Week IThe door to the Oval Office opens abruptly, and a disquieted Obama looks away from his computer screen with a frown. "Rahm, you just interrupted my first vanity google of the day, so this better be im-por-tant!"
"Sire, the press are outside, demanding a conference!"
"So? Give them an 'I Love You, Too' from me. That should chill them out for a while"
"But, Sire, it's abou..."
[Obama looking forlorn] "I'm on the fourth page of search results, and there are a lot of people saying bad things about me. About 48%, even."
"Sire, do not be dismayed. Those posts are from right-wing bloggers. We don't care about their thoughts. Besides, they are never happy. Many even complained about that super-arch-conservative war-monger George W. Bush. Even their ultra-ultra-rightist war-hero candidate suffered many verbal barbs at their hands. Particularly the Malkin woman. She's full of hate. Never says anything nice about anybody. If the Messiah himself were to..."
[Quizzical look on Obama, tinged with anger] "I thought
I was their messiah!"
"Sire, I speak of that long-haired fellow from that ancient book."
"Book?"
"Yes, Mel Gibson also made a movie about him a few years ago."
"Oh, that guy. I saw that movie once. I was too stoned to remember much from it, though. Continue, please."
"Anyway, if their Messiah himself appeared before them, they would cling bitterly to him, at least in public. But on their blogs, they would snipe, snark, and complain. It is all they do."
[boyish grin on Obama] "I see. Thank you. Oh, and that 'cling bitterly' line? I'm sooooo stealing that one!"
"As you wish, sire. But we need to address the press right away. They want to know about the deaths in Pakistan, and about our plans for continuing missile attacks from unmanned aircraft."
[Obama growing angry]"I didn't authorize any such thing! Get
greggycraig in here NOW!"
"You called, sire?"
"Greggycraig, weird things are going on in Pockystahn. Did you issue another Executive Order without explaining to me what was in it? Again?"
"No, sire! That was a continuation of Bush's policy! Really, it wasn't me this time!"
"BOOOOSH?!"
[Rahm] "Yes, but such actions are
very popular with the American people. Your approval ratings have
soared since this news was broadcast. They believe you are a fine leader and will kill many terrorists. In fact, they don't care who you bomb, as long as it has 'stan' in the name"
[Obama seething with rage] "My mother was named
Stan! I'm tellin' ya, one more 'yo mama' joke and I'm gonna cure your indigestion!"
[Rahm and greggycraig cowering in fear] "Indigestion, sire?"
"Yeah. And I'll start calling you Ram instead of Rahm. Cuz I'll ram my foot so far up your backside your
acid reflux will be cured. It'll be replaced by
Gucci Loafer Reflux!"
"So sorry I wasn't more clear, sire. I wasn't talking about your dear marxist mother. I was talking about countries whose names end in ess tee ay en."
[Boyish grin on Obama] "Oh. OK, then. Kill more. Many more. Kill as many as it takes."
[Greggycraig exiting] "Yes m'lord. Right away."
[Rahm getting anxious] "Sire, the press awaits. We'd best not take too long, lest they grow testy and begin asking actual questions."
"Oh
#^$%, you're right! We better step on it. And not
in it! Ha!"
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"Mr. President, many Pakistanis were killed by our military forces yesterday. We thought there would be a
change in that policy. Please explain this to your fawning minions."
[Obama composed and dignified]"Thank you for the question. First of all, when I air-raid villages and blow up wedding parties, I do it only in the most compassionate ways. I am not a barbarian like my predecessor who blew up levees in New Orleans. Secondly, I have outsourced production of all military equipment to China. When the Pockystahneez inspect the damage, the only missle fragments they find will be printed with unreadable Chinese runes, so they'll never suspect it was us. It is called 'plausible deniability.' You'll be hearing that phrase a lot from my administration, so look it up now if you don't know what it means."
"But Mr. President, wouldn't it have been wise to keep that outsouring information a secret?"
"Not really. The New Your Times would have blabbed about it before the end of the week. "
[Helen Thomas] "He's right, you know."
"Now then, I've answered ONE single question, which concludes today's press conference. I won't be answering any more.
Adieu."
[Chris Matthews, under his breath] "Oh, he's so dreamy! I just love his new policies for handling terrorists in Pakistan! And he speaks French, too! What more could a man ask for?"
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"Ram, that was seriously stressful! I need to a good workout to burn off some stress. Then a few cigarettes immediately afterward."
"Sire, your personal gym is prepped and ready for you. I'll have the maid fetch your carton of Newports."
"Thanks" [Obama inserting earbuds and fiddling with his iPod] "But first a few dance steps to stretch out." [Obama dancing, eyes closed, oblivious to the world]
[Ram to greggycraig, mumbling softly] "Ha! He dances like a white guy!"
[Obama angrily removing earbuds] "Ram! You really think I didn't hear that?!?" [Points to large, pendulous ears] "Nothing gets past these babies!"
"No, No, Sire! I said 'When you dance, it brings a tear to my eye!' You truly are
that graceful."
[Boyish grin on Obama] "Oh, sorry." [Continues dancing]
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To be continued...