Posted on 05/21/2009 5:22:37 PM PDT by bloodmeridian
In the Oval Office, President b. Hussein leans back in his chair, characteristically propping his feet on the great English Resolute desk used by all but three presidents dating back to 1880, his eyes leveled at the pages of Open Veins of Latin America: Five Centuries of the Pillage of a Continent, the book, a present from Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez, in his left hand. A Marlboro dangles from his lips, despite White House rules against indoor smoking. He plucks the butt from his mouth with his other hand and flicks the ashes, sprinkling a few on the heirloom desktop as they tumble toward a chrome ashtray. The president frowns, brushing the ashes to the carpet with indifference, as if they were a petition from Republicans to reach across the aisle to keep the American taxpayer from having to fork over more of their earnings for social programs.
A knock sounds at the door.
“Yeah. Comin,” the president barks.
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