Interview with Obama continued..
“So tell me, Mister Prezz, did you always want to be president? I mean, since you were a little boy?”
He put his index finger on his forehead and his thumb on his jaw. He was rearranging the answer in his mind.
“Naw, not when I was little. Whatever I said to the other newspaper men, or interviewers has not been the whole truth, since back when I was really young, I never considered being president, I wanted to be someone else, someone closer to home.”
“Like?”
“Like the Lone Ranger.”
“Well I can see that, always wanted to be a cowboy myself.”
“We’re westerners, it’s bred into us. We all want to be cowboys or movie stars. Look at Reagan."
“And it’s not like you didn’t make it as the Lone Ranger. Unknown, untested, dark-horse, dude outa nowhere, becomes president, helps the ordinary and unfortunate, takes the bull by the horns. Rights the wrongs and worries the wicked while riding the north forty of Washington DC. The only thing you’re lacking is the gun, the horse, and the cowboy hat.”
“And Tonto.”
“And Tonto.”
“Michelle is Tonto.”
“Tonto?”
“You know, the character that every viewer forgets, stays on the side lines and all. When they go to the commercial, and in the meantime the Lone Ranger gets caught by the bad guys, that’s Congress, and they’re about to take off his mask and reveal his identity, but then outa nowhere Michelle steps in and saves the day. I get to wear my president mask another episode or two.”
“Prezz, yes, so eloquently put! They say behind every successful man is a woman.”
“Napoleon had Josephine, Caesar had Cleopatra, and so forth.”
“But, Prezz, you know what Tonto means in Spanish, don’t ya?”
“No, I don’t.”
“It means fool.”
He sat up straight. “Really? Then we don’t tell Michelle about the Tonto bit. That part stays classified until hell freezes over. She might get offended.”
“I’m with you on that one, Prezz, my lips are sealed.”
He grew relaxed again and smiled. “There’s one thing I do know for sure. I’m a Tonto for her love.”
“Sure you are, Prezz,” I sputtered, and wiped my mouth on a napkin embroidered with the great seal. “You may be a great politician, but don’t give up your day job to be a stand-up comedian.”
The clock on the mantel struck three and I had only an hour to go. It was time to push the serious button.
“What irritates you most about the presidency?”
“Now that’s gonna take a bit of thought. There’s so many to choose from. Let’s see….” and his face went contemplative for a moment.
A secret service man in an Armani suit went by one of the French windows and never looked in. The clock on the mantel, the one Martha gave George on his birthday, ticked and tocked a few more times. Outside a tourist from Tulsa snapped a picture of the lawn.
“You know what it is? It’s the gap between me and the people I serve. That isn’t the senators and congressmen, the retired generals sitting in the boardrooms of arms manufactures, blowing their noses on hundred dollar bills I worry about. It’s everyday people that have no voice, the vast majority. The press gave them the idea I let them down, because I didn’t bring all the changes they needed.
Here I was, the Lone Ranger, a single rider, a simple hombre trying to turn a stampeding economy away from a cliff. Like I had the power of Super Black Man and an asbestos cape to take the heat from Congress.
That, and the fact the notoriety is driving me crazy, I can’t do anything, my family can’t do anything before it’s “trending”. What tie I wear, what dress Michelle has on, what breed dog we have. Like our personal choices are meant to set fashions. I can never do anything by myself. It’s disgusting.”
“You don’t care for the paparazzi?”
“Don’t tell Mr. and Mrs. America, but I don’t care for pizza either. Tomato sauce gives me heartburn. I mean I can’t take a walk with Secret Service men always at my side. Can’t write a speech without running it past my writing team for ‘political correctness’. Being president has cost me the common touch. And talking about cost reminds me of this financial ‘slump’ as the spin masters like to call it here in D.C. It makes me so depressed it looks like a depression to me.”
“Me too, from what my parents told me.”
“Yeah, it stinks, me, Mister Big Man, Mister In Charge, letting the bad guys win and run the rest of us lemmings over the cliff, and if the CEOs can make a profit doing it, then it’s full speed ahead. I just don’t know how to break through the barriers! I’ve lost my perspective. Sometimes politicians play dirty ball, not all of them, but enough to spoil the game for everybody.
They live in gated communities, on estates, have plenty of money. They lost the touch too. Some of them lost it generations ago. Old money. I mean, if you were the Prezz, what would you do?”
Now, it wasn’t every day the Press was apt to ask me for advice. So I gave it a real hard and serious think.
“Well, I got an idea how you can get back in touch, and it won’t cost you and arm and a leg.”
©Steven Hunley 2013
to be continued as the secret documents are de-classified....