Saturday Night Live Transcripts
Season 37: Episode 5
A Message from the Ghost of Moammer Gaddafi
Moammer Gaddafi…..Fred Armisen
Announcer: And now a message from the Ghost of Moammer Gaddafi.
[ dissolve to Moammer Gaddafi in an undisclosed location ]
Moammer Gaddafi: I’m baaaaaaack!! [ he laughs ] How’s it going, America? Man! What a crazy couple of weeks, huh? I don’t know if you guys saw this on the news or on one of the thousands of cell phone videos, but, uh… I got murdered pretty bad last week! [ he laughs ] And I know you’re thinking, you know: “Did they really kill him?” Yeah, trust me — THEY DID! I mean, they really tore me a new one — literally.
But, you know I learned a lot from this experience, so I thought that I, Ghost Gaddafi, would offer you, the living, a few pieces of advice.
First: Never dare people to kill you. As strategies go, “I dare you to kill me” is pretty much the WORST one. [ he laughs ]
Second: No matter how confident you are, no matter how long you are in power, never refer to your people as “rats”. That could really come back to haunt you when you’re trapped in a sewer pipe.
Which brings me to my third point: You can never reason with a mob. You know, these guys came up to me screaming: “We’re going to KILL you, Moammer!” And I’m like: “Bros! Come on, bros! We’re all bros here!” But, yeah, these guys were decidely NOT my bros. I don’t know if you saw the Youtube clips, but… Wow-wow-wee-wah! Yeah. The elevator from “The Shining” called — it wants its BLOOD back!
Anyway, as you might have guessed, I’m in Hell now. [ he looks around ] Which, as you can see, looks pretty much like Libya. But, you know, Hell is not that bad, you know? My friends are here — you know, Saddam… Stalin… the band from those FreeCreditReport.com commercials. They do a gig like every night, you know? Plus, you know, in Hell there’s a lot of dead leopards and tigers, so, in terms of wardrobe, I’m doing okay! [ he laughs ] And, you know, I don’t mnid the heat in Hell, because my face was pretty melty to begin with.
So I just want to say Goodbye to all my closest friends. All the western oil companies… my wingman, Senor ?? … and the American government, which, uh, kept giving me chance after chance despite my numerous atrocities against mankind. I’d like to think they saw something good in me, but it could have just been the oil… I don’t know. Either way, I guess it’s true what they say: “If you’re a horrible dictator who tortures his people, you can only get away with it for, like, 42 years.”
And, of course, a final farewell to my beautiful African princess Condaleeza Rice. I think the poem in my journal said it best: “Condi, Condi, Condi… come over to my condo, condo, condo.”
God bless us, everyone, and “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!”