Monday, April 11, 2011
Perhaps owing to the disappointing blow of being forced to cancel his weekend vacation to Colonial Williamsburg (his first vacation in nearly two weeks), Barack Obama opened his heart in an emotionally wrenching media confession, claiming "I just miss...I miss being anonymous."
In fact, the alleged president misses anonymity so much that he's considering making "I Miss Being Anonymous" the title of his third autobiography assuming that Bill Ayers approves.
The heartrending confessions spilled out as Mr. Obama was talking to reporters for Hearst Magazines...because what better forum is there to try to get back your anonymity than a press conference?
"I miss Saturday morning, rolling out of bed, not shaving, getting into my car with my girls, driving to the supermarket, squeezing the fruit, getting my car washed, taking walks. I can't take a walk," sniffled Mr. Obama...obviously confusing himself with FDR.
The saddest man in the world then dabbed his eyes and said that he's not the golf fanatic that everyone accuses him of being, but "it's the only excuse I have to get outside for four hours at a stretch." Oh sure, he could get plenty of sunlight and fresh air mowing the Whitehouse lawn, or helping Michelle weed her yams. But none of those things would really provide the same feeling of carefree freedom that comes from traveling in a 9-car entourage while burning tens of thousands of taxpayer dollars on an extended game of Putt-Putt.
Frankly, Hope n' Change admires Barack Hussein Obama's dream of anonymity, and he can count on us to do whatever we can to help him attain it as soon as possible. Within a couple of years, it would be great for him to go back to being the late-sleeping, unshaven, fruit-squeezing, sidewalk-dwelling guy he was meant to be.
But until then, true "anonymity" will just have to remain an elusive dream for the man with no birth certificate, no school or professional records, no friends from his past, no recollection of the church he allegedly attended for 25 years, or much else.
Hey, rat. Play that sad little song one more time. Suddenly we seem to have tears in our eyes, too...