Exclusive: A Page from Barack Obama’s Diary – Paging Dr. Obama!
by PAM MEISTER
July 20, 2009
With the health care debate heating up, I want to be perfectly clear: I will not sign any bill that does not give me total control over the health of each and every American. But I’m only telling that to you, dear Diary, because if I were to say it out loud, that would sound the death knell of my ambitions to be Grand Poohbah of the World. Remember, the future does not belong to those who gather armies on a field of battle or bury missiles in the ground, but rather to those who snatch power while the electorate is asleep at the wheel.
Instead, I mouth soothing platitudes like, “I will not sign on to any health plan that adds to our deficits over the next decade. And by helping improve quality and efficiency, the reforms we make will help bring our deficits under control in the long-term." It’s enough to assuage the Kool Aid drinkers, but apparently there are some good comrades who have not jumped on to the ObamaCare bandwagon yet. But don’t worry. My pals over at ACORN will soon have everybody in line. Note to self: check with Rahm to see if it’s OK to have them go around during the Census dressed like riot police with billy clubs and shields.
Are Americans so stupid that they think they’ll get something for nothing? There’s a pool going on in my staff on this very subject; the winner gets to have dinner and a show with Michelle and me in New York. The prize was my idea. I owe LBJ a debt of thanks for his Great Society, which started the entitlement ball rolling. Seriously, there ain’t no thing as a free lunch, and the idea of free health care is probably the biggest joke since my girly first game pitch at the 2009 Allstars Game. But as long as suckers voters fellow world citizens fellow Americans don’t figure that out, I’ve got it made in the shade. I’m still surprised they voted me into office, what with all of the information available about my radical ideas. Fortunately, most people still rely on the MSM for their information, and I’ve got those suckas wrapped around my little finger. Hey, I’m not a centrist. I just play one on TV!
Truthfully, Diary, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a doctor. The idea of playing God on earth is a very powerful one. And I thought it’d be fun to be able to go around with a stethoscope while wearing one of those cool white coats, and join a country club. But then I found out that doctors are bound by something called the Hippocratic Oath. You know, a bunch of nonsense about patient privacy and obligations to the infirm. The modern version even says, “I must not play God.” You can imagine how devastating this was to someone with my grand ambitions. So as a second choice, I became a lawyer-cum-community organizer, whose specialty is rabble rousing and changing the very fabric of society. Add to that my role as a “Constitutional lawyer” and people will believe just about anything that comes out of my mouth. And just think: as a president whose power grab rivals that of Napoleon, I’ll have a helluva lot more power over the life and death of average Americans than some doctor treating bitter clingers patients in a clinic in Podunk, Iowa.
Thanks to so many members of Congress who are too “busy” to read the entire bill and everyday Americans who care more about the autopsy results for Michael Jackson, very few people know about how much it’ll cost. Then there are the details like how we’ll save money by “comparative effectiveness,” which really means deciding whether it’s cost effective to give benefits to a 25-year-old who will reap the benefits for decades to come, or a 70-year-old who would probably kick the bucket within ten years or so, essentially wasting time and money. Who do you choose? There’s also the worry out there that people who didn’t vote for me might get the shaft, even if they are within the proper age bracket. My answer to that is that if you turn over a signed statement promising to vote for me next time, I’ll promise to think it over very carefully.
Well Diary, I’ve got to get Air Force One gassed up for my next trip. No, not with Joe Biden’s gas, although I admit I’ve got my science czar working on a way to convert it to usable energy.
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