Friday, March 6, 2009

Barry rough week

"Beware the Ides of March!"

President Obama sat up abruptly in bed, the haunting words of his ghostly dream still ringing in his uncommonly large ears. [Waking Michelle] "Mish, wake up! I've had a nightmare!"

[MichelleO, wagging finger] "No uh-uh, honey! Wakin' me up at 3:00am is just the beginning of your nightmare!"

[Obama] "Please don't hit me this time! I'm so scared!"

[MichelleO, exhibiting a rare bit of humanity] "OK, I won't whup' on you... this time. Tell me about your dream. Unless there are other women in your dream. Then I am gonna whup' on you."

[Obama] "It was just a strange disembodied voice that said 'Beware the Ides of March'."

[MichelleO] "The only Ides I know is the St. Ides Malt Liquor I used to drink before I got rich working in that hospital. Quit worrying about it and get some sleep. There are thousands of things to worry about that are more important than some silly little dream."

[Obama] "OK. Thanks for supporting me."
[Haggard looking Obama stumbles into morning staff meeting, rubs his eyes and clumsily reaches for his coffee cup]

[Rahm E.] "Sire, forgive me, but you look horrid!"

[Obama] "Yeah, I had a bad night. Bad dreams and stuff. And Michelle wasn't very helpful."

[Rahm E.] "Oh my. Tell me about your dream, sire. My days as a ballet dancer taught me how to interpret the thoughts of others and express them as dance."

[Obama] "All it was was a creepy ghosty thing saying 'Beware the Ides of March'."

[Rahm E. en pointe, fluttering about, leaping and prancing] "Et tu?" "Gah!" [Clutches ribs, collapses, feigning death]

[Obama] "What the heck was that?"

[Rahm E.] "Sorry, sire. Shakespeare was always difficult to dance to. I'll try harder next time."

[Obama] "No. Please don't. Do not ever flit about like that again. Just tell me what the dream is about."

[Rahm E.] "No worries, sire. We don't even know anyone named Brutus."

[Obama, banging head on desk] "We went from nightmares to you doing some really gay gymnastics thing to I dunno what... Just tell me what the dream means."

[Rahm E.] "The 'Ides' is an old Anglo word for 'middling-part-of.' The ghost was cautioning you to be careful around the middle of this month. You know, like don't put any big bets on who's going to be in the NCAA Tournament, don't let Biden use the riding lawnmower, that kind of stuff."

[Obama] "Finally! Thanks. I didn't know what to make of that dream, but I'm glad you've cleared it up. With that settled, let's get down to business."

[Rahm E.] "Sire, just a reminder that Prime Minister Gordon Brown of the United Kingdom will be here in about 5 minutes."

[Obama] "CRAP! I totally forgot! Here's $50 - dash down to the White House souvenir shop and get a gift for the PM! This is gonna be worse than the time I forgot about my anniversary and Michelle beat me with a 5-iron."

[SecTreas Geithner, sobbing uncontrollably] "The Australians think I'm a flaming idiot and that I don't know how to solve the financial crisis."

[Obama] "Cheer up Tim. It's not just you. None of us know how to fix the financial crisis. But I give a good speech, so it's cool."

[SecState Clinton] "Putin pretty much laughed in our face at our missle defense/help with Iran idea. Then when I presented my gift to Foreign Minister Lavrov he nearly peed himself laughing. [Starting to choke up and cry] "I got him a big plastic button that said 'reset' in Russian. You know, like a reset button for Russian/American relations. It was so cute! It was such an endearing gift! But the translation was wrong, and it said 'overpriced' instead of 'reset.' I don't know very much Russian, but I think they were saying that I was a harlot and that if my asking price was five bucks that too, would be overpriced. [Total sobbing breakdown with layer after layer of makeup flowing off her face onto the polished hardwood desk]

[Obama, trying desperately to find a positive to latch onto] "Hey, our trillion-dollar stimulus package helped keep 25 police officers on duty in Ohio! That's only like $40 billion per job! [Holds out hands for fist bump, none accept the invite but instead continue crying]

"Umm. Alright. I recognize that things have to get worse [cabinet cries even louder] before they get better. But things will get better! Things always get better. [Voice trails off, Obama himself gets a little misty-eyed]

[Dr. Sanjay Gupta leans in through the doorway] "President Obama, thank you for considering me for the prestigious post of Surgeon General." [Exaggerated Gandhi accent] "But I would sooner clean the dairy case of my nephew's convenience store than work for your misfit administration. Goodbye, now!"

[Obama, hanging head] "It's only March the 6th. What else could go wrong between now and the 15th?"

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