Let Me Be Your Ocean

We’ve already seen this movie. It starts with an epithet, in the middle there’s an apology pie and it ends with a food fight.

Maybe I missed the meeting of all people in the whole world in which the news spread that it was hunky dory to close talk at the only person on the entire planet whose body may be more closely guarded than the pope’s. Well, if that’s the case, I’d like to apply for an interview in which Mr. Obama and I have a knee to knee chat about how Tim Geithner and Larry Summers are not actually his friends and Austen Goolsby, while often hilarious, does and says some very unfunny things. This would be an excellent use of my truth-telling powers. Also: Mr. Obama and I are nearly the same age, so we could chitchat about how super-cool and regrettable are those fading pictures of us as awkward teens at Bicentennial celebrations on opposite ends of our country.

Governor Brewer wanted the president to go places and do stuff with her, but she already told her friends he’s not her secret boyfriend, no backsies. Then there was this tete-a-tete, during which he walked away, leaving her without a prom date. I’m not a fan of either one of them, but when the music starts, none of the popular boys will ask her to dance.

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