Obama is My Friend

Last night I had a wonderful dream that Barak Obama was at my family Thanksgiving feast. At first it was awkward. Hey...Mr...President...do you want a....thigh...bone? Then it was exciting. Hey! Obama's at my house! Obama's at my house! WOOO HOOO Obama's at my house! I called my friend Stacy and I said, "Stacy, you will never guess who came to Thanksgiving!" Obama. OH BAMA.

I never thought of Obama as the kind of guy you would invite to Thanksgiving. Everyone knows to avoid politics at the dinner table. And if Obamas in the house, sucking down Cold Duck and deviled eggs, looking all Presidential and Democratic and well, political, a convo without politics may be damn near impossible. "So your house...it's white..."

BUT THEN, I heard about Obama's "Special Olympics" comment on Jay Leno, and I was like..damn, I could really hang out with this dude. Obama is a funny dude. I read in the barely credible In Touch Magazine that 27% of pollees lost respect for Obama after that comment. He actually gained my respect, and my friendship if he were ever to want it. Political correctness is pretty much the last thing I care about in a person. And it's not like he said, Jay, I bowl like a retard Jay. A fucking mongoloid. Or when asked what he though about Bush, "Oh that crazy cracker, he's going straight to hell with all of those other Nazis." No, he used Special Olympics as an adjective, and it was funny.

I also read in the barely credible United Airlines in flight magazine, that he occassionly smokes a cigarette to release stress. Cool, we can smoke the errant socially stress-free cigarette, use nouns as adjectives and chillax out on my roof.

This is the kind of friendship I've been looking for. Obama, your humanity is astounding. Let's hang.