Me: Wait, someone’s calling on the other line. Let me check who it… cool. It’s Barack. Can you just e-mail me that cashew chili recipe? I gotta take this. OK? Thanks.
Obama: Hi, Jennifer, How are ya?
Jennifer: Honestly? I’m just about fed up with some stuff, and I need to vent. You ever get that way? You just bottle it all up and try to stay positive and look on the bright side and use words like “challenging” instead of freakin’ off-the-charts “terrible”? Doesn’t it get to you that you can’t say exactly what you think all the time?
Obama: I do say what I think.
Me: I know, I know. But you’re a politician. C’mon on now.
Obama: No. Seriously. On the most part I do say what I think.
Me: How did you like that cheesecake I made for you?
Obama: It was awful. I had to toss it. I couldn’t in good conscience feed it to my staff.
Me: Uh huh.
Obama: I mean, have you ever even made a cheesecake before? I’m just asking cuz…
Me. Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re honest. I bet if I was the Queen of Siam, you’d make yourself like it. You’d…
Obama: There is no Siam.
Me: OK, Brainy McSmarts-a-lot. I don’t know who’s briefing you on international stuff or whatever. But there is a Siam. For crying out loud, I just ate at King of Siam Buffet last Friday night. If you think you want to be president you really have to study up on…
Obama: Well, it’s still there. It didn’t disappear. It’s just called Thailand.
Obama: So anyway, I was just calling to check in. I wanted to see if you would consider joining my strategic communications committee. Actually, I have a need for someone who can give me some important counsel on reaching out to a wide variety of voters.
Me: But you’ve got my vote.
Obama: Yes, I think we’ve got the lifelong yellow dog Democrat/East Coast liberal arts college educated/ artist/creative consultant/feminist/cat person/dog person/rabbit person/Catholic Buddhist/organic vegetable eating/Target shopper vote all nailed down.
Me: Are you sure? Because I think I have a really good handle on the issues that mean so much to this segment of the population. We need access to free healthcare and three day work weeks and mandatory kitten adoptions for families with two or more kids, and some other stuff. I can send you a list.
Obama: Yeah. I know. But I think I could really use your help with some other folks.
Me: Well, I’ll try. What are you thinking about?
Obama: We’ve had some challenges…
Me: You mean you’re terrified of losing…
Obama: OK Fine. I’m terrified of losing… the carny vote.
Me: The swami vote?
Obama: The carny vote.
Me: The Blarney Stone?
Me: Carny? You’re afraid of losing votes of traveling carnival workers?
Obama: Is that what they prefer to be called? Carnival workers?
Me: How the hell should I know? I’m just seeking, you know, some clarification on what you’re looking for.
Obama: Well, we had a staff meeting, and I think it goes without saying that the Carnival Worker population has been woefully underrepresented. Every year they are tasked with providing all-American entertainment in parking lots and open fields across America. They travel and because of this many of them fail to claim a resident state. Without a resident state, they are less inclined to vote– even by absentee ballot. But these people are the salt of the earth. They are hardworking Americans who need to be heard. I can be that voice.
Me: Um, OK. Can I just ask you something?
Obama: Why what?
Me: Why do they need to be heard? I mean, why don’t you just leave them alone?
Obama: Excuse me?
Me: Baby steps, Barack. You’re getting way ahead of yourself.
Obama: What do you mean?
Me: I’ll be blunt. I know this is an historic election.
Obama: That it is.
Me: And you’re totally going to win.
Obama: Yes, I am.
Me: And all sorts of crazy hoo-ha is gonna happen because you’re young, you’re liberal, you’ve made history in so many incredibly awesome ways, and you’re just not gonna take it anymore. Am I right?
Obama: Go on.
Me: Point is… just leave the carnies out of this. I figure, most of them are off the grid. Most of them probably haven’t paid taxes their entire adult lives. And you know what? Do you think they have disability insurance, not to mention health insurance, even while they’re operating equipment called “Sizzler” or “Megadrop” or “Horror Train”? I don’t think so. They’re rebels.
Obama: You see, that’s exactly the point I’m…
Me: Shhhh… shhh…
Obama: OK, I’m Shhhh-shing.
Me: So anyway, just don’t do any photo opps with guys named Lefty or Big John or Ghost Eye. Just don’t.
Obama: If you say so.
Me: You’ll thank me.
Obama: So what was it you wanted to vent about?
Me: I just saw that documentary “Sicko” and I am asbsolutely outraged that our government, unlike the French, does not send ladies to houses to do other ladies’ laundry when they have babies. Their daycare is, like, a dollar a day and they are awesome. And doctors actually make housecalls– and they like it! Why don’t we have that? Huh? Why?
Obama: I’m working on it.
Me: Oh you better be… or I’m moving to France. I mean it this time.
Obama: Au revoir.
Me: Yeah, well, I would ditch the jokes too.
Obama: Whatever you say.
Obama: You’re welcome.
Me: Now go kick some McButt.