Saturday, August 29, 2009

The Liberal Lyin’

Well, we packed up and left the island last night for the big doings in Boston. Dinner with some swells Friday night, and then on to the big speech today. Well, technically it’s a funeral.

Expect BO’s deeply personal eulogy - that the speech writers worked on right through the night – to be profoundly moving oratory. We desperately need a little boost in the polls. Big Guy will talk about the poor, the oppressed, the forgotten. And he’ll point out how you can only count on big hearted Democrats like him and Ted to tax only the rich in order to take care of them. I’m guessing it’s a good thing they didn’t hold the wake back in Hyannis Port.  The last draft of the speech I saw contained a moving wrap up about granting Ted’s last wish: that the socialized health care bill get passed and named after him. It ended with a gratuitous “Win one for the Skipper!” that the head speech writer threw out, saying any water-related reference was verboten.

I’m not at liberty to divulge what Lady M will be donning for the big send-off tomorrow, although we’ve been styling all day. Let’s just say it will be stunning, but understated. It’s ok to look better than the stiff, but not too much better.

And Big Guy will be wearing his standard bespoke suit, with a little  red, white and blue “Kennedy-Kare” ribbon above his heart.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Message in a Bottle

We have to leave Martha’s Vineyard early for the big dig across the bay. We’re leaving the girls behind, and they get to go to a clambake. Lady M and Big Guy will have to make do with what ever swill they serve them at the Wharf Sea Grille.

I had a good time on our island vacation. I’m really going to miss playing poker with the Secret Service guys at night. Although they were starting to get suspicious about my amazing ability to seemingly know what cards they were holding. (I’ve been around since the early 80’s, and just between you and me, they’re not making these SS guys as sharp as they used to. Even Bush’s SS detail made me throw a black drape over my reflective surfaces before they would even cut the deck.)

We’re all going to tuck in early tonight, as soon as the last of the 1998 Taittinger Comtes de Champagne is gone. Big Guy’s got a big speech tomorrow. We need to get our message out, because the American people aren’t buying the message we put out before Senator Kennedy bit it. Hopefully, this will change everything.

WWJW (What Would Jackie Wear?)

I just knew the death of the ancient mariner was going to screw up our vacation. Now we have to pack up for the big Irish wake in Boston on Saturday, and we haven’t brought a thing to wear. Now that the whole Camelot mantle has been officially passed to us, we’ll probably have to send someone out to buy some new pearls.

I can tell you, we’ve had 5 assistants working the internet since Wednesday trying to figure out WWJW: what would Jackie wear? And still they haven’t come up with anything that can be translated to suit Lady M’s “athletic” figure.  The closest they’ve come is a redo of that get up she wore for her audience with the Pope.


But as you might recall, even her best friends hinted that the assemble might have been a mistake. And BFF from Chicago weighed in with a dismissive, even derisive verdict of it being a little too derivative.

So it’s going to be tense around here today, what with hours of trying things on in front of my sub-optic photon reflectors (to make MO appear appropriately somber without looking downright mean).

And I’m not going to be able to ramble through the estate tonight, projecting weird ghostly images like I’ve been doing to de-stress, because Big Guy’s got a speech to write.

Well, he won’t actually be working on his deeply personal eulogy himself.  We’ve got little people to do that. But believe me, it’s a lot more dangerous to spook the speechwriters who  practically live on coffee and cigarettes.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Summer Replacements and Diversions

Since I’m not technically one of the “girls” that Gibbsy issued the “HANDS OFF! WE’RE ON VACATION” command about, I thought I’d take this opportunity for a little bit of shameless self-promotion.

Some of my new visitors have requested additional information about me and my career in the White House. In the interest of transparency, which we’re all about now, I’ve placed a convenient link for your future use in the right column.

Click on the mirror in my MOTUS BACKGROUND CHECK to learn more about my amazing trans-imaging powers (or at least as much as I’m allowed to divulge).


Click through my family photo album too. Feel free to send me pictures of my many other relatives, who are scattered far and wide (although none as far and wide as my brother Hub).

ME BEING POLISHED-220greybutton copy

I’ve also included a link to my absolutely favorite blog: Dewey From Detroit.  His fashion sense is non-existent, but he’s kind of cute and fun anyway.


More on the Rock later. Just don’t tell Gibbsy.

Pirates Of The Plebeian

Well, here’s what we had for lunch:

the group ordered quite a feast: nine plates of fried shrimp, two plates of calamari, two orders of fried scallops, a plate of clam strips, six medium fries, and two orders of coleslaw.

Look, I know we’re all mopey about the death of the ancient mariner, but eating ourselves to death isn’t going to bring him back. Even a DOD/NASA digital reimaging system has her limits when it comes to hiding those last 40 pounds.

And frankly I’m still getting snippy comments from people about Lady M arriving on the island Sunday wearing her grandma’s tablecloth.


That is a Sophie Theallet design! She’s French you couture challenged plebeians. Tablecloth indeed. That kind of talk just makes me crazy: And when that happens I can’t be held responsible for images that refract from my nano-photon G drives:

 pirate barry

Even if we were having a masquerade ball - which we’re NOT – I think we can all agree that this is definitely not a good look for the Big Guy. You know, that whole Somalia thing.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Turd World

We’ve been trying to get our friends to change the subject from the health care revolt, the economic non-turn-around and the plummeting polls so we can relax and enjoy a little bit of family time here on the Rock. But no, someone always has to spoil it.

Get a load of what this Fouad Ajami is writing about us in the Wall Street Journal today! I’m glad I’m only in charge of fashion spin, because there’s no way to polish up this turd:

American democracy has never been democracy by plebiscite, a process by which a leader is anointed, then the populace steps out of the way, and the anointed one puts his political program in place. In the American tradition, the "mandate of heaven" is gained and lost every day and people talk back to their leaders. They are not held in thrall by them. The leaders are not infallible or a breed apart. That way is the Third World way, the way it plays out in Arab and Latin American politics.

Unfortunately BO and MO are both sensitive about that “third world” reference for any number of reasons. So now we have to pack up all of Lady M’s shoes and ship them back to the house in Chicago – you know, the one next to the vacant lot that we’re not allowed to talk about - until this whole thing blows over. I tried to explain to them that the Philippines are not considered a third world country, but they felt it was too close for comfort. No great loss, most of her shoes don’t fit any way.

We’ve also got the CIA investigating  Mr. “Fouad Ajami’s” citizenship status, but so far no word back.

Man, what a buzz kill. I’m afraid there’s not enough Wagyu beef, steamed lobster, beluga caviar and Dom Perignon in the world to lift the funk around here. (And that means I’ll be working overtime for the next month.)

All I know for sure is that “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina”  has been pulled from the Tango night mix.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

If The Shoe Fits (or not)

Sheeze! Can you believe all the hoo-ha over Lady M’s tootsies? Haven’t I got enough to worry about from the ankles up – and please, no canckle jokes from you little zumba Everyready bunnies.

I would think the MSM would be following the escapades of Rahm, the only toes in this administration that count. He’s down in Florida this week trying to stem the tide of the AARP revolt. That’s not going so well either, since they’re not apparently quite as acquiescent as old Twinkle Toe’s used to. He’s more of the “convincing through coercion school”. Like the SEIU.

six toes

 six toe sandels







But fine, if the shoe fits, and all that. Those damn sandals in both photos are the Ferragamos that MO picked up on our Roman shopping spree. As you may recall, I tried to deal with the issue at the time. But no, we still came home with the wrong size.

So lighten up out there. It’s summer. I’m supposed to be on vacation too,and frankly, keeping the image refracting going full time on the halter tops and shorts is a stretch (no pun intended).

I’m only going to say this once: Lady M has 5 toes on each foot. I don’t have enough diodes to make those size 13 EEEE’s squeezed into a size 8 AA look anything like normal. Deal with it.


Monday, August 24, 2009

Black Dog Down

Well, Lady M decided to do a little shopping today on our “tony island retreat”. Things were going pretty well. No one asked FLOTUS what size she needed or anything.

We were strolling down South Summer Avenue when the next thing you know, someone behind us is shouting “Hey! Where’s that famous black dog?”

All of a sudden, 20 secret service guys have their Uzis drawn and the locals are diving to the sidewalk like frogs. Thanks goodness I had loaded all of the local fashion stores onto my 2 TB RAID array, and cross linked them with GPS coordinates (sorted by price point, hi to lo end – we’re only here a week).

So, when I heard “Black Dog” and it popped up in the top 5, it triggered an automatic “STAND DOWN” order to the SS agents’ Bluetooth headsets. “It’s just an expensive resort wear boutique!!!”, I radioed.


The SS guys relaxed as the poor shlub, who was just looking for an expensive island logo T-shirt to impress his neighbors, was released from a choke-hold. Lady M, still a little shaken by all the fuss, snarled in my direction, “resort to what, MF?”

I think BFF and I are going to have a little talk tonight. I’m putting in for my own vacation; a trip to the NASA Spa for a wax and polish.

After all, I did prevent a situation that would’ve required the Big Guy to go on television again and explain how the Secret Service agents had acted “stupidly”.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Images of a Pre-Post-Partisan Era

We were really disappointed that the rumor about us going to the big Chelsea wedding over at Ted and Mary’s turned out not to be true.

I was practicing a little on some of the old the trans-images I have stored in my hard drive from those wonderful Clinton years in the White House, and I was going to pull a little trick on Bill and Hill with my time decompressed imaging system:


They both have such a great sense of humor. I was looking forward to making them laugh again, like they used to when they talked about  the “vast rightwing attack machine”; and, later,about the odds of any young upstart beating Hill in the presidential sweeps.

Sometimes I find myself getting a little nostalgic for the good times we had in the ‘90’s. Then I remember all the flying objects in the White House that I had to keep ducking. It was a little nerve racking.

Anyway, I just hope the rumor about Tiger Woods playing golf with the Big Guy is true. I would really love to have him sign my photo album.