The Personal Journal of POTUS

August 21, 2008

More Than Meets The Eye

I was on my exercise bike at the crack of dawn yesterday, and I got a call from Karl, the first words out of his mouth was: “George, have you ever heard of the phrase… more than meets the eye?” I told’em sure, it’s usually followed by Robots in Disguise, it’s the old Transformer jingle, a cartoon from the 80s.

Karl went on, well have I got a story for you, it’ll seem like science fiction, but stay with me. So, on Wednesday, I got a call from somebody I never talked to before, caller told me to meet with him at the Potbelly’s sandwich on 1299 Pennsylvania around 11:30 or so. He suggested that I dress casually, at least that way people won’t instantly recognize me. He has some real interesting information on the election. He wanted to talk. I told him I felt better meeting at one of the clubs around DC, but this guy said that it’s better to do it in public, much harder to eavesdrop, and nobody would expect it. He could be recognized with a Redskin’s ball cap.

I figured I was gonna be in town anyway, so why not, and it’s a break from the normal grind. So I wandered into town, and made my way to the Potbelly’s. Before I actually walked in, I spotted this middle aged white guy in the Redskin’s cap who is munching on a sandwich, and head toward him. He sees me, and walks up to me, and hands me a bag and a cup, and says: “chicken salad sandwich and Diet Coke, let’s take a walk.”

I took the sandwich, and asked, ok, who are you, and what’s this about?

He says, great questions, well, let me tell you who I am. He pulls out his cell phone and hits a number. My phone rings, and I’m a bit annoyed. What’s this supposed to tell me I ask, what kind of game are you playing?

The white guy says, look at your phone, it’ll answer your question. To be honest, I was kind of pissed at this point, but I figure, I’ll play along. I lift up the phone, and I see the caller ID says BO. I looked at this guy, and I say, what the hell? Where did you get that phone from?

He replies, it’s my phone. I looked at the guy, and I was dumbstruck, I said, how is this possible? I know that is Barack Obama’s phone, how did you get it? Who are you?

The white guy smiled, I’m Barack, don’t say it too loud. People might think you’re crazy. But it is me, it’s amazing what modern technology can do, eh? Before you ask, this is a mask, something that the CIA developed. It’s perfect, my make up guy came from the agency. Nobody has the least bit of clue this is who I am.

I asked, but if you’re Barack, who the hell is it that’s running around and giving all those corny speeches?

Some loser actor from Hollywood, they’re a dime a million you know.

I responded, You’re not doing yourself any favors, have you seen the latest polls.

The white guy kept smiling, trust me Karl, the Hollywood actor I have on stage is managed by Michelle. He’s been there for about four months. And look what he’s accomplished, all he has been saying is bullshit about change and hope, and other crap. And the people are eating it up. I don’t need to be there. The polls don’t bother me, this way, I can have fun whenever I want and not get pressured into doing anything stupid. Oh, I’ll be there on the important occasions, like the convention, and the debates. No big deal. Besides, I have to make the race close, so McCain won’t feel so bad. We both know I am gonna win this.

But we’re not here to talk about me. The reason we’re here is because I want to show you the fruits of your advice, and of course to ask a favor. First, the fruits. Recognize this number? Remember your advice? Well, I used it. The white guy holds up the phone… and on it was the private cell number of Hillary. I know since I have a friend in the phone company.

He hit the send button, and this is what I heard.

Hillary? It’s Barack, What do you say? Last offer, you can be the Health Czar?

Come on Hillary, we both know you’re not going to be the VP. But you’ll get your spot.

It’s not a loser position, do you care about health care or not?

No, you wish Hillary, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m young and virile, besides, you can’t even keep Bill happy, you think he is hooking up with young girls all over because he is sexually satisfied?

Well, you don’t have to be in my administration at all, I don’t care. Once I’m president, I don’t care what you do. You can be the elderly bitch on the Senate floor who keeps whining like that Kennedy, but really, you won’t accomplish shit.

Ok, hold up, Hillary, I don’t have the time to waste. Just remember to keep your little supporters in line at the convention, or you won’t be getting any support to pay off the campaign debts, and be nice when you talk on Tuesday. Otherwise, kiss the millions you plowed into your disaster of a campaign goodbye.

With that, Barack hung up. He looked at me and smiled, I wanted you to at least hear that one, so that you know I do listen. Now, about this favor. I want to stick it to that bitch for all the grief she caused. I know you show up on Fox News all the time, do me a favor, and keep up the suggestion that Hillary can be my VP. That’ll really rile up the bitch. Heh, heh, and thanks again for the help. We’ll talk again soon. Probably after the convention, we’ll have to plot a strategy about how to beat McCain but let him retain his dignity.

With that, he waved, and a red Ferrari came down the road, and he hopped in, and just like that, he was gone.

So that’s my story. Karl ended.

I was flabbergasted. I asked Karl if he was pulling my leg. Karl said no, not at all. He just thought it was very interesting what Obama did. He never in his wildest dream thought Obama would ever be so interesting or entertaining. I asked if he was going to honor Obama’s request. Karl’s answer? Just watch the Fox News talk shows this week if you have time. I tell ya, George, politics can be really fun.


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