No matter what one’s politics may be (Democrat, Republican, Liberal, Conservative, anti-midget, pro-midget) it is generally conceded by all intelligent people that Barack Obama, the 44th President of the United States, is one of the greatest, if not the greatest, intellect in the world.

Recently I was contacted by the Secret Service who informed me that President Obama was a regular reader of my blog and wanted to meet with me.  Naturally I jumped at the opportunity.  I was ushered into the Oval Office where the President was lying on a couch.

Secret Service:  Mr. President, Manhattan Infidel is here to see you.

President Obama:  Send him in.  And take these grapes away.  They bore me.  I disdain them.

The Secret Service agent in question gathered President Obama’s grapes and left us alone.

Manhattan Infidel:  Thank you for meeting with me Mr. President.

President Obama:  Manhattan Infidel, I read your blog every day.  Even though it, and by extension you, are small, paltry and beneath me, I do find your silly ramblings occasionally amusing.  It comforts me.

Manhattan Infidel:  Thank you Mr. President.  I think.  Anyway I’d like to ask you about a story in Gawker.com  that states that you are bored by your job and that in fact you might be clinically depressed.

President Obama:  It is beneath me, John

Manhattan Infidel:  My name’s not John.

President Obama:  The fact-truth of your name is irrelevant.  Yes, I do find this job boring.  A man like me, with my intellect doing things like attending meetings, solving problems? These are beneath me.  I should be in my study reading a book and not concerned with these trifling concerns.  Do you speak Latin, Larry?

Manhattan Infidel:  My name’s not Larry.  No I don’t speak Latin.  Do you Mr. President?

President Obama:  If Latin is on the teleprompter I read it.  But the point is I should know Latin.  All great intellects do.  But I don’t have the time to study because people expect me to solve things like unemployment and debt.  These issues are pedestrian.

Manhattan Infidel:  I guess that’s one way of looking at it. But still, you are the President.  It’s your job to do these things.

President Obama:  Job?  Job?  Jobs are beneath me.  I thought this was an honorary position and that I could spend all day reading, daydreaming, eating grapes and accepting visitors.

Manhattan Infidel:  No, that’s the Vice President’s job.

President Obama: Let me ask you this Blofeld – 

Manhattan Infidel:  My name’s not Blofeld.

President Obama:  Do many midgets read your blog?

Manhattan Infidel:  I….I don’t know.  There’s no way of checking the logs for midget activity.

President Obama:  I like midgets.  They bring comfort to me.

Manhattan Infidel:  Mr. President If I may, can I ask you about your jobs bill?

President Obama:  Silence Hugo Drax!

Manhattan Infidel:  My name’s not Hugo Drax.

President Obama:  Begone!  You prattle annoys me.

And so I left the Oval Office and our troubled President.  As I was leaving two midgets were being ushered into the office and we spoke briefly.

First midget: What kind of mood is he in?

Manhattan Infidel:  He’s bored.

First midget:  Ah great. 

Second midget:  Okay I’ll ride the tricycle but he better not ask us to kiss each other again!

I ask all my readers to pray for President Obama.  May his intellect find challenges to sustain him.  And if any midgets are reading my blog, please contact me.

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