Dear Diary: Quel jour! ['what a day!' for those not privileged enough to have acquired some French.] I managed six fundraisers in Maryland and Pennsylvania. My subjects, how they adore me! Meanwhile I am surrounded in the White House by those who indulge in wailing and gnashing of teeth at every setback. They forget that my re-election is inevitable. My Commerce Secretary, whose name escapes me --Bronson, I think -- had a brush with the law at the weekend. We have put out a standard "our thoughts are with him and his family at this difficult time" statement and are hoping for the best. Meantime that daggone Vlad the Impaler is sending attack helicopters to Syria... despite the fact that I have already made it clear to him that I'm really, really annoyed about his support for Assad. Why won't such people respond to my ultra-smart diplomacy? I arrived home from Philadelphia very late and, having tucked up M., I am ready for bed myself and the soothing charms of Boo-boo, my blankey. Barry luv Boo-boo... um-num-num-um...zzzzz...
