While tracing around the channels trying sadly to find Alabama getting its giblets kicked in, Hunky Husband gratuitously lingered on what appeared to be my favorite politician being interviewed by my favorite celebrity. Barak Obama was on the Oprah show yesterday. Swearing lavishly, I struggled for the remote and he reminded me to tolerate her for the sake of the blog. Alright, already. I got a TUMS and gutted it out.
Oprah led the puppy down the path. Senator Obama from the Great State of Illinois uttered the word "Darfur" {screen shot of starving dark brown refugees} riiiight on cue. Senator Obama from the Great State of Illinois laughed knowingly as he gently recounted how his (very white and now very dead) mother had sung to him a lullaby that he couldn't quite remember the words to (but then neither could Hillary when she went down this road once) that said something about his "beautiful brown skin and brown eyes". {screen shot of beloved mother holding Barack Hussein in their manicured Hawaiian garden.} The fawning audience of supplicants wiped tears from their eyes on cue, lest they wouldn't get the box of Oreos Oprah might have left under their seat.
The convivial conversation drifted to something, that if you are not a curious student of personal interplay, like myself, you might have missed. His wife, Michelle, gave him a good ration of shit for his incompetency at planning their daughter's birthday party.She went on and on about how she wouldn't trust him to pick out the contents of nine year old's goodie bags at the party store. "He would just get in there to the party store and, you know, freeze up. You have to pick out things for boys and different things for girls. No way."
Oprah began to squirm and attempt to redirect the vector of a conversation going very wrong. She was having visions of Senator Neophyte in the Oval Office in January of 2009, wetting his bespoke pants at the prospect of picking out which Presidential Seal rug he wished to use. Forget the movement of troops. That might lead to the need for bespoke Depends. She needn't worry, her audience is not as deep as she. And she knows this very well.
The Great One figures if she works really hard and the bow is big enough, she might be able to package Obama up so tightly by election time that her American sycophants will never notice the parts missing out of his box.
I thought you'd fallen off the blogging wagon completely.
Posted by: PRCalDude | September 21, 2009 at 11:43 AM
comment moderation might kill participation on this blog. I'm just saying.
[JANE SAYS: Hey baby! I know, I know...but teh trolls STILL love my archives, stale as the front page may be. DKos loves to hate me, and I have a handful of haters that simply are too much work to filter at the rate I check in around here lately. Fighting some health issues, and trying to work the paying gig. I apologize. And I adore you. ;) ]
Posted by: PRCalDude | September 21, 2009 at 11:44 AM
Called, emailed.
Happy Birthday, dear friend :-)
xoxoxo
Birdie
Posted by: Birdie | October 13, 2009 at 07:40 PM