“Mr. President, you wanted me to remind you when Limbaugh returned from his honeymoon, well heee’s back.” “Great, I get one hour tonight and he gets 3 hours tomorrow to tear me apart.” “Great speech Mr. President, much better response too, a lot better than West Point. “Thank God, anything’s better than West Point.” As he scratched the annoying mosquito bite on the outer rim of his right ear he couldn’t stop thinking about his last conversation with General Petraeus. It left him breathless and completely off balance. I got to have more feedback about this, but how can I if nobody gets back to me, I’m drifting out here people, I’m drifting! Petraeus is getting to be a problem, a big problem. “Sir, I just received a message that General Petraeus has collapsed in a hearing on the hill.” Good, I hope he’s dead! God, did I say that out loud? I got to watch myself, this is dangerous, he thought.
As his body attempted to digest the fish sandwich he downed at 10 A.M., which was way too early for his system. He hurried to his limo which would move him on to D.C. and his preparation for tonight’s speech on the spill or should we say his pitch for Cap and Trade and $5 gasoline.
The President emerged from the helicopter feeling much better to be home. Unfortunately, the bite on his ear was now bleeding from his constant scratching. As he entered the White House he motioned to his aid “Susan, can we get somebody to look at this ear of mine? It seems to be bleeding and I have this speech tonight.” “Yes sir I’ll get the doctor over to look at it right now.”
“Jon, this tenth paragraph about condemning the oil industry is not strong enough. We need something more along the lines of, “nationalization of the oil industry is not outside the realm of possibilities if they can’t police themselves”. Oh and drop those lines about the people of the Gulf, fuck em.” “OK Mr. President. Fuck them? Did you mean the people or the lines?” There was silence over the line. The President knew he slipped up. Jon went on “I’ll do the rewrite and shoot it over to you Mr. President, thank you.”
The President remembered his meeting with Putin last year and it still haunted him. It was the way he cavalierly said “just take the oil industry.” “Just take it! Who will stop you? You can be rich and powerful like me. Politicians can be bought. When you’re rich, no one buys you. You’re the master of your universe.” Little was lost in translation but the President more than understood what he was saying and it’s been compelling him to pull the trigger on part B of the plan and run. Since he’s been left hanging for the past few weeks, it was so tempting.
As Michelle relentlessly went on and on about the kids and her mother the Presidents eyes started drooping. The speech went off like clockwork but he wondered if anyone was buying it. It may have been too obvious, he thought. I got to get that Putin thing out of my head or I’ll blow this whole thing. “Oil” as he laughed to himself, that’s thinking small. When this is over Putin will be licking my boots.
The President turned on his side away from his wife and wished he was back dancing with that Mississippi mosquito instead of listening to her bullshit. Anything was better than this, as day 501 ended on the Obama Presidency.
As his body attempted to digest the fish sandwich he downed at 10 A.M., which was way too early for his system. He hurried to his limo which would move him on to D.C. and his preparation for tonight’s speech on the spill or should we say his pitch for Cap and Trade and $5 gasoline.
The President emerged from the helicopter feeling much better to be home. Unfortunately, the bite on his ear was now bleeding from his constant scratching. As he entered the White House he motioned to his aid “Susan, can we get somebody to look at this ear of mine? It seems to be bleeding and I have this speech tonight.” “Yes sir I’ll get the doctor over to look at it right now.”
“Jon, this tenth paragraph about condemning the oil industry is not strong enough. We need something more along the lines of, “nationalization of the oil industry is not outside the realm of possibilities if they can’t police themselves”. Oh and drop those lines about the people of the Gulf, fuck em.” “OK Mr. President. Fuck them? Did you mean the people or the lines?” There was silence over the line. The President knew he slipped up. Jon went on “I’ll do the rewrite and shoot it over to you Mr. President, thank you.”
The President remembered his meeting with Putin last year and it still haunted him. It was the way he cavalierly said “just take the oil industry.” “Just take it! Who will stop you? You can be rich and powerful like me. Politicians can be bought. When you’re rich, no one buys you. You’re the master of your universe.” Little was lost in translation but the President more than understood what he was saying and it’s been compelling him to pull the trigger on part B of the plan and run. Since he’s been left hanging for the past few weeks, it was so tempting.
As Michelle relentlessly went on and on about the kids and her mother the Presidents eyes started drooping. The speech went off like clockwork but he wondered if anyone was buying it. It may have been too obvious, he thought. I got to get that Putin thing out of my head or I’ll blow this whole thing. “Oil” as he laughed to himself, that’s thinking small. When this is over Putin will be licking my boots.
The President turned on his side away from his wife and wished he was back dancing with that Mississippi mosquito instead of listening to her bullshit. Anything was better than this, as day 501 ended on the Obama Presidency.
Special Note:
This is a fictitious story based on factual and fictitious events and individuals. It should not be considered factual in any way. We hope you enjoy this daily fictitious tongue-in-cheek story of the Obama Presidency.
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