HARTMAN: What's your excuse? OBAMA: Sir, excuse for what, sir? HARTMAN: I'm asking the fucking questions here, Private. Do you understand?! OBAMA: Sir, yes, sir! HARTMAN: Well thank you very much! Can I be in charge for a while? OBAMA: Sir, yes, sir! HARTMAN: Are you shook up? Are you nervous? OBAMA: Sir, I am, sir! HARTMAN: Do I make you nervous? OBAMA: Sir! HARTMAN: Sir, what? Were you about to call me an asshole?! OBAMA: Sir, yes, sir! HARTMAN: How tall are you, Private? OBAMA: Sir, five foot nine, sir! HARTMAN: Five foot nine? I didn't know they stacked shit that high! You trying to squeeze an inch in on me somewhere, huh? OBAMA: Sir, yes, sir. HARTMAN: Bullshit! It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your mama's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress! I think you've been cheated! Where in hell are you from anyway, Private? OBAMA: Sir, Kenya, sir! HARTMAN: Holy dogshit! Kenya! Only camels and goats come from Kenya , Private Obama! And you don't much look like a camel to me, so that kinda narrows it down! Do you suck dicks? OBAMA: Sir, yes sir! HARTMAN: Are you a peter puffer? OBAMA: Sir, yes, sir! HARTMAN: I'll bet you're the kind of guy that would fuck a COUNTRY in the ass and not even have the common courtesy to give it a reacharound! I'll be watching you!