Respect Authority

In the interest of national security, President Obama isn’t allowed to have a Respect Authority account and therefore will post infrequent updates from his friends’ accounts.

From the snowy peaks of the Catskill Mountains to the temperate zone of Orange County, we have crisscrossed this great nation for about two months, charged with the people’s work of hope and change.

To be honest, Air Force One is great and all but the workload, stress levels and tension headaches are getting pretty annoying pretty fast. Sixty days ago, I thought I had this. I said to myself, “Barack, you’re a young, smart guy with a slightly larger than average penis — you got this.” But now I’m not so sure.

For example, last week I was on the Tonight Show. Sure, the venue was a bit unusual if not unbecoming of the office, but I was just trying to keep things light, especially appealing in the face of, oh well I dunno, something like a depression. And so there I am, with Jay, and I accidentally make a retard joke. Fuck my life.

Whatever, alright? What. Ever. They can deal. If those dummies can’t bring themselves to serve in the Army, flip a burger, submit to genetic experimentation, or do anything other than be an unrelenting (yet heartwarming) drain on our society, then they can stand to be the butt of a joke while I blow off some presidential steam.

Does anyone have any idea what its like to watch your presidency decay into a parody of the Morgan Freeman administration? I mean, AIG is my comet for God’s sake. AIG! These days, I only have one dream. In it, millions of balding white men with thin-frame glasses are hurtling towards me, pelting me with financial analysis masked in golf metaphors that have been veneered with basketball jive for my sake. I run for cover but I can never find shelter.

At a loss, I tried beating my wife the other day but it didn’t take. Sixty days in and nothing’s sticking. To be honest with you, I don’t even want this job anymore. I don’t. It still feels like a campaign. I go on TV and tell people what I want and expect and nothing happens. I sign papers and they become as legally binding as executive orders made by a mental patient pretending to be president in an insane asylum.

So here’s a preview of America on day 101 of my presidency: President Biden will be welcoming his personal plastic surgeon into the Lincoln Bedroom because I quit.

Fuck this shit and God bless the United States of America.