My dear Mama-san and I were talkin’ politics last night and she was getting really worked up by all the wrong ‘changes’ being made by President Obama. Beside thinking he’s ruining the country with his power-trip, disrespect shown to foreign leaders, lack of decorum, unpresidential stance and demeanor, poor judgment in all he does, thinks, and enacts (whew, coming up for air), she thinks she’s not alone in her suffering from Obama-fatigue. S he’s sick of turning on her TV only to see Prez-O across the networks popping up everywhere like a Whack-a-Mole, as she frantically searches for Obama-free viewing. She says we are saddled with a president who doesn’t know jack-sh*t about being president, excels, enjoys, and is addicted with watching himself in mirrors and lecturing on TV. That Prez-O likes the sound of his own voice too much. She called him a narcosist. I think she meant ‘narcissist’ but maybe she’s seen the photo of him smoking a dobie – or she might have meant to say, ‘Marxist’. My mother totally, with an arm behind her back, slays the English language.
Wrapping up her Obama rant, she floored me when she said sharply, “I wish he’d get on a broom and fly away!!” Not expecting such, I laughed, taking the bait, asked, “where do you want him to fly away to?” “To the moon, Alice!!” “Good plan, Ma! If his broom-landing breaks his stick he won’t be able to get back because he cut funding for space programs!!”