Dear Diary: A better day. The dog-eating hysteria has died to a whimper. Same goes for the Secret Service debacle. Great weather in DC this morning so Me, Biden, Mike Brush and Marvelous Marv motorcaded to Andrews for golf. I played my usual immaculate game, taking calls between holes to keep up with events. It's no surprise that my czars are awed by my ability to multitask. Today, I put a digital recorder in my shirt pocket to record a sample of dialog for myriad biographies that will be written about my incomparable, shining presidency. "OK, give a me five iron. Yeah, Leon, it's OK to use a drone to take out al-Assad... hold for a second...Janet, you want to fire Director Sullivan for the Cartagena screw-up? No, first let's wait to see what dirt he's got on all of us, Joe in particular. I'll have the putter now... hey, Joe, what the heck! How did your ball get a foot nearer the hole... Leon are you still there? I've got no problem with stepping up drone attacks in Yemen...Fore!"
Yes, my nimble multitasking is breathtaking to hear, though I say so myself...and I do. I guess it's that time again, close the laptop, say a brief prayer to myself and join Michelle who is still awake, reading. And so to bed and the restorative touch of Boo-boo, my blankey who love Barry, um-num-num-um...
Yes, my nimble multitasking is breathtaking to hear, though I say so myself...and I do. I guess it's that time again, close the laptop, say a brief prayer to myself and join Michelle who is still awake, reading. And so to bed and the restorative touch of Boo-boo, my blankey who love Barry, um-num-num-um...