The Absolutely Last Blagojevich Sketch

Dateline: Washington, DC. After a year and a half stand-off, the U.S. Department of Justice announced that Governor Rod (F___ing) Blagojevich would be resigning. Under a special plea bargain arrangement, the governor agreed to give up his office, pay a million dollar fine, and be forced to live an extra 30 days in Springfield, Illinois. All charges against the governor, including corruption, bribery, and using his anytime minutes to say the F-word, have been dropped. The plea was signed only after the White House agreed to appoint Governor Blagojevich to the post of U.S. Ambassador to the Vatican.

(RB on the phone.)

RB:
Yuh, give me Father Abruzzo. What’s his extension? How the f___ am I supposed to know? Is it my fault they all look alike? He’s the short Italian one. Who’s calling? Tell him it’s the United States of F___ing America. Ambassador Blagojevich. Rhymes with Annoying Bitch. Think of your wife. Oh that’s right, you guys can’t get married. Oh. Sorry about that, Sister.

. . . . .

Is this Father Abruzzo? Hey padre, what’s the word? No, that’s my favorite word, not yours, heh heh heh. Hey, it was great having you at our big blowout at the embassy last week. F___, you guys can drink. Yuh, I guess it is part of the job. So listen, the staff told me the next day that the sterling silver gravy boat they use for the marinara was missing. You know anything about that?

. . . . .

Oh no, no, of course not. I’m not accusing you of anything. A man is innocent until proven guilty. Sometimes a lot longer than that. I just wanted you to know that I don’t f___ing give things away, you know what I mean? I don’t give anything the f___ away.

. . . . .

Yuh, whatever. So Father, the reason I called is that U.S. policy on international assistance for family planning is up for review. And I know the Vatican doesn’t want to see us throwing our money around buying bags for all these developing countries. You don’t want us to be buying bags, am I right?

. . . . .

Yuh, condoms, exactly. See we stopped doing it with Bush. And now we’re like eight billion condoms behind the pace. So we’re inclined to haul ass and move these rubbers, you know? Yes, Father, I know. Children are a gift from God. I think mine came from someplace else, but in general I’m sure they’re from God. I totally agree.

. . . . .

No, Father, we’re not exporting sex education. Absolutely not. No, no, no. You mean that school you visited in Ghana where we were telling those teenagers what to do if they get to second base? No, we were teaching them how to play baseball. Yuh, baseball. No, that’s not what the kids call it now. It’s a game. It’s what Americans do. No, it’s not the only thing we think about. Jesus Christ.

. . . . .

I’m sorry, okay? Forget about that, Father. Let’s go back to the rubbers. Just concentrate on the rubbers. See moving these rubbers is definitely U.S. policy. But the boss is kind of busy with other matters, if you know what I mean. So that gives me some room to maneuver. I can tell my friends to speed up the rubbers or slow them down, you know? It all depends on what you can afford.

. . . . .

Well Father, this is a big f___ing thing. I’m not going to f___ing give it away. I’m going to get something for it.

. . . . .

Father, Father, Father. You got millions of tourists walking through St. Peter’s every day. They’re buying those beads, those postcards, those chocolate crucifixes. What am I, f___ing stupid? I deserve a piece of that.

. . . . .

Well then what are you going to give me for stopping the rubbers?

. . . . .

Your appreciation? Your f___ing appreciation? Are you f___ing kidding me?
. . . . .

Okay, then what can you do for my wife? Seriously, what can you do for her? Am I talking about money? What the f___ do you think I’m talking about? Give my wife a f___ing job doing whatever the f___ you guys do.

. . . . .

What do you mean, what the f___ can she do? She can’t do f___ing anything. What difference does that make?

. . . . .

You have someone from the State Department listening in on this call? Really. Like who. Oh.

. . . . .

You know your trouble Hillary? You just can’t take a f___ing joke.

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