to say whatever they wanted? Did it let Cambodians draw anti-Pol Pot cartoons in the newspapers? No. So, why do you think it lets you make fun of your President? Especially this President, the man who has done everything for this country from waging war on terror to expanding the war on terror.

As a respected figure in the press, I was at the dinner, of course...in certain respects, anyway. And I can tell you for certain that Mr. Colbert (forgot to pronounce the "t" that time) simply bombed the entire night. The whale and mashed potatoes on our dinner plates were funnier than him (if, like me, you appreciate the ultra-deadpan delivery style of food products.) As a matter of fact, he should be sued by the correspondents for malpractice. Nothing, aside from what he'd done on "Strangers with Candy," "The Daily Show," and "The Colbert Report," indicated that he would pull this disgusting, offensive, non-funny attack on the undertakers of this country right there in their place of dining.

"Who could have done it better?" you may be asking. Well, me, for one. "What would you uh...what would you say?" Well, I've actually written something, and it's better than Mr. Colbert's corny fare, I can guarantee you that:

Good evening, Mr. President. First Lady, you look lovely. You have the glow of someone who supports the leader of this great country. (Pause for laughter.) If you want something to drink, just speak softly into your table numbers and someone from NSA will be right over with a cocktail. Now, Mr. Bush is my hero because he not only fights for freedom, he fights those who hate freedom. (Pause for laughter.)...

and so on.

Of course, Mr. Colbert's not laughing at my speech because he hates true humor, humor that's not offensive and only asks its audience to sit back and relax and smile. But Mr. Colbert wouldn't know about that, so, from here on out, I'm pronouncing his name, not only with the "t," but also without the "c," the "l," the "o," the "er," and, now, without the "t" (so as it was before), and also without the "b." And I’m adding the sounds of an "a" and an "s" and another "s."