Hello people, we’re going to discuss president Obama in this blog, or hub, or words on a page thing. Every single bit of information is totally true; it is researched by hundreds of imaginary staff. Some stuff is made up. We’re going to take a closer look at the president, so close in fact that we are going to go right up to his eyebrows. Is that a bit of dandruff there? You better believe it! And remember that you heard it here first.
So what does Obama do in the white house when no one is looking? Do you REALLY want to know? I see by that vigorous head-shaking that you so. Does he run around naked? Is he chasing people in the White House with a machete? Does he put his feet up on his desk? How should I know! No one is looking! Are you paying attention? Give your head a shake people.
But this is what I hear from my insiders. Who are my insiders? I can’t tell you that, but I can tell you this. They are all INSIDE. And sure, some of them are alcoholics and cocaine sniffers, but really who isn’t. We’re not going to talk about that. One or two of them are legally blind, but are we going to hold that against them? Blind people need to work too. I know a guy that has a seeing-eye dog that’s blind. So what about it.
I also know this Randy guy and he’s completely blind and he drives a taxi. Sure, he’s dropped a few people off in the river, and one guy in the middle of the airport runway, but he’s exciting to drive with down the highway. He once drove a cow to the movie theatre but we told him it was a horse. He might have run over a few people that stood too close to the curb. That was their fault wasn’t it? Remember I said that they were TOO CLOSE to the curb. But he’ll definitely put some excitement into that dull life of yours. So don’t you be scared to get in his taxi.
So where was I? Oh yes, sitting right here on this chair.
Do you know that a chair exists in the Oval office that is actually a secret service agent. It’s absolutely true, so if you ever get to visit don’t sit on him like I did. And don’t put your cigarette out on his arm.
Anyway, Obama gets up up the morning and walks down the hall; he stops and has a surprised look on his face. He has a confident walk in his Spider-man pajamas. Every morning it’s the same thing. Then he shouts to the top of his voice. “Quick everyone, come and see whose here! Hurry!”
Secret service run with guns drawn. A garbage can lid falls somewhere. (Yes, I was confused by that part too) His wife and kids rush to his side. They slide on slippery floors, and heads hit on splintery doors. Hair is pulled as they fight to be the first one to reach him. A groin is kicked somewhere. Exactly who got the kick in the groin? We don’t know. The dog is thrown like a football and bounces off the president. But not to worry as he is dog resistant.
“Look!” says Obama. “It’s the president of the United States of America!” He is of course staring at himself in the mirror. He stands akimbo and then prances around like a chicken. Then he takes a wet towel and chases his family like a maniac down the corridor, whipping them all the while. “I’m the president and your not! Ha, ha! Nyah, nyah”
“You’re going to be the president in a coma if you don’t pick up those dirty socks!” shouts his wife.
He says the same thing at the breakfast table every morning except Sunday. “You know, I could nuke North Korea if I wanted to; I’ve got my hand on the button. You know what’s in this briefcase? It’s a secret and I’m not going to tell you because I’m the president! I am the president, right honey?”
“Yes dear,” says the wife. “We are the president.”
“They’re not just pretending that I’m the president?”
“No honey, we are the president.”
“Could I have president Bush put into a coma if I wanted to?”
“But I don’t want to, do I?
“No dear, he’s pretty much in a coma as it is.”