Politics in America 40: Who Put the Boogie in Boogie Woogie?  

Just as the President was doing a wee wee in the Presidential wee wee room and going aaaahhhhh, there was a shattering of glass in the Oval Office.

The Vice President wasn’t up to talking to an Ambassador. He had had a rough day, figuring out how to get out of some ceremonial things. This job as Vice President had turned out to be more work than Maynard Gee was up for. If they asked him to run with the President for a second term, he was not gonna. He would put his left foot down, then raise his right foot up and shake it all about and turn himself around and do the hokey pokey if necessary.

The Ambassador from Some-Godforsaken-Place-He-Couldn’t-Pronounce was bored. This meeting with the President wasn’t what it was cracked up to be. This P F Sneaze was a dud as far as he was concerned. Why had he taken this Ambassadorship when it was offered?

Because it was his patriotic duty, that’s why. Nobody else would do it. No wonder America was snoozing along. They had a pig farmer for a President. At least, the people of his country had chosen a chicken farmer. He was proud to have a President called The Big Clucker.

While the President stood at the urinal and let it all hang out, his bunion was putting a real hurt on his foot. His shoe was killing him. He was going to have to do something about that bunion.

In the meantime out in the dark and stormy night, things happened as they often do despite every precaution we take to ward off the Pickled Finger of Fate. Big Al was wrestling Stever the Clever, and Stever the Cleaver was wrestling Big Al. Then The Cleaver did a couple of early sixties dance moves. He twisted and he watusied and he broke loose. He was up on Bessie Mae Hogg so fast that even he was surprised.

Big Al barely saw The Cleaver through the dark night. It was so dark that Big Al could have cut the darkness with a knife.

In fact, that is exactly what he did. He took out his Jim Bowie knife and sliced the indigo in two. The rip in the curtain of the night allowed Big Al to spy the pig assassinator. He reached The Cleaver in two seconds flat.

Big Al was on The Cleaver like a dog on a bone. Lickety-split. He tackled The Cleaver and brought him down. The Cleaver crashed onto the rain-soaked grass nose-downward. He pulled the trigger on the gun.

Now of all the gin joints in the world, that bullet just had to walk into the President’s joint. The bullet sped out of the barrel of that gun. It crashed through the French doors, then whistled right by the Vice President’s ear, missing the Ambassador by a nose. It headed straight to the President’s john.

The bullet crashed through the keyhole and dashed toward the President just as he zipped up and turned.

Next Week Danger, Will Robinson. Danger, danger. 

Politics in America 39: What in the Name of Betty Sue Pudding Is Going On? 

The President of the United States was in the Oval Office. He was doing Oval Office things. Like meeting the Ambassador from Some-Godforsaken-Place-He-Couldn’t-Pronounce. It was a dark and stormy night outside but he was all snug and cozy in the White House.

The Ambassador introduced himself. Of course, The Great Man, P F Sneaze, couldn’t understand the language. As far as he was concerned, it was gibberish. It was French.

He shook the dude’s hand and they tête-à-têted for a while. Tête-à-tête is French for shaking hands and making the most out of an uncomfortable situation. Like acting like you’re listening to an ambassador about something or other in French.

The President had to go for a pee. He knew it would be improper protocol to take a bathroom break right then. But it was getting to the point where he had to go bad. Really bad.

Now we all know that, when the President needs to go and take a leak and he doesn’t get to because he’s protocoling all over the place, all heck can break loose. He may accidentally push the red button and take out a country that was minding its own business. That was just about what was about to take place.

About this time, Maynard Gee, the Vice President who had not worked a day in his life, walked in on the President and the Ambassador. He took one look at the situation and he thought it might be a good idea if he got the heck out of Dodge.

One thing was for sure. When Maynard Gee smelled a lick of work, he was real good at getting hisself out of Dodge. He had graduated summa cum laude at the Institute of Getting-the-Heck-Out-Of-Dodge.

The President could hardly control himself. He had to pee that bad. He beckoned the V P over to say a big hey to the Ambassador. What can a Vice President do when a President beckons him over to do this or that? He definitely goes over to do this or that. It’s his job to do this or that, even if it means that he has to take out the garbage. After all, nobody but nobody says nay to the Leader of the Free World. Especially if that Leader is The Great Man.

The Vice President was cornered. So he did what any self-respecting Vice President would do. He walked over. The President indicated that he needed to be excused and he would be right back. When meeting an Ambassador, what does a Vice President talk about. The price of eggs in China, of course.

It was a good thing that the Vice President understood gibberish. I mean French.

The President said, “I’ll be right back.” Then he hurried out of the room. Well, it wasn’t exactly a room. It was the Oval Office. But he did hurry out of it.

So there’s the Vice President tête-à-têting with the Ambassador from Some-Godforsaken-Place-He-Couldn’t-Pronounce and they were discussing the price of eggs in China when, you guessed it–

Next Week: Should Have Gotten Himself Out of Dodge