Dear Diary: Today was a good day in some ways, not in others. Under the 'Good' heading came Joe Biden's declaration that my decision to attack Bin Laden was the most audacious in 500 years. Entirely correct of course. What were Eisenhower, Nelson and Napoleon's achievements next to mine? They don't begin to compare with my cool genius, even if I say so myself, and I do.
The bad part of today came when St Patrick's Day returned like the end of a monster movie. Just when you think the creature is finally destroyed it roars back to life. Enda Kenney, Ireland's Toys-each, or whatever they call the dude, was visiting and St Patrick's Day had a re-run at a Capitol luncheon which I attended with him. I re-assured him [as I do leaders of all sniveling, insignificant little countries, that Ireland "punches above its weight" and is "one of our most valued allies." I finally have admitted to myself that Guinness is a gross concoction and the taste hasn't grown on me, so I asked the Secret Service to track down an alternative that they can quietly slip me should the need arise. They came up with a Guinness glass filled with a Diet Cola topped with a squirt of instant cream, which looks surprisingly convincing.
I'm writing this entry much earlier than usual. Early Wednesday I will board Air Force One with my usual effortless trot up the stairs, for the cameras, on a two-day trip via Vegas, to Boulder, Roswell and Oklahoma to be photographed on oilfields and next to solar panels. Jarrett and Axelrod think we need to show Joe Sixpack that we're doing something about sky-high gas prices. Not that we can do anything at this stage: but, as they keep reminding me, it's all about the optics.
The bad part of today came when St Patrick's Day returned like the end of a monster movie. Just when you think the creature is finally destroyed it roars back to life. Enda Kenney, Ireland's Toys-each, or whatever they call the dude, was visiting and St Patrick's Day had a re-run at a Capitol luncheon which I attended with him. I re-assured him [as I do leaders of all sniveling, insignificant little countries, that Ireland "punches above its weight" and is "one of our most valued allies." I finally have admitted to myself that Guinness is a gross concoction and the taste hasn't grown on me, so I asked the Secret Service to track down an alternative that they can quietly slip me should the need arise. They came up with a Guinness glass filled with a Diet Cola topped with a squirt of instant cream, which looks surprisingly convincing.
I'm writing this entry much earlier than usual. Early Wednesday I will board Air Force One with my usual effortless trot up the stairs, for the cameras, on a two-day trip via Vegas, to Boulder, Roswell and Oklahoma to be photographed on oilfields and next to solar panels. Jarrett and Axelrod think we need to show Joe Sixpack that we're doing something about sky-high gas prices. Not that we can do anything at this stage: but, as they keep reminding me, it's all about the optics.
