"I believe I can fly.
I believe I can touch the sky
One of the problems of being President is what to do with your kids on an occasion like Halloween. We can't just go knocking on random doors. This year we answered the problem by arranging for the Bidens to spend the early evening at their official residence in DC, so Malia and Sasha could dress up in weird costumes ring the doorbell and hopefully get some chocolate. Still high as a kite on Blueberry Yum Yum, I went with them and a Secret Service detail. We stood well back as the kids rang the doorbell. When the door opened, they yelled: "Trick or Treat." At first, fueled by the weed, I laughed uproariously, but then I got a good look at the man's face in the porch light and my blood turned to ice. It was Putin! Aauuugh! I screamed and I turned and fled down the driveway with my Secret Service detail in hot pursuit, "Sir! Sir!" they cried. " It's OK. It's only Vice President Biden in a Putin mask." I slowed to a walk and looked back, warily. Joe Biden was standing on the porch doubled up with laughter, the mask in his hands. Bastard --as if the past couple weeks haven't been sufficiently ego-bruising. But enough about me.