Exclusive: A Page from Barack Obama’s Diary – Hail to the Ogler in Chief!
by PAM MEISTER
July 13, 2009
I know I’ve touched on this before, but I can’t stress enough that one of the greatest things about being president is being able to travel all over the world for free. Before I was elected, Michelle was worrying about the price of fresh fruit and I was kvetching about the price of arugula at Whole Foods. Now we have the best of everything at our fingertips. During this very necessary recession/depression (how else will I convince them to allow me to socialize the nation?), average Americans are making do with Kraft macaroni and cheese and Chef Boyardee. Jeez, no wonder those bitter clingers are so fat. Meanwhile, we entertain our cronies with pricey Wagyu steak and go out to dinner and a show in New York.
Oh, and I think it’s hilarious that so many of my
cult followers fellow Americans actually think that Michelle is the one who tends the garden at the White House. Snap a few photos of her digging in the dirt and voila! Suddenly she’s got a greener thumb than Martha Stewart. What a bunch of saps! But hey, I don’t knock it. If it weren’t for that widespread gullibility, I wouldn’t be where I am today – on top of the world, planning to take over every aspect of the lives of the peons below. Life’s great.
My latest romp across the globe was to Russia and then to the G8 summit in Italy. Rule of thumb: the only thing that tastes good in Russia is the vodka, and in Italy, everything tastes (and looks) good. Especially yummy in Italy were all the scrumptious looking women there for the G8, especially one hot number in a wine-colored dress. Fortunately for me, my minions in the press went right to work spinning the incident, turning my wandering eyes into a legitimate look down to secure my footing on the steps. Poor Sarkozy; he doesn’t have a servile media at his beck and call, and ended up with egg all over his face.
The only thing about the “ogling” incident that really bothers me is that the girl has no idea what an honor was bestowed upon her. Her parents are having an absolute snit fit. Don’t they know who I am? I’m the leader of the soon-to-be former most powerful nation in the world. I know who they are; they live in the slums in Rio de Janeiro. Peasants. Maybe they live in a hut like my brother George in Kenya.
Look, I can understand their being annoyed at that little creep Sarkozy’s wandering eye, but me? Besides, I know what it’s like to be treated like a sex symbol. I can’t walk out of the gym or go for a swim without millions around the world ogling my gorgeous pecs. So if she needs a buff shoulder to cry on, she knows where to find me.
But what this incident really shows is how shallow our news coverage is, and how gullible the public is. While they’re arguing over “did he or didn’t he” with regard to beautiful booty overseas, my fellow Democrats and I are up to the following:
· Scrubbing the Internet clean of my former “Fight the Smears” website, even going so far as to clean them off of the Way Back Machine archive site. · Further crippling our national security by allowing my attack dog Eric Holder to investigate “brutal interrogation tactics” used by the Bush administration – meaning no one will want to serve our nation’s interests in the future in case they are investigated and indicted down the line just for doing their job. (Actually, the idea that the Bush administration was “brutal” makes me want to laugh. Those who say that have obviously never been on the receiving end of one of Michelle’s tongue lashings. Boy, do they leave a mark!) · The Pentagon wants to stop tobacco use in the military. Good idea; where do soldiers, of all people, get the idea that there’s one aspect of their lives that’s no one’s business but theirs? No one should be immune from the long arm of the government. As long as they leave my ciggies alone, I’m down with it.
I could go on, Diary, but you get the picture. They say as Nero fiddled, Rome burned. Well, as our media fiddles over unsubstantial crap, I’m busy burning what used to be the greatest nation on earth. America the Beautiful? By the time I’m done with it, it’ll be America the Pitiful. I’m ready to leave my mark on history, Diary, and it’s gonna be a scorcher.
Time to go – the Teleprompter needs a tune up, and I want to be there to make sure everything goes right. If there’s one thing I can’t live without, it’s Telly.
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