“Et pour vous, Monsieur le Président, un copulation of bif…”

“Bif?”

“Steak, Barry” hissed Michelle. “You ordered the steak”.

“Oh, right. Trés bong!”

“Bif” continued Pierre the Head Waiter, “avec un eruption of squid ink et un fornication of seasonal leaves, accompanied par un flurry de crispy hummingbird, garnée avec un assemblage of locally sourced insects”.

“Mercy, Pierre” beamed the Change We Can Believe in. “Can I have some ketchup, por favor?”

A little spasm of pain twisted Pierre’s face.

“Barry!” hissed Michelle. “This is a classy place! They don’t do ‘ketchup’”.

“Oh, pardong” said Obama. “I meant ‘catsup’. You got any?”

“Um…at once, Excellency” groaned Pierre. “Enjoy your meal. Bon appetit!”

“Mmmm, this champale is trés bong, huh?” enthused Obama. “Let’s have a toast!”

“A toast to what?”

“To us; baby, to us. Everything’s coming up Obama! If the simmering racism of those redneck honkies who think I’m a secret Muslim doesn’t spoil it for us, inshallah, and if Acorn keeps up its ‘Early and Often’ voter registration program, we’re home free!”

“Maybe…” mused Michelle.

“Mr President! Mr President!” gasped the dishevelled figure who rushed up to their table, brushing past the waiters and interrupting the murmur of conversation and guzzling here at “l’Aigle Brun” (formerly “The Veal Crate”), Gotham’s trendiest eatery. “Mr President!”

“Huh? Where?” wondered Obama. “Oh, right. Hi, Kevin. What up?”

“I have bad news, your Excellency” choked Kevin Shitt, campaign operative. “McGovern ‘72 bad!”

Obama choked on his bif and went pale, or paler. Michelle hammered his back furiously with her meaty fist.

“Bad news?” gagged Obama. “What is it?”

“Its new information with a negative or unhappy cast” answered Kevin, unable to resist. “But that’s not important now. Our latest polling shows that McCain’s continual linking of your Excellency’s esteemed name to those of discredited individuals like Tony Rezko and Bill Ayres is having some effect…”

“Sticky Fingers and Boom Boom Billy? But they’re decent Americans! Bill is a ‘former terrorist’ – it says so in all the papers”.

“Sure, like Eichmann was a ‘former Nazi’” interjected Michelle helpfully.

“Maybe, mein Fuhrer” said Kevin. “But if this information sinks into the spongy brains of the dull lumpen herds of ordinary people, it could turn your landslide victory into, well, less of a landslide”.

“What about my High Priest, Jeremiah Wright?”

“Reverend Goddam? No, McCain says he’s off limits. Taboo. He says it’s a question of your personal faith”.

“Praise Allah – I mean, thank you Jesus!” cried Obama. “That John McCain will go down as the most polite and considerate loser in all the history of this slavery fostering, imperialist and Bush-riddled country! Send the old guy a fruit basket, will you?”

“Certainly, Sire” grovelled Kevin. “So you’re not worried?”

“Naah. My campaign is about sending a positive message, Kev; about bringing hope and change to the people of this country and ramming it down their goddam throats until they fucking choke on it…” growled Obama.

“Chill, Barry” warned Michelle. “Wait till after the inauguration”.

“Okay, okay…say, you look hungry, Kevin. Yo, Pierre!” called Obama. “Voulay voos gettez my flunkey here un Doggy Bag or something, por favor?”

“With all dispatch, Excellence” responded Pierre, dragging a reluctant puppy from its kennel.

“Make sure you put some catsup on it!”

Maybe his remark about Obama was a well-intetioned attempt to cool things down?

Maybe he really is a man of honor, and does know what he’s doing?

Or anyone who tries to make me sing that stoopid ‘Hail Obama’ song…

Sic semper tyrannis.

On a serious note, I just wouldnt do well at the camps. I dont like the councilors, the food sucks, cant swim after eating, I would have to recycle everything, and share my stuff, too many rules, and the liberal education classes! OY! see? I already went to school. I learned everything I needed to know about freedom and true democracy, right vs wrong, but most of all….the difference between good and evil. That, plus I was married twice…so I know the difference.

No, I am of the “do what I have to do” school….and I will do what I have to do. There are many people counting on it. I have never had a problem fighting and dying for freedom. This will be no different, with the exception of having to do it in this country, to rid it of the pestulence that has infected every segment of society.

So, when they come to take me away, I either will already be gone, or they will discover the wonderful aspects of tungsten tipped BMG rounds invading their personal space. And that’s at Zilla ranges! I am too old to change, too young to give in, and way too ornery to just be led away. So yeah, things will get dicey, the outcome will be predictable, but there will be that many less to take away the next ones.

I sleep well at night knowing this too.