Potus, OpenMic part V

"The police down there will shoot you.  Love it or leave it, fancy college boy."
Potus drank from the cup next to him and put it down.  "Where were we?  Protesting college students.  Ah yes, well do I remember the protests of my youth, Contragate and what have you.  Oh, I almost forgot, another thing college students do all day is play loud rock-and-roll and have sex.  That's not good.  Not as bad as doing drugs and protesting, but still bad."
Potus looked up at the director, motioning frantically.  "Oh yes," he said.  "Um," and he leaned forward to read the screen.  His elbow knocked over the glass, spilling water on the desk.  Two aides came to clean up in a rush.  Potus stood up to one side and with his hands on his hips said, "Fargo, you're on."
A woman appeared looking quizzically at the screen.  She addressed someone off screen and said, "All I see is a hand on a hip next to an empty chair.  See?"  Fargo pointed.
Potus moved behind his chair and stopped to be seen.  "Can you see me now?" he asked.
"I can see your neck," she answered.
Potus leaned lower.  The aides had nearly finished drying the 100 year old desk.  "Can you see my now?"
"Yes," she answered.  "Much better.  I'd like to know how we can lesson the partisanship and lobbying in the capitol.  What do you intend to do to break the gridlock?"
"Very good question," answered Potus as he sat down.  "I am upset at the lobbies as well.  I personally have shut down their power by vetoing any bill sent to me.  How many have I vetoed?" Potus asked behind the cameras.
Chief of Staff yelled out "Twenty four."
"Twenty four," said Potus, pleased as punch.  "Twenty four.  You see that there?  I can veto more.  Those fools in Congress have tried to come crawling over and begging to see me and I send them packing.  They're coming over saying," here Potus began half-singing, "'Hey Potus you're so fine, you blow my mind.  Hey Potus.  Hey Potus.'"
Potus looked at the screen and the staff people looking back at him.  "What?"  he asked.
"Ok," Potus acknowledged.  "Next up, sunny Tallahassee."
An extremely tanned elderly man addressed the screen.  "Mr.  President.  Which one is bigger, a dinghy or a schooner.  Thank you, liberals eat my ass."
"What was that?" Potus wondered.  "Dinghy or a raft?  I guess a raft."

Potus, OpenMic Part IV

"No more Pacific Northwest calls," he said icily.  "Let's see, Champlain, go ahead."
A young man appeared.  "I'd like to know what you plan on doing about genocide around the world and what steps America can take to address this problem."
Potus rolled his eyes.  "I suppose you're in college, son?"
"Yes Sir," said Champlain brightening visibly.
"I can tell.  Let me tell you son, all that fancy learning doesn't amount to a hill of beans if you don't have some common sense.  All they teach you in your fancy college classes is how to protest some obscure nonsense in some place no one in their right mind would live.  If people are killing you, guess what?  You leave.  That was easy.  What other kinds of problems can I solve today?"
Champlain protested, "But Mr. President, in Darfur..."
"Mr. President...  wah wah wah," Potus mocked.  Champlain disappeared from the screen.  "Next up, Beaverton, wait really?  I said no Pacific Northwest.  I'm not going to talk to beaver town.  1-800-NO-BEAVERS.  Go to the next one.  Next up, Cleveland" here Potus began imitating a soccer announcer "Ohhhh Hiiii Ohhhhh!"
A round faced bald man stared out from the screen.  "Hello," Cleveland said.
"Pleased to meet you," said Potus.
"Ayup," said Cleveland.
"Let meal you a question," said Potus leaning forward.  Cleveland nodded.  "Let me ask a personal question."
"Shoot," said Cleveland.
"Bang!" said Potus, quick-drawing a gun hand.  They both chuckled.  Potus continued, "Are all the professors in Ohio outstanding in their fields?"
Cleveland raised a hand to his head and rubbed it.  "Yeah, I reckon they do."
"Good enough then," said Potus, motioning for another location.  "Citizens in Oklahoma City, what do you have to say?"
A young woman appeared.  "Mr. President, I am a teacher here at Putnam elementary, and I'm worried about budget cuts that affect my job and our children.  What kinds of promises can you make our children?"
Potus answered, "Well, first of all, as you know, the federal government has no jurisdiction in education according to the constitution, and I'm only really sticking to the bare bones of what it says, as I took the oath do so.  That said, Congress tries to bribe the states into doing things by giving the states money.  Then like my evil step mother-in-law Martha -- may she rest in peace God bless her ugly soul -- they try to control you."  Potus made a cupping motion with his hand, then squeezed the empty air in it.
Potus continued, "So if, say, California budgets fifty billion dollars for education and Congress gives them ten billion dollars, then they'll raise another thirty billion from the super Powerball Lottery and spend thirty billion on salaries and pensions for retired teachers.  Forty billion will be spent to cover deficits for pet tree projects.  The the other thirty billion will be spent on salaries and pensions for retired state workers.  The actual students get zero.  Teachers spend an average of five hours in class, three and a half actually doing course work with students.  That's dictated by their union thugs.  So the best thing to do is break up the unions, fire the bureaucratic administrators and start teaching students again."
Potus paused.  "Of course, the federal government can't do that, so never mind.  Next, Tucson."
A young latino man looked out from the screen.  "Sir, your comments about undocumented students in colleges was anti-immigration and vitriolic.  What do you intend to do about these hard working Americans?"
Potus was annoyed.  "Are you sure you're a citizen?  They're supposed to check ID..."
Tucson jerked his thumb over his shoulder.  "They checked my passport," he said defiantly.
"I wonder why you have a passport?  Probably to visit your parents in Mexico.  Anyway, the fact is that college students don't do anything other than protest, drink and smoke drugs.  So what if a few of the illegal ones get deported?  They'll just go to college in Mexico and protest down there.  But don't smoke dope down there," Potus warned.  "The police down there will shoot you.  Love it or leave it, fancy college boy."

Potus, OpenMic Part III

New York smiled and put up a peace symbol.
Potus read the next city on the screen.  "Jackson Hole, you're live streaming with the President."
A thoughtful middle aged man appeared and said, "Mr. President, unemployment around here is near 9%.  I would like to hear what you're going to do about jobs in this economy.  Thank you, and God bless."
Potus smiled broadly.  "Well met, plains brother.  Home of the big sky.  Unfortunate choice of city name.  Anyway, time for some bad news.  As I said in my inaugural address, the executive branch doesn't create jobs.  First, the private sector does that.  Second, we just enforce the laws that the legislative branch tries to pass and we agree to.  So as I've said, I'm folding my arms and won't agree to anything.  There you go.
"Who's next?"  Potus squinted.  "San Diego.  Home of the Diegos."
A woman peered out from the screen.  "Wow, it's true, it's really true.  I'm talking to the President."
Potus nodded impatiently, "Yes, hurry up, you only have 60 seconds."
The woman nodded and continued excitedly.  "I just wanted to say I think you're doing great.  I know a lot of Californians can't stand your guts," Potus winced, "but this is just what we need to lead our country.  So thank you very much."
By the end of her speech, Potus beamed.  "Thank you, fine patriot.  Thank you for speaking for all of America and California in your support of the Office.  That is what makes our country so great."
Potus took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed the corner of his eye.  "Who's next.  Um, Anchorage."
A middle aged man with a bushy beard appeared on the screen.  "Mr. President, my question is about clean energy to drive this nation forward.  Alaska has a lot of natural resources and we can tap into them to gain energy independence.  Do you support building new pipelines and new drilling sites to create jobs and energy?"
Potus nodded.  "First of all, sir, thank you for your sacrifice for this country.  Not many people could live as far away from society and heat as you do to bring us valuable resources that we need.  The lower 48 percent salute you."  Potus made a snappy salute.  "Second, as far as drilling and pipelines, let's do it.  Nobody's stopping you, just a bear and some ice.  God forbid the environ-wackos find out we broke some ice.  The ice is going to melt anyway.  Climate change and all that.  People in Alaska have the right attitude:  sit in the ice hole of the world and wait for the heat to turn on while the rest of us losers burn.  I salute you again, sir."
Potus saluted, then left his hand up to shade his eyes so he could read "Spokane, you're up.  Speaking of hellholes," he smirked.
A young white man in a hoodie looked suicidal.  "What do you mean, hellhole?"
"You know, a place where hell is." Potus answered.
The young man scowled inside his hoodie.  "Eff you buddy," cursed Spokane.  Two men in suits grabbed him from either side before the screen blanked out.
Potus rose in his seat.  "Oh no, eff you, buddy.  I've had shoes thrown at me.  You can't scare me.  All you have in Washington is trees and the name of the greatest President this country has ever known.  Suck it, Lewis and Clark lovers," said Potus, making a crude gesture with his hand on his crotch, half standing.  He paused and sat down.
He pointed a finger at the director.  "No more Pacific Northwest calls," he said icily.

Potus, OpenMic part II

Potus waved his hand at the director to say, “go on” and said, “Obviously, next time we’ll have a button I can press to yank people off.  New York, who’s next?”

New York showed a dark skinned man in his mid thirties with a grey hoodie over the top of his head.  He spoke, “Yo, man, I think it’s great.  I’m just here to support the President of the United States!  Go USA!”

Potus smiled broadly and made a fist-bump toward the camera.  He said, “What’s up my man?”

New York smiled.  “That’s cool man, that’s cool.  Hey, uh, I wanted to ask about legalising marijuana, man.  We got a lot of uncool things going on around marijuana, man, the Feds have been shutting us down and we can’t get our medicine.  So I was wondering what you thought about that.”

Potus frowned.  “Well, first of all, thank you for speaking for all of American and New York when we say that marijuana, or ‘dope’ as it’s called, shouldn’t be legalised.  There are many reasons that we fight against legalisation, mainly because it’s a drug.  It’s not medicine.  You don’t smoke medicine.  Everyone knows that.  The Federal government is opposed to the raising of a generation of smoked out pothead hippies wearing hoodies -- no offense.  Those fruits over in California are always trying to lead the nation down the wrong path by allowing anybody with some aches and pains to smoke dope for a living.  We won’t put up with that.  Stay strong young man.”

New York smiled and put up a peace symbol.

Potus, introductions part VIII

Meanwhile in the executive briefing room just outside the oval office, the Secretary of Defense was introducing Potus to the daily morning ritual.
"Sir," SoD said, "this is the famous Daily Brief specially prepared everyday for the presidents.  It had all the current news that will help you keep up with developments here and abroad."
Potus rubbed his hands together with glee.  "Kind of like the USA Today you get at the Hilton Express," he enthused.
SoD tried to correct Potus.  "Well, Sir, it's a bit more in-depth than Reuters and AP articles.  These briefs are put together by the finest minds at Langley."
Potus interrupted with a mischievous smile, "Those CIA folks put out their own briefs every day?"
Not taking the bait, the Secretary of Defense answered, "Yes, Sir, they write" (extra emphasis) "the brief daily for the president and his staff."
"Let's see," said Potus scanning the folder.  "Yemen conflicts yada yada yada, Syria blah blah blah, ok, here we go:  the French Prime Minister's Mistress photographed in naked Riviera romp!  What, no pictures?"
SoD rolled his eyes and directed Potus to the next page in the folder.  Potus sighed.  "Well that's disappointing.  Nobody likes to see a middle aged Coach purse jumping into the water."
The other officials in the room nodded politely, looking at the same page.
"Sir, as you can see," began the Secretary of Defense.
Potus interrupted excitedly, "Whoah, mama, Iran's got nukes?  Those Israel nutcases must be going apeshit."
"No Sir," corrected SoD patiently.  "They could have nuclear capabilities in a few years.  Israel is officially willing to wait for a diplomatic solution for now."
"That's crazy," said Potus, "we should go bomb the shit out of them right now.  Where are my nukes?  I'll show them.  Where's my thingee, whatsit, the briefcase with the codes in it?  The football?"
The Secretary of Defense tried to calm Potus down.  "Sir, that's fiction.  It doesn't work that way.  There are no 'codes in a briefcase' anymore.  They're is no 'football'.  Believe me, I'd love to nuke the shot out of those Iranian freaks, believe me, we've tried.  But you have to build a consensus, talk to the United Nations," SoD wanted his hands in front of himself.   "It's a whole thing."
Potus nodded.  "Tell me about these UN assholes.  They live rent free in their own little country on Manhattan island and we foot the bill for all that?"
The Secretary of Defense made a "more or less" gesture and nodded.
"When does that lease expire?  Let's tell them they've been evicted.  Hit the bricks bucko.  Fifty ways to lose your lover!"
SoD looked surprised.  "I don't know, Sir, well have to, um  find out, and uh..."
"Let's do that," said Potus.  "Get ten people on that.  Let's see what we can do.  We are making progress!" Potus crowed with delight.  "My first day on the job and I'm making some progress!"