Come… come on Barack, please don’t be that way. And don’t act so surprised, I mean you must have at least seen some of the approval rating signs. Tea Party? No, Tea Party didn’t put me up to this. Yeah, sure I’ve see him around the neighborhood. I mean, what am I supposed to do while you’re off vacationing with your friends? Sit around this place without a job and watch MSNBC? No, it’s platonic. So far. And for your information, Tea isn’t the retarded Nazi racist loser your friends are always painting him to be. And guess what? He listens to me and seems to like me for what I am, and doesn’t expect me to wear that stupid complicated Scandinavian nurse outfit like you gave me for Christmas. By the way, the charge card bill from Frederick’s of Stockholm just arrived yesterday. $1 trillion, Barack? Really?

Look, let’s be civil adults and not let this descend into yelling. It’s really not you, it’s me. We both know you deserve a better democracy than me. I mean, let’s face it – you’re cool and urbane and Euro and sexy; I’m frumpy and overweight and not that bright. You’ve said so plenty of times yourself. And you’re probably right that I’ll never quite understand you. But I think I know you well enough now to understand you’d be happier with a different country to govern.