Crazy Sexy Governing

Presidents are the shit. Honestly, you and I spend a lot of time complaining about them, but you and I don’t really matter. I think most people would get freaked out if they just had to be President during brunch.

Even a President’s lazy Sunday is more important than the busiest day I will probably ever have. I could have my first child, win the lottery, invent a new type of dog bowl and cure lupus all on the same day and it would probably still have a smaller impact than when the President makes a casual phone call to a billionaire after recently having used the bathroom.

If I was President I would never need to wash my hands after using the bathroom. This is saying a lot because I am big on the hand washing. Also, I’m the guy who has to use a clean paper towel to avoid touching the bathroom handle on his way out of the bathroom.

But being President would change all that. I would walk around essentially feeling like the Man all the time. Which, coincidentally, I would be. When poor people and college students sit on street corners talking about “Fuck the man,” it would be me that they were talking about.

And I would be fine with that.

So why wipe my hands? I would come to believe that germs, too, had to do what I say. Since most sickness originates in the mind, I would also come to believe that my joints would feel just fine after a 10K and I would soon be setting personal bests all over the place.

George W. Bush, you can tell, felt that way. When people asked him questions about the decisions he had taken, he always gave some version of essentially the same answer: “I’m the President. And who the fuck are you?”

“Mr. President, where are the WMDs?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Mr. President, what’s up with No Child Left Behind?”

“Again. Who the fuck are you?”

Then you would try remind him of who you were and he would have another answer that was basically always the same:

“You are who I say you are.”

Of course, the trick of being a President is knowing that while it is, firstly, your job to believe that you are never to respect anyone more than you respect yourself, the second job of a President is to surround yourself with people who will never disobey your orders and will affirm your feelings as to your own incredible self-worth.

I am not being ironic here. This is actually true. You want incredibly smart, ambitious, expert people who will always do everything within their power to help you understand things better in the way you see them. Example:

Minion: “I think that an aggressive posture towards Russia, in light of history’s lessons, will not be beneficial to us, Mr. President.”

You: “That might be true. But have I ever told you the joke about never trusting a Russian?”

Minion: “Ah yes, Mr. President. Your wisdom borders on sorcery. I will craft a foreign policy immediately that ensures we have those crazy Slavs surrounded on every front, so that they can’t so much as take a piss in their backyard without first asking us if they can step on the grass.”

Infallible Man; Fallible Dentition.

See how easy that is?

Minions are the best.

So this Presidents’ Day, take a moment to appreciate the incredible level of psychosis a person has to ascend to before they are willing and able to become such a thing as a President. Remember, especially, the two Presidents in whose honor this holiday was established: Washington and Lincoln. Warrior and Lawyer. Our two greatest Uniters.

Which leads me to the third most important job a President has to do, after he has massaged his ego into near 24-hour ecstasy.

He has to be the Great Uniter.

This fact, unfortunately, seems to have escaped most of our recent commandantes. Here’s hoping we’ll find one soon who, like the Unibrow’s great linkage, can unite the two extremes in bristly harmony.

And, as always, please enjoy my most favorite Presidential YouTube animation clip. An annual tradition here at Hard To Say Enterprises, the George Washington rap is pure brill.

2 responses »

  1. mooselicker says:

    No Martin Van Buren? Blasphemy!

    You’ve been tagged sucka!

You have nothing at stake here. Why not insult me?

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