As the President rubbed his jammed middle finger from yesterdays marathon grudge match with Arne Duncan at the White House he took a moment from his busy morning to notice the puffy white clouds typical of the Gulf states. Air Force One was now approaching Keesler Air Force Base and was now descending for its landing. “Hey you guys can you please keep it down I’m trying to concentrate here. Steven can we talk in here, please?” The President quickly moved his Secretary of Energy into his private office as his ears started feeling the descent. “Steven now you got this straight, right? There’s to be no talk of the permanent offshore oil drilling freeze, right? There’d be a hell of a shit storm if that little bugger got out.” “Yes Mr. President I’ve explained to everyone that this is to be kept hush hush until you say.” “Good, this will jack up the price of oil and eventually hit the American driver by August by as much as 50%.” “Wow, Mr. President $5 gas at the pump will piss em off for sure.” The President thought to himself, good that’ll get those asshole Teabaggers going and that’s just what I want. Knowing that $5 at the pump will slow the economy, his last orders are playing out perfectly, but at the cost of his dwindling poll numbers. He knows not one day can be wasted now with the November midterm elections rushing at him like a freight train.
God damn he hates this fuck’n place as he walked off AF-1. The moist southern air got him sweating as soon as he emerged. He hated that feeling, he hated this place and he hated these people. Gun-toting bible preaching just begins to describe this whole backwater of a place and he felt like an alien every time he opened his mouth and every time he met these fat fucks. Why the hell is everybody so fat down here, he thought to himself, why?
After shaking a hundred hands and being photographed 10,000 times he wished he could jump back on AF-1 and head back to D.C., but he was forced by his handlers to spend the night. Unfortunately, he knew it would be looked upon as a desperate attempt to make him look engaged, but he did it anyway.
His secure Blackberry vibrated in his left pant pocket as he jumped into his limo with three secret service men and Steven while they headed for more meetings on the oil spill. “Yes, yes, I can hear you, yes, what, well the hell with it just block the roads and have McChrystal use other means. If they shut that airbase down we’ll have to set up a meeting.” Thinking to himself, perfect. “Well, it looks like we could lose our Krystan airbase supplying Afghanistan.” Shit, why did I say that so happily he thought as his three Secret Service men looked at him indignantly.
I swear these fuckers are gonna do me in before the Teabaggers do, he thought as he gazed back out over the flat boring terrain of the Gulf coast.
As the President experienced another sleepless night riddled with blood sucking southern mosquito assassins, probably let in by agents of the Christian Right, day 500 of the Obama Presidency ends with a buzzing in his ear.
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