Barack Obama - My Fake Diary
Wednesday, 11 February 2009
Get up, make some coffee. Catch the news on TV, Nicolas Sarkozy is leading a Middle East peace initiative in Egypt. Man, he gets to do lots of interesting things and go places! Wish American Presidents could do that ...
Have more coffee. Hillary phones and asks me what to say about China. 'Just do what we've done so far', I tell her, 'and will keep doing - mention we're going to have meaningful talks with the Chinese, that can mean absolutely anything without meaning anything at all.' Tum tee tum, I'm starting to miss being a Senator, had plenty to do then, this ain't too interesting.
Michelle calls and tells me she can't make lunch with me, as she's 'getting bored with all this Presidential stuff'. Oh well. Watch the news again, then start preparing today's speech about the US economy. Kinda hard work, as I have to talk about change and steps forward and all sorts of dumb cliches without mentioning a single policy the government will actually do to achieve these things, or mentioning any details at all.
Hunt around the drawers and closets, and find a putter and a golf ball, and a Jack Daniel's whiskey glass - George must have forgotten to take them with him, I guess. Get some pretty good shots in, then discover there's a slight slope in the room. Wow, just holed a 23-foot downhill putt from behind the lightstand!
Hillary phones again. 'What is it now?', I ask her, testing the wind with my finger. 'In all the sniper fire I've gotten kinda confused about where China is', she says in that irritating voice of hers. 'Is it near Serbia?' I hang up and start doing the New York Times crossword.
Finish writing my speech, that should please the average American voter. The mightiest country in the world, what a joke! The dumbest, more like, glad no-one else can read this, if I made a speech to tell the American people they're just a permanent dumping ground for the world's rejects and have yet to achieve anything in over 200 years I might not be so popular! Lucky I'm not American, heh heh. 'My fellow Americans', I'd love to say, 'go forth and die in British and French colonies for oil!' Nope, might not go down too well.
The phone rings again, and I reckon it's that woman again, but no, it's George! 'Hey, Bramble!', he shouts, 'how's it goin' in the White House? Found the putter yet?', so I have to put on my Presidential voice. 'Hello, former Mr President, the putter is not an issue at present', as I close the blinds to cut the glare on the ball, 'I'm busy drafting the speech that, I figure, will mean change and a move forwards for the United States. When the -'. 'Can it', Bush says, 'how do ya fancy 18 holes at Augusta? Got an invite from the sec there. Blacks ain't usually allowed, but I told him you're not really black, like Tiger Words ain't, so he OK'd it.'
'Mr President', I reply, as a squawking bird outside makes me miss the glass, 'this is not at present a matter we can deal with in any uncertain terms of tenure. Our aims are, as you know - damn! I'll shoot that friggin' bird! - our aims are a positive move forwards, as the mightiest country in the world takes a bold step onto the moon of what are, in Senator Edward Kennedy's words, a larger glass that is neither full nor empty, but merely waiting for our dreams and hopes for a brighter future to roll past the glass, and make me slam the phone down on you, ya inbred druggie chimp!' Oops, shouldn't have said that!
News about Russia and Israel on TV again, at least they get to do things and run countries. Wish Momma was here, she'd soon sit me down and read Uncle Tom's Cabin to me again. Startin' to see what that book meant, I've still yet to do a thing here except wave my hand about, like a, well, I dunno what like. Like JFK, that's it!
The waving and smiling, the annoying bleating voice, the complete and utter pointlessness of being President of the USA, the drinks and the drugs, the glass box - gulp - that I have to make a fool of myself in, the fact I have no real power. The fact that the United States has no real power any more, jeez, what am I doing here? Another four years of this! You know, Diary, that whiskey glass might come in handy after all ...
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