My Boyfriend Barry

I love Barack Obama.  I loved him back two summers ago when you (you know who you are, breakfast pals) were all so sure he was fucking up and was going to lose the election, because he wouldn’t “fight fire with fire,” wouldn’t call names or even seem to worry about the names he was being called.  But he was right.  You naysayed health care, said over and over it was doomed (and you said this in the past tense, as if it was all over), and then it passed.  You’re doing the same thing with banking, and the oil spill, and November.  Why isn’t he angrier?  Doesn’t he know there are midterms coming up?  BP must be dragged through the streets so we can spit on it.  As a famous poster, which Darren has above his desk at home, says, “Calm the fuck down.  I got this.”  My boyfriend can beat up all the other boyfriends.  Just let him do his job.

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About hipstersmother

Writer, Teacher, Observer, Amateur Therapist, Killer of All Things Grown in Pots, Living Room Comedian
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