Junk from between the sofa cushions

Manhattan Infidel kinda/sorta cried uncle. I s'pose that a threat of Blog War from me is about as scary as a fat kid threatening to snap you with a rubber band.  "It's one of the wide ones!  It could too leave a mark!"  Thanks to those who backed me on this crusade against Wham! and injustice.  

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The pResident spoke many words from his oval orifice last night.  The extent of his suckitude is well documented and I can't think of anything to add right now.  

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Below is a post that has been simmering in drafts for a few days.  Usually when a story idea isn't going anywhere, I just get frustrated and delete 'em without posting.  This is one of those stories.  It isn't very long, it isn't very funny, and the longer it sits the more stale it becomes.  It should just disappear forever, but my inner sadist wants to inflict a little pain right now. So here it is:

NOTE:  Taking a cue from Obama's recent interview on the Today Show, this post makes gratuitous use of the word "ass" in the non-donkey sense.  Consider yourself warned.

 [Elderly Shaolin monk] "Ahh, Turdblossom, we have been expecting you!"

[Obama] "Turdblossom?  Why can't I have a cool name, like 'Grasshopper'?"

[monk] "Name 'Grasshopper' die inglorious death with the man Carradine."

[Obama] "Whoa!  If you think that's a glorious death, then I must be headed for the Hall of Fame!"

[monk, rolling eyes] "Turdblossom, you are distracted.  Must regain focus.  Tell me why you here."

[Obama] "Ain't you been following the news?  The oil spill, Iran, North Korea, Gaza, my poll numbers are staining the toilet bowl, the economy, Michelle just wants to party all the time, I keep slicing my fairway woods, etc, etc.  Everything sucks.  I gotta start kicking ass.  But I don't know whose ass to kick!  I seek the wisdom to know where to start."

[monk] "Wise man say 'best to be ABLE to kick ass before setting off on a mission of asskicking.'  Turdblossom, you are nowhere near ready to begin this."

[Obama, angrily] "Watch what you're saying, old man.  Or I'll have to show you how we do things on the South Side."

[monk, extending open handful of pebbles] "Turdblossom, when you are able to snatch these pebbles from my hand, you will be ready."

[Obama] "Oooh!  I like that shiny one!" 

Obama lunges for the pebbles, but the monk quickly snaps his hand closed, catching Obama's fingertips.

[Obama] "Owww!  Sonuva...!" [shakes hand in pain, pulls out cellphone] "Rahm, have my manicure appointment bumped up to today.  Yeah.  Little problem down here, I'm gonna need it sooner than normal.  K?  Thanks." [hangs up]

[Obama] "That hurt!  What was the point of that?"

[monk] "I try to tell you, Turdblossom, but you no listen.  When you able to snatch the pebbles, you will be ready.  Now we begin the training.  Paint this fence.  No, up and down.  Like this...  Ahh, yes, you are learning already..."

Weeks of training go by, and the oil spill continues to spread...

[Obama] "I think I'm ready to try snatching those pebbles again."

[monk] "Turdblossom, have you read Art of War?"

[Obama] "Nah.  I'm more of a Rules for Radicals kind of guy."

[monk] "Yes, I know.  Had you read Sun-Tzu, you'd have known that the greatest victories are those that are won without even firing a shot.  That is the ancient Chinese tradition."

[Obama] "I don't get it."

[monk] "It is also the modern Chinese tradition.  You see, I have a freshly painted fence, a freshly sanded floor, and a bright shiny car.  And you are still a wuss!  Ha-ha!"