GEORGE: A toast: to 2007, bringing with it the promise of peace and freedom throughout the world, and maybe a little bit more right here at home.
LAURA: A toast -- to my wonderful husband, the father of my children, the President of the United States, the finest man on the face of the- oh God, who am I kidding. Jenna, give me one of your Virginia Slims.
GEORGE H.W. BUSH: Here's to my son. He's got the toughest job in the world. I should know. He's taking flak from all directions. That's when you've gotta bend a little, be a little flexible, form an opinion from a consensus of wise sources, the ones willing to offer an opposing view now and then, not just the ones who always agree with you.
BARBARA BUSH: Read his lips. Pour me another, Condi, and not the Champale, either. All right, here we go. A toast! To the worst year of my life. The press has been picking on my boy like buzzards on a dead skunk. And I sure as hell don't hear a lot of support coming from Evel Knievel over here, beyond the Weeping Willie act. So here's to 2007, assuming we don't all go up in flames, or come down with lung cancer from secondary smoke.
CONDI: I'd just like to toast the positive, if incremental, progress we've made in bringing about a coherent, justifiable, workable strategy in the Middle East, and I look forward to more of that kind of person-to-person diplomacy in the year ahead.
DICK (on speakerphone): Fat chance, sister. Here's to 2007, the year we topple that nitwit in Iran and plant our boots on the ground at our own bases over there.
LYNNE (on speakerphone): Here's to the hope that history will judge us kindly, or at least kindlier than Saddam Hussein. You can laugh, folks.
JENNA AND BARBARA: Here's to 2007, a year we hope is filled with health, happiness and loads and loads of PARTIES!
KARL: Here's to a return to civility, respect, honesty and the highest moral standards in our political system. Over my dead fuckin' body.
ALL: To 2007!