A Message to President Obama…
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Finally! Definitive proof that, even at the subconscious level, V’ger Brane here is a total, utter, unrepentant smartass. (Not that there was really any doubt left, but still…)
Right before I woke up today, I dreamed someone was doing a political survey for the Obama campaign; called me [happened to be one of the times that I’m totally in the mood to wax bitch-errific]; asked if it were OK to record the conversation [sure]; and my lil ol’, formerly-mousy, nervous-when-talking-to-any-group/stranger Self calmly, coolly, and oh-so-thoroughly shot down each and every talking point that a dyed-in-the-wool, lifelong democrat such as yours truly would be expected to be all giddy-fied over, e.g. …
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“If [this-n-that…], why did he name Tom Vilsack, a Monsanto man, as AGSec?”
“If [yadda-yadda…], why did he choose Jeffery Immelt, GE’s outsourcing/tax-dodging King of the Universe, as his liaison with the business community?”
“If [blah-blah…], fracking? Seriously?! Will a lower heating bill really matter if we’re falling into sinkholes and quake cracks, our tap water is flammable, and deadly hydrocarbons such as benzine are poisoning our kids?”
And so on. Yeah, I was on a roll. And a bagel. With cream cheese and strawberry jam.
I finally paused, took a deep breath, and said, “Sorry, I’m really passionate about all this… What was the last question?” The survey guy cracked up – turned out he was loving every second of it [who knew?] – and asked, “Do you plan to vote this year?” Me: “Oh, yes, I’ll walk three miles to vote for him again because a center-right POTUS is better than one who’s gone so far-right that he’s about to tumble off the eastern edge of his flat earth.” Dood lost it. LOST. IT.
“I’m sure the President would appreciate hearing all you’ve had to say. Do you mind if I pass this recording onto him?” Me: [gulp] “Please do!”
“Is there anything else you would like to say to him?” Me [pretty much tapped out at that point]: “Uh… yes, tell him when Michelle told him not to do that milk joke, he should have listened.” [Pause while survey dood tries to catch his breath again….]
“In summary, one last question: If you had to pick a number, what percentage of the time would you say you agree with President Obama?” Me: “Well, I agree with at least 90% of what he says; the problem is that, while he talks a good game, at least 50% of the time, he then walks through the door and either caves – out of a sincere but misguided attempt to ‘go along to get along’ – or flat-out plays for the other team. We need a POTUS who is a passionate LEADER, who takes a firm stand for We The People, for the planet, for the Rule of Law, and for Sanity itself!”
“Thank you very much for your input. I’m sure President Obama will appreciate it.” Me: “You’re very welcome” [as I’m thinking: Heh, yeah… when pigs fly backwards whistling a catchy Gershwin tune…]. The typical goodbyes. ::click::
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At that point, I started to regain consciousness [sort of] and thought: Wow, cool dream, hope I remember it (which rarely happens). Half-awake me stumbled over here, hit the button to switch my power strip on; tripped on into the kitchen; and, as I was standing there filling my glass, found myself wondering: Why are Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons singing in my head??? Suddenly achieved full focus and damn near died laffin’… The song that I was ‘hearing’ was “Walk Like a Man.”
Oh, V’ger Brane, you are *such* a smartass!
But just do it, O. PLEASE. It’s now or never. Seriously.
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