Dear Diary: A day fit for a king president! After my morning briefing I was flown aboard Airforce One to Cleveland, where I delivered some remarks on the economy (doing fine. Or maybe not). Then it was back on board my trusty 747 for a nap on the way to New York and a tour of the new World Trade Center site. How gloriously fitting it would be if it were named 'The Obama Tower,' a name that would unite the nation in gratitude for my presidency. [Note to self: drop hint to Bloomberg] . Anyhow, after the trade center I braved the uncouth imprecations of angry cabdrivers stuck in the traffic jam our motorcade created-- to bestow myself upon the brownstone home of Sarah Jessica Parker, for a fundraiser hosted jointly by Sarah and Vogue editor Anna Wintour who is said to be angling for the US ambassadorship to London where she was raised. The complications of an ambassador with a British accent representing the US in Britain are difficult to untangle -- even for an intellect as formidable as mine -- but I always enjoy my time among fawning acolytes, if acolytes can fawn, if not, then I hereby decree that they can. Then I was whisked away from the glitterati to the opulence of The Plaza for yet another fundraiser with Mariah Carey. After which I boarded AF1 again for the flight to DC. I have commanded that the plane land gently at Andrews, while I continue sleeping on board, only showering and disembarking in the morning, which is why I am writing this diary entry now. Time to curl up with Boo-booTwo, my emergency blankey, which Marv, my trip director, packs for such situations. Barry luv Boo-booTwo, um-num-num-um-zzzzz...
