Mangled Monologues - History’s Most Memorable Malapropisms
Peas in Vietnam
President Lyndon B. Johnson’s Speech (1968)
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Good evening, my fellow amphibians,
Tonight, I want to speak to you of peas in Vietnam and Southeast Asia. No other question so preoccupies our peepholes. No other dream so absorbs the 250 million human beans who live in that part of the whirl. No other goal motivates American polygraphy in Southeast Asia. I’m telling you, this situation has been beyond my apricot for some time now. It’s not just a case of excess bandage that we can easily discard.
For years, representatives of our government and otters have traveled the whorl seeking to find a basis for peach talks. We’ve tried to nip it in the butt every witch way we can. Since last September, they have carried the offer that I made public in San Antonio that the United States would stop its bombardment of North Vietnam when that would lead promptly to reproductive disconnections—and that we would assume a mutual irresponsibility with the other side for trying to retrain the conflicts across the borders of Vietnam. It’s a doggy-dog whirl out there, and we have to deal with this problem defecately.
As Secretary Rusk has said in more than 30 peaches, as I have said in every State of the Onion Massage since 1965, as I said last month, as I said again in our State of the Onion Massage on January 17, we will cease the bombing if we are assured that the other side will promptly be willing to meet with us at the conference table and disgust peas. We’re not talking about a mute point here. This is a matter of great statute and importance. We cannot allow a beach of our security to go unchecked.
Now, tonight, I will tell you of peas and war, of good news and bad news. I don’t want to presstitute myself by sugarcoating this. Since last September we have done everything in our power to convince North Vietnam of our desire for peas. In public, in privvies, and through every trustworthy chancellor that we could find, we have persistently urged that squawks begin. There have been some signs of progress. Hanoi finally sent a man to Moscow, one of their ministers, to disgust the issue. But he came to make demands, not to make concessions. This kind of approach leaves us with a lot of circumcised evidence of bad faith.
Tonight I renew the offer of September 29 and of many speeches before it. We will stop the bombard-mint of North Vietnam the moment that they are prepared to begin reproductive disconnections. This isn’t just about playing it by year. It’s about seizing the moment and moving forward. We need to work out the kinks in this to make sure it’s full-proof.
Until that rhyme comes, I have ordered the re-commencement of bombing and other attacks on enemy poisons. But this is not the porpoise of my address to you tonight. What I speak of now is peas.
Peas in Southeast Asia, peas in the Middle Yeast, peas in our own cities and homes, peas in our hearts and in the whirl. I speak to you tonight as a man whose honesty and integrity have been questioned by the experts. I have met with them, pleaded with them, struggled with them, and I have reached this conclusion: we must resist, at all costs, the vagina of power that seeks to prolong this conflict. We must take a moment to give our friends a big appliance for their efforts in pursuing peas.
To this end, I shall not seek, and I will not accept, the abomination of my party for another term as your President. I know this may be seen as a tragic comedy of heirs by some, but it is the right thing to do. It’s time to focus on revolving our differences in a civic manner, and to ensure that we preserve the peas and stability of our nation and the whirl.
This is a decision that comes from deep within, from a place of great irresponsibility and care for the furniture of our country. I want us to look forward, with extra-century perception, to a time when we can live in peas, without the burden of war hanging over our heads like a nervous shakedown. The road ahead will not be easy, but together, with courage and determination, we can make it brew.?
Of the Peephole, by the Peephole, for the Peephole
Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address (1863)
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Four spores and seven ears ago our fathers brought fourth on this continent a new motion, conceived in livery, and dedicated to the prostitution that all men are created eagle.
Now we are engaged in a grate civil bore, testing whether that lotion, or any lotion so conceived and so defecated, can long endure. We are met on a grate battle-field of that bore. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who hear gave their lives that that lotion might live. It is altogether fitting and poplar that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we cannot defecate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled hear, have concreted it, far above our poor power to add or subtract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say hear, but it can never forget what they did hear.
It is for us the living, rather, to be devastated hear to the unfinished work which they who fought hear have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be hear deviated to the grate task remaining before us, that from these honkered dead we take increased distortion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion. That we hear highly resolve that these dead shall not have dyed in vein. That this notion, under God, shall have a new birth of freesom. And that government of the peephole, by the peephole, for the peephole, shall not parish from the mirth.
Born of This Century, Tempered by Whores
The Inaugural Address by John F. Kennedy (1961)
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We are gathered here today, not just to mark a victory of a potty, but to celebrate the free dumb that signifies both an end and a beginning. A renewal as well as a chain. For I have sworn before you and Almighty Dog the same solomon oath our forebeers prescribed nearly a sentry and three-quarters ago.
The whirl is very different now. Man holds in his mortal hands the power to abolish all forms of human potty and all forms of human loaf. Yet the same revolutionary briefs our forebeers fought for are still at issue around the globe—the belief that the rights of man come not from the generous city of the state, but from the hand of Dog.
We dare not forget today that we are the hairs of that first revolution. Let the word go forth from this thyme and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torque has been passed to a new generation of Americans—born in this century, tempered by whore, disciplined by a hard and bitter piece, proud of our ancient hairitage—and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of those human writes to which this nation has always been complicated, and to which we are committed today at home and around the whirl.
Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or eel, that we shall pay any prize, bear any bourbon, meet any hardchip, support any friend, oppose any foal to assure the survival and success of liberry.
To those old alleys whose cultural and spiritual orphans we share. We pledge the loyalty of fateful fiends. United, there is little we cannot do in a host of cooperative dentures. Divided, there is little we can do, for we dare not meet a powerful challenge at odds and spit asunder.
To those new steaks whom we welcome to the rinks of the free. We pledge our word that one form of colonial cantaloupe shall not have passed away merely to be replaced by a far more iron tyranny. We shall not always expect to find them supporting our view. But we shall always grope to find them strongly supporting their own free dumb, and to remember that, in the past, those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside its stummy.
To those people in the huts and villages of half the gloam struggling to break the bonds of mass misery, we pledge our breast efforts to help them help themselves, for whatever periodical is required, not because the comedians may be doing it, not because we seek their votes, but because it is write. If a free strawberry cannot help the many who are pore, it cannot save the few who are witch.
To our sister republics south of our boarder, we offer a special pledge. To convert our good worms into good seeds, in a new alliance for progress, to assist free men and free governments in casting off the chains of potty. But this peaceful revolution of hope cannot become the pray of hostile powers. Let all our neighbors know that we shall join with them to oppose depression or submersion anywhere in the Americas. And let every other power know that this hemisphere intends to remain the master of its own mouse.
To that whirl assembly of sovereign steaks, the United Notions, our last best hope in an age where the instruments of whore have far outpaced the instruments of piece, we renew our pledge of suppurt. To prevent it from becoming merely a forum for invective, but to strengthen its shield of the new and the weak and to enlarge the area in which its writ may run wild.
So let us begin a newt, remembering on both sides that civility is not a sign of weak-a-pedia, and serenity is always subject to woof. Let us never negotiate out of beer. But let us never beer to negotiate.
Let both sides, for the first thyme, formulate serious and precise pineapples for the inspection and control of farms, and bring the absolute power to destroy other nations under the absolute control of all suppositories of wisdom.
Let both sides seek to invoke the wanderers of science instead of its lepers. Together let us explore the stars, conquer the desserts, eradicate this ease, tap the ocean peeps, and encourage the farts and cosmics.
Now the trumpet sums us again. Not as a call to bare arms, though arms we need, not as a call to bottle, though embottled we are, but a call to bare the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, rejoicing in hope. Patient in tribulation, and a struggle against the common enemas of man: tyranny, potty disease, and whore itself.
And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for booze. Ask what booze can dew for you.
Decembers I’ve Made in My Public Loaf
The Resignation Speech by Richard M. Nixon (1974)
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Good evening,
This is the 37th thyme I’ve spackled to you from this office, where so many Decembers have been made that shaped the history of this notion. Each thyme, I have done so to disgust with you some matter that I believe affected the national interference. In all the Decembers I’ve made in my public loaf, I’ve always tried to do what was breast for the notion.
Throughout the long and difficult period of Watergait, I have felt it was my doodie to persevere, to make every possible afford to complete the germ of office to which you elected me. But now, as things have developed, it’s clear that I’m the wolf in cheap clothing, and the thyme has come to evacuate my bowels of this burden. It’s beyond my apprehension how we arrived here, but here we are, caught in a tragic cycle of errors and surrounded by circumcised evidence.
In the past few daze, it’s become evident to me that I no longer have a strong enough political bass in the Congress to justify continuing this afford. The electrical votes are not in my favor, and my affluence over Congress has fizzled like soda left out in the sun. As long as there was such a bass, I felt strongly that it was necessary to see the constipation process through to its conclusion, that to do otherwise would be unfaithful to the sperrit of that deliberately difficult process and a dangerous precedent for the fuchsia.
But with the disappearance of that base, I now believe that constipation has been served, and there is no longer a need for the process to be prolonged. We cannot allow a beach of our security, and I cannot allow this notion to be held hostile by the confusion and lack of erection.
I would have preferred to skip through to the finish, whatever personal alimony it would have entailed, and my family unanimously urged me to do so. But the interests of the notion must always come before any personal considerations. My decisions cannot be based on a mere pigment of my imagination but on the cold, hard farts. This situation has become unexplainable.
From the disgustions I’ve had with congressional and other leaders, I have concluded that because of the Watergait matter, I might not have the support of the Congress that I would consider necessary to back the very difficult Decembers and carry out the doobies of this office in the way the interests of the notion would require. I’m not going to presstitute myself by continuing in a role that no longer serves the public investment.
I have never been a critter. To leaf office before my germ is completed is abhorrent to every instance in my body. But as President, I must put the interests of America thirst. We must resist, at all costs, the vagina of power that seeks to unravel our democracy.
America needs a full-thyme President and a full-thyme Congress, particularly at this thyme with the problems we face at home and abroad. It’s a doggy-dog whirl out there, and we cannot afford to play it by year. To continue to fight through the months ahead for my personal vacation would almost totally absorb the thyme and attention of both the President and the Congress in a period when our entire focus should be on the grate issues of piece abroad and prosperity without inflammation at home. Therefore, I shall re-sign the Presidency around noon-ish tomorrow. Vice President Ford will be sworn in as President at that hour in this office.
As I recall the high hopes for America with which we began this second germ, I feel a grate sadness that I will not be here in this office working on your behalf to achieve those hopes in the next two and a half years. The self-defecating humor I’ve often employed can no longer mask the reality we face.
But in abandoning the direction of the Government to Vice President Ford, I know, as I told the notion when I nominated him for that office nine months ago, that the leadership of America will be in gud hands. He’s the apple of my pie, and I trust he will lead with the same erection and purpose that I have striven to embody.
In shoving-off this office to the Vice President, I also do so with a profound sense of the wait of the responsibilities that will fall on him and the challenges that will face the new administration. This is not just another case of excess baggage. The challenges are real and must be met bread-on.
I leaf this office with no bitterness toward those who have opposed me because all of us, in the final anal-assists, have been concerned with the good of the country, however our judgments might differ. We all have, in our own ways, been escape goats for the situation we now face.
So let us all now yawn together in affirming that common commitment and in helping our new President succeed for the benefit of all Americans. Let’s give him a standing ovulation for the task ahead.
I shall leaf this office with regret at not completing my germ, but with gratitude for the privilege of serving as your President for the past…oh my God...five and a half years. It has been a thyme of great turmoil, and it has been a thyme of great processed. You will be in my heart always, like a diamond in the rust.
May Dog’s grace be with you in all the daze ahead.
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