Dear Diary: My iPresidentophone has been going beserk this morning, sounding all the ring-tones I have assigned, from Song of The Volga Boatmen, through Hava Nagila, and Rule Britannia, to Nkosi Sikelel iAfrika. Enough already! Don't these people know that I have a round of golf to attend to? I stuffed the phone under my pillows to serenade itself harmlessly, until maybe a housekeeper picks it up: " Mr Putin? Mr Cameron? Angular Merkel? I apologize, but the President is out on the links...." Hopefully these pesky folks will tire of pursuing me at all hours, expecting me to DO something about ISIS: To confront them before they reach our homelands. But, as the masses know, that's not my style. I prefer a more nuanced, intellectual approach. But enough about me.
