Din-Din With Barack

I really am not interested in having dinner with Barack.  Not that he’s probably not a nice guy, and I certainly would be the envy of my friends, it’s just that – well there are not many people I would like to have dinner with.  Outside of my friends and family, I can’t even think of anyone famous I would enjoy sharing meat and words with.

Then there is the contest – Dinner With Barack.  You get picked.  The Secret Service – those randy bad boys – send you a ticket to somewhere.  Right.  You don’t even know where you are going.  I mean what if it’s Oklahoma?  No offense to Oklahoma, but I’ve been there and swore to Jesus and a bunch of Saints that if I ever made it out of there I would become his servant.  So, you see I can’t go back there, cause I welched on my part of the Agreement.  You also don’t have a date or a time until the last minute.  Okay, so what if I was planning on cleaning my old vinyl albums, or my wife had plans to paint the living room?

Na.  I am not interested.  I mean, it’s not like I could sit there and say stuff like, “Hey B, why, after Karzai keeps insulting you, are you really going to wait until 2014 to leave Afghanistan?”  Or.  “Yo, Mr. P., did you ever feel like smacking that guy, Hannity in the face?”  See, that is dinner conversation.  It’s also chit chat that I am sure is off-limits with Barack.  So, what’s the point? And what if my wife doesn’t hit it off with Michelle, or they show up in the same dress?  Whoa, that could make for an awkward evening.

It’s better I stay here and just say stuff behind the President’s back and under the protection of my microphone.  That just feels more American to me.