Barack Obama - My Fake Diary

Tuesday, 10 February 2009

One of my aides/homies woke me up this morning. Good job too. I was up on the roof of the White House, dressed in my new Superman pyjamas, about to leap off.

I must try harder to not believe the publicity, or I'm not going to be able to save the world.

Americans be getting fat. We lead the world in lard-assed folk. Well, that doesn't include Australia, but then, not much do! (Heh-heh!)

I figure I can create around 100,000 new jobs, training an army of lipo technicians. We will have mobile liposuction units touring the suburbs and suckin' that shit outta them fat mofos. My calculations (I did 'em on my new Spiderman calculator) say we can have a renewable energy resource for at least the next two hundred years.

Lionel Ritchie has moved into the office I got for him. It's next to the bathroom, 'cos I know he got the problem an' don't want to wear the bag. An' I know, I don't wanna see that mess on the rug. Puttin' him next to the bathroom was the obvious solution.

I don't mind him bein' full of soul, but I don't want no funk stinkin' up the place.

Mustapha Kamir has done it! Peace in the Middle East, at least between Hamas and the Israelites. That MoFo goin' places. I sho' picked a winner there.

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