Dear Diary: Duty called me back to the nation's helm after a glorious few days playing golf at Larry Ellison's private links at Palm Springs. It was snowing as I disembarked from Air Force One at Joint Base Andrews, so I was not able to take my accustomed ride on the Marine One chopper to the White House, but I had to ride in The Beast and join the common herd driving into the city protected only by a motorcade of black Secret Service Suburbans.
