by Henry “Mack Truck” Harvey
Well, well. Mr. Obama, you are finally President Obama. The day has finally come. Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you. Coo coo ca-choo.
Well, pardon me for pointing this out, but I can’t help but notice that there are still problems. I don’t understand how that’s possible. I thought you were the problem eraser, Mr. President. I thought you were like one of those magic cleaning cloths that you just rub over the problem and it goes away. That’s what I thought. (By the way, those things are amazing. I spilled chocolate syrup all over the bathroom, and you’d never know it. Fantastic.)
But alas, it doesn’t seem to be true. Here we are, several whole days now since you were inaugurated, and I see the economy is still in shambles. I see that unemployment is still incredibly high. I see that homes are still being foreclosed on all over the place, and no one can get a loan. (I can get a loan, but that’s because my mother co-signs.)
I can’t help but be skeptical, given where you’ve chosen to put your energy in these early days. For instance, couldn’t you have maybe done some work on your first official day in office? All I saw you doing on that day was dancing with your wife in twenty different places, listening to Bruce Springsteen scream about something (probably about how the working class gets screwed all the time), and trying not to fall asleep during whatever that poet lady was talking about. On your first full day in office, the next day, you phoned several Middle East leaders. Well, that’s great. I’m glad to hear that. How about calling a couple of Americans? Got time for that? I know we’re not “leaders” or “heads of state,” but we’re people. And we have phones. In fact, if you have Sprint, it would be free for you to call me.
One of the executive orders you signed means Guantanamo prison will close. Is this your plan for dealing with the economic crisis, Mr. President? Free the terrorists so they can kill us all, thus doing away with the suffering of the people by doing away with the people? They were right when they said you were smart.
Now, problems are difficult to deal with. That’s why they’re called problems. And I really do hope, for the sake of the country, that you solve them all. In order to do that, though, I think you might have to spend a little less time freeing Ahmed and his flock of merry, suicidal martyrs, and more time freeing Eddie the American from having to steal money from his wife’s purse just to go to the strip club.