President Obama Preys On The Seven Deadly Sins

In an exclusive interview, the President sat down over a dark beer with The Commentator and talked all kinds.

Note from T.C.: I met with Barack Obama at a local diner. I didn't see any secret servicemen until they emerged from the bathroom followed by a couple of sweet chicks. Obama snapped his fingers and told me, "yo, over here." He seemed to go out of his way to present a relaxed atmosphere as he rolled his sleeves and winked a lot. He went a little over board when he removed his socks and shoes and went all Huckleberry Finn on me. We talked about a lot of things, see, including his deepest most insecure, intimate thoughts. "I have a jelly fetish. Some people leave cum stains. I leave jam stains all over the place. It drives Micheline crazy...Excuse me? Right, Michelle." Here's part of the interview.

T.C.: Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. President.
Obama: No problem.
T.C: Or should I say, Senor Presidente?
Obama: No problemo. (laughter)
T.C: About illegal Mexican immigration. Invasion or not?
Obama: You see... (waitress takes order)
Obama: I'll have a cappuccino. Make it two for my Italian friend, here.
Waitress: Cinnamon or chocolate?
Obama: Cumin.
Waitress: And for you?
T.C.: Cacao.
Obama: What class!
T.C.: You were saying?
Obama: Saying? Right. People usually forget by now. You're a sharpie.
T.C: Well?
Obama: Were the Romans concerned when Germanic tribes entered their great city?
T.C.: I think they were.
Obama: Did the Spaniards kick out or merely asked the Moops politely to leave?
T.C.: I'm pretty sure they booted their asses back to North Africa.
Obama: Ooo, there's fight in you.
T.C.: With the election around the corner, it looks like Americans are concerned most about jobs and the economy.
Obama: They'll worry about what I'll tell them to worry about. I's the Pres'dent.
T.C.: I'm not sure I follow. What is your plan to get Americans back to work?
Obama: Oh, for Heaven's Sake (pronounces it Sa-keh). Is that all you got? Awright, awright, I'll bite. One number. Two words.
T.C.: Excuse me?
Obama. Seven. Deadly. Sins.
T.C.: What about them?
Obama: What school you go to? It certainly wasn't Harvard. How many deadly sins?
T.C.: Seven?
Obama: I plan to open seven new departments declaring war on each sin. I expect to create a billion jobs.
T.C.: Waitress! I'll have a gin straigt up. I may regret this but what are the SDS?
Obama: Pride, jealousy, gluttony (Michelle talks about this all the time), Bashful, something, something.
T.C.: Ok, even if those are correct, you named just six.
Obama: Well then that's one less department. That should shut the right-wingers up. We just saved, I dunno, $700 million. Can I get an amen?

At this point in the conversation I sat back, scratched my head and wondered if this was worth the time.  Looking over Obama's shoulders, I noticed a picture of a deer in a headlight. The metaphor was appropriate I thought. Beside it, there was a picture of a zebra being torn apart by a lion. Obama just sat there eating chicken wings.

Obama: Why so quiet, there?
T.C.: Just thinking.
Obama: Thinking, huh? You won't need to think by the time I'm done with things.
T.C.: What do you mean?
Obama: You think too much. Let us take care of you.
T.C.: I'm Canadian.
Obama: What? Canadiun? Is that like Cajun? 
T.C.: Not sure.
Obama: Do you guys have 'knock, knock' jokes up there?
T.C.: Nothing but subsidized 'knock, knock' jokes.
Obama: Now you talking my language. Fairness!
T.C.: I have to go put my kid to bed.
Obama: Need a hand?
T.C.: I think I got it.
Obama (slips bill): This too?
T.C.(sighs): Sigh.
Obama: Attaboy. I need the money saved here to pay for mortgages, extend unemployment benefits, cover medical insurance costs, and of course, for my war on the seven deadly sins.
T.C: Still on that?
Obama: On what?
T.C.: Have a nice day.
Obama (winks): You too.

And so I left. What I left behind I'm not sure. I lit a cigarette and peered through the window of the surreal diner from which Obama sat. He was making Mussolini-type gestures and frowns with the waitress. He was laughing, she wasn't. It reminded me of a 'knock, knock' joke.

Knock Knock
Who is there?
Broken pencil
Broken pencil who?
Ah never mind. it’s a pointless joke