Plummeting in the polls and on the precipice of losing the battle for health care reform, Barry has suspiciously been missing from the Oval Office for hours at a time. Famous for retreating to the Southern Portico for a nicotine fix, the President couldn’t even be found under what he has renamed the Tobacco Road arches.
The mystery was recently solved when muffled music could be heard coming from the White House garage. Secret Service surrounded the structure and stormed the building happening upon a surprised and embarrassed Barack Obama. Seems as though the President had been hiding in a man cave dressed in a snappy aquamarine velvet suit, a ruffled tuxedo shirt and shiny-white Vic Damone shoes practicing songs and dance steps by Motown kings like the Four Tops, Marvin Gaye and of course, the Temptations.
Depressed and unable to cope with rejection, America would be shocked to find out that when Barack Obama feels faklempt he works through nervousness and anxiety by revisiting familiar Motown tunes.
After the President’s peculiar Motown predilection was exposed and hoping to spare the leader of the free world humiliation, shocked Secret Service personnel reacted to the discovery by spontaneously breaking into applause, which over the last year has proven to consistently soothe a savage Barry.
After a final French inhale, crushing a Marlboro on the oily garage floor a revitalized “Renegade” asked the men in navy blue if they wanted to be the first to see what he planned for the next press conference to convey to the American public innermost feelings billions of spoken words failed to express?
Stumbling around for a response, awkwardly looking at each other and uncomfortably chuckling, the stunned security detail took off dark sunglasses, removed communication earpieces, loosened dark ties and said, “Sure Renegade. Let it rip.”
Excited to share innovative ways to communicate with the nation, teary eyed Obama first expressed confusion over the nation’s flailing opinion of him. Then, the President solicited affirmation shyly asking, “You guys love me, dontcha ?”
After a round of Kleenex and a long lingering group hug, uplifted the President disappeared behind a makeshift stage curtain. Changing into a tuxedo jacket Barry, who can’t quite figure out what has changed over the last year accompanied on the bongos by Eric Holder, emerged singing an apropos “What’s Going On?”
Taking a bow even the Prince of Motown Marvin Gaye would be proud of, Obama moved on to a special sympathy inducing performance choreographed specifically to “beg” wavering Democrats to vote for health care reform. Exhibiting vulnerability Obama admitted he’s a desperate man who “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg.” Leaving no time for a response, the President emerged in a gold outfit in memoriam of the late David Ruffin complete with over-sized, gold-tinted aviator glasses breaking right into…
Obama skilled at left hand clap and fancy left dance spins prepared to segway into the next number. Stopping only to share with befuddled observers a song he felt fully embodied the sustained downward spiral the presidency has experienced since Election Day. Bearing a striking resemblance to Soul King, Jimmy Ruffin and being a recipient of “love that has now departed,” Barry asked the poignant political question, “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted?”
Turning and whispering loudly behind the curtain, followed by the sound of shattered glass after which Obama said, “All right…all right calm down!” Smiling a discomfited half smile and turning again to face his audience Barry rolled his eyes, regained composure and introduced a very tall woman claiming to represent Obama supporters donned in a Mary Wells pageboy wig. The woman pledged loudly that at all costs she’d remain true to the man she affectionately referred to as “My Guy.”
Vowing disagreement will no longer be tolerated, Obama shared a Nancy Pelosi inspired proposal for an officially mandated national response to everything he says henceforth, called the Barry Bravo. Calling up four reluctant Secret Service men, Obama did a run through of the “The Clapping Song.” To set the tone, Obama insisted, whether in agreement or not, everyone enthusiastically clap along.
After retiring striped T-shirts and clam diggers the security detail backed slowly toward the door, put on sunglasses, adjusted earpieces, tightened ties and left behind Peaches and Herb under a disco ball “Shaking Their Groove Thing” — fully assured the Motown connoisseur, still crooning away in the garage, was not the one in need of protection.
This is fictional parody.