Obama War Room: Michelle Ma Bellicose

 Originally appeared as "Obama War Room: Michelle Ma Belle" on Breitbart's biggovernnment.com, June 10, 2011

[White House exercise facility]

MICHELLE: Well, come in, people. Lew, Carney, get over here and spot for me while I press 250. Everybody else, pull up a mat and sit so we can start.

JOE BIDEN: Huh? Why’s the Boss in the corner in his PJs staring out the window?

MICHELLE: He’s stressed out. I’m running things until his therapist clears him to continue denying there are scandals. Anybody got a problem with that?

DAN PFEIFFER: No Ma’am, but what set him off?

MICHELLE: Yesterday, he had to lay up on the first par 5 at Burning Tree and couldn’t choose between a 6-iron and 7-iron. Told his playing partners he wanted to sleep on it. At dinner, a steward asked what flavor parfait he preferred for dessert. He never decided. Midnight, he was still muttering, “I like the strawberry, but the peach appeals to me, too.”

VALERIE JARRETT: Deteriorating decision-making skills. It started right after he took office in 2008 and has gotten progressively worse. I mean, the CIA knew where bin Laden was hiding since mid-2009. He couldn’t pull the trigger. I had to use his autopen to sign the order authorizing the SEALs’ raid on Osama’s compound.

MICHELLE: Hmmph. He didn’t have a problem deciding on those chili dogs for lunch in public yesterday and stepping on my daily nutrition bulletin in the process.

Well, to business. Nancy, some of your members defected to the enemy on guns, taxes, Benghazi, and the IRS and NSA. I’m not happy.

NANCY PELOSI: Noted. Leadership’s scheduled a confab tonight with the recalcitrants in Rayburn B113.

PFEIFFER: But that’s the carpenters’ workshop in the sub-basement.

PELOSI: Correct. SEIU enforcers will restrain these people while I clip off their pinkies. A Smithsonian preservationist agreed to shrink the fingers and create a digital necklace for me to wear when I’m lobbying my caucus. I’ll tell them, “These little pinkies voted ‘nay.’”

By the way, I asked Anthony Weiner to come, too.

MICHELLE: Weiner? Why? He’s been out of office since . . .

PELOSI: Anthony embarrassed the party and got off easy by resigning. I’ve waited long enough for my pound of flesh.

MICHELLE: Pound?

PELOSI: Figure of speech. Anyway, call it an extreme circumcision. I’ll display the appendage in a jar of formaldehyde on my desk with a label reading, “Gentlemen, this is what happens when you think with your . . .”

MICHELLE:  I get it. Hey, you’re leaving?

PELOSI: Call me if Waterwalker over there gets back on his game. [exits]

JARRETT: Typical jab. She doesn’t fear the President. Nobody fears him.

MICHELLE: Well, I’m not Barack. Kathleen, order the FDA to ban Botox for women over 70 because of a possible link to the development of megalomania.

KATHLEEN SEBELIUS: Good idea. Means less face time for her with the media.

MICHELLE: Let’s move on. Harry, what’s your plan to marginalize and frustrate Senate Republicans?

HARRY REID: Senate Democrats will vote to designate the late Robert Byrd as the Senate’s first posthumous Emeritus Senator, with limited floor rights. Disney’s Imagineers just delivered a Byrd automaton for use in the Senate chamber. It’s programmed to say, “Those amendments are out of order,” and, “The rules permit reconciliation,” and, “The Founders would be livid at Republican tactics.”

PELOSI: You know, we’d get a lot more done with a Stepford president.

PFEIFFER: Some bad news: Senator Joe Manchin [D-WV] is threatening to change parties.

MICHELLE: Debbie, assign a DNC covert operator to break into his condo this weekend and leave an ear of corn under his pillow, shucked. And a note: “Stay in our crib—or else.”

DEBBIE WHASSUPMAN SHULTZ: An off ear he can’t refuse.

MICHELLE: Jack, where’s your report on bringing the world together through American largesse.

JACK LEW: Ma’am. I’m calling the proposal, “Tax Americana.” Ten trillion distributed abroad over the next five years. Half raised from new taxes and raids on pension funds, the other half from my printing presses. The world will love us.

BIDEN: Maybe. Right now, though, we better start showing the world some moxie. Iran just laughed off our warning not to do it again after they sank our carrier in the Persian Gulf.

MICHELLE: True. John, inform Putin the President will be displeased if Russia invades Poland. Carney, at today’s briefing, demand Assad return murdered Syrian dissidents’ bodies to their families. Lew, straight talk to China: they buy more Treasuries or we’ll print so much currency, the T-bills they now own will become worthless. Unfortunately, we still need their financing to become insolvent.

BIDEN: Looks like Palin’s getting set to run against the Boss next year, Ma’am. We gotta blunt her impact without turnin’ women off.

MICHELLE: Covered. I’ll be on the ticket with Barack. Joe, we’re moving you over to Veterans’ Affairs. Also . . .

[enter Attorney General]

ERIC HOLDER: Sorry to interrupt, Ma’am. Just got a text from Brennan at CIA. Says an anonymous caller claimed a Somali, Nadif Osman, will bring down International Airways Flight 227 tomorrow evening as it approaches New York. He’ll board in Hamburg wearing C4 plastique shoelaces and detonate in seat F124. A man named Osman is booked on the flight, but he’s not on our watchlists.

MICHELLE: Hmm. Anonymous caller. No red flags. That puts the “threat” at the low end of the probable cause threshold, Eric. Without correlating the name to your predicate, we can do nothing. So, we give this guy the benefit of the doubt.

HOLDER: Of course, Ma’am. But on the off chance he does try something and passengers attack and thwart him, ACLU attorneys will be on the tarmac to advise Mr. Osman of his rights the moment he disembarks.

[in the corner, Obama’s BlackBerry rings. He answers.]

MICHELLE: Barack, I thought I confiscated all your toys. Who is that?

OBAMA: Chris Matthews, dear. He wants to know what I’m wearing. 

Biden War Room: Nanny State

JILL BIDEN:  Joe, wake up.  Jake Tapper’s here.  His crew is in the basement setting up.

BIDEN:  Tapper?  The song and dance man?  We having some live entertainment?
 
JILL BIDEN:  [patiently]  You’re doing a live five-minute tape-delayed interview with CNN.  Makeup!  I want him looking rosy-cheeked and vital.  [exit Biden] Doctor?
 
PHYSICIAN: As discussed, I’ll inject a fast-acting high alert medication to keep him awake. 
 
STAFFER: Our backup’s set, Ma’am.  His chair’s wired.  Press the remote button once for a mild wake-up shock, twice to keep him focused and alert.
 
JILL BIDEN:  I’m still nervous.  Suppose he panics and walks out mid-interview, even though we’ve had the questions and practiced the answers for days? 
 
STAFFER:  Um, we thought it prudent to have an emergency option available, Ma’am, and we wanted to surprise you.  Millie, bring him in.

[enter staffer with Joe Biden]
 
JILL BIDEN:  Joe, what are you . . . Oh my God!
 
STAFFER:  Yes, Ma’am, it’s the vp’s double.  We had the Mission Impossible special effects team create a Biden face mask.
 
JILL BIDEN:  But, but, how can . . . ?
 
STAFFER:  Jim’s an impressionist.  We’ve been coaching him.  He has the vp’s voice and mannerisms down cold.  Jim, say something Bidenesque.
 
DOUBLE: When the pirates took our ship back in 2009, I says to the president, “Lemme fly out there, Boss, settle this thing.  I grew up with workin’-class stiffs tryin’ to make an easy buck any way they could.  I’ll get down and dirty if I hafta. and I’ll get her done.”  The Big O says, “Do it, Joe.”
 
JILL BIDEN:  Incredible.  Jim, how would you respond to a softball on Tara Reade?
 
DOUBLE:  Every woman has a right to have her claims questioned and dismissed. 

JILL BIDEN:  Charlie!  Put the vice president in the study and let him watch Chitty Chitty Bang Bang again.  [to double] You, sir, have a long-running gig if you want it.

Obama War Room: Village Ijit

OBAMA: So I told them, “Zero Dark Thirty" is a farce; they made me a footnote.  So the big guys agreed to do a remake.  Lucas will produce and Spielberg will direct "Barack CoJones and the Devil’s Lair," with Denzel Washington playing me and Cat Stevens as Osama.

Hagel, order SEAL Team Six released from their official duties during production to play themselves. 

KATHLEEN SEBELIUS: I’ll announce healthcare waivers for Paramount, Lucasfilm Ltd., and Amblin Entertainment tomorrow morning, Mr. President.

DAN PFEIFFER: We should beef up your macho bona fides in the short term, sir, to keep Republicans intimidated.

VALERIE JARRETT: Tie it into family values, sir. Visit your destitute brother in Africa and give him a few bucks. Then go into the bush without the Secret Service and kill a lion with a spear. Gutsier than Palin shooting a moose with a 30-06 at two hundred yards.

OBAMA: I’ll do that once I force Netanyahu to risk national suicide for a shot at peace.

JARRETT: The vice president arrived, sir—I think.

[enter Biden wearing surgical gloves, mask, and scrubs]

OBAMA: What’s with the getup, Joe? You look like you’re attending an autopsy.

BIDEN: This outfit? My driver sneezed on the way over; and I saw a gate guard wipin’ his nose. Maybe some contagion’s goin’ down. So I went right to Medical and got protection. We might hafta quarantine Washington, like FDR did in ’55.

OBAMA: I’ll, uh, think about it.

Joe, you’re heading my Select Commission on “Kicking the Can down the Road on Iran.” Where are they at right now?

BIDEN: [checks wall map] Same place as yesterday.

OBAMA: The bomb, Joe.

BIDEN: We estimate they’ll have two Hiroshima-level nukes by Labor Day.  Our forces in the region remain on alert and are prepared take out Israel’s air force if an attack on Iran appears imminent.

JARRETT: That would certainly give the lie to wingnuts who say you don’t have the guts for preemptive action, sir.

BIDEN: Hey, I gotta tinkle, Big Guy. Gimme a minute. [leaves]

PFEIFFER: Sir, now’s the time.

OBAMA: I know, I know. This better work, Dan. Man’s driving me crazy: calling every five minutes, waylaying me after meetings. This morning, I caught him in the Oval Office addressing the nation.

[Biden returns]

OBAMA: Joe, a special assignment for you.

BIDEN: Whassup, Boss? Wahmeeta go to Russia, straighten Putin out? Or plug my tripartite plan for D.C. to the Post? How ‘bout a budget debate with Ryan Paul on "Meet the Press"? Just say the word.

OBAMA: None of those, Joe. Actually, I’m appointing you roving ambassador to Smalltown, USA. You’ll be my, uh, what’s that title I’m giving him, Dan?

PFEIFFER: Ijit, sir. Rhymes with widget.

BIDEN: Ijit?

OBAMA: It’s a Native American honorific, Joe—Ojibwa, I think. Means, ‘’simple, plain-spoken man.” You’ll start in Oregon and work east through election night 2014, visiting every hamlet and telling folks my plans for the country. Joe, historians will acclaim you the Obama Administration’s Village Ijit.

BIDEN: I’m on it, Chief. I’ll leave tomorrow, report in daily.

OBAMA: Godspeed, Joe. Watch your topknot out there.

Ah, he’s gone. Val, tell the switchboard to shunt his calls to State. What’s my schedule today?

JARRETT: You’re meeting a delegation of Comanches at ten, sir. You’ll present a federal eminent domain order giving back the tribe’s ancestral West Texas homeland--Governor Perry’s turf, incidentally. Afterwards you leave for an aerial survey of damage to golf courses in the storm-ravaged South.

PFEIFFER: Regarding your approval ratings among Hispanics, Majestad: they’re looking at Rubio and Cruz and slipping away from our hacienda. Could be trouble for you in ’16.

OBAMA: Time to crank up the rumor mill. Jay, ask Maddow to find a genealogist who’ll swear the Rubio family’s roots are Italian, not Cuban. Tell our National Council of La Raza and Reconquista contacts to push the meme. As for Cruz, let’s muddy his heritage waters: release a blizzard of press releases spelling his name C-r-u-i-s-e.

JAY CARNEY: Si, Padrone. I’ll alert the Times and the alphabets what we’re about.

PFEIFFER: Presidente, Hispanics will flock to your banner if we expel gringos from Arizona and California and cede the states to Mexico. Quid pro quo: Mexico allows Norte Americanos reeling from the Obama economy to cross the border in search of work.

JARRETT: Naming that refitted navy minesweeper after Cesar Chavez didn’t have much impact on Hispanics, Caudillo.

OBAMA: Get the Vatican on the horn. I’ll put Chavez in for sainthood and tell Pope Francis I want it fast-tracked.

PFEIFFER: Sir, Christie appears to be getting ready to take you on next go-round. We should knock him down a peg.

JAY CARNEY: I’ll commission a poll with this question: “Does Governor Christie’s inability to control his weight make it more likely or less likely you’ll vote for him?”

PFEIFFER: Sir, Barney Frank and his sister, Ann Lewis, are here to advise you on the housing crisis.

OBAMA: Right. Headsets on, everyone. Ms. Lewis will provide simultaneous translation.

FRANK/LEWIS: Good news, sir: foreclosures are increasing. Bad news: not fast enough. Unless we act now, no catastrophic economic event to rally the nation around you and the Party occurs before November 2014.

OBAMA: Damn! Can we accelerate the timetable for fiscal Armageddon?

FRANK/LEWIS: One possibility, sir: mandating home ownership by every citizen over 21.

OBAMA: Okay. Jack, tell banks to start lending again as if their charters depended on it. Dan, advise Fannie and Freddie to open the spigots wide, and stonewall the Inquisitors on the House Financial Services Committee.

LEW: Sir, HUD will need your Civilian National Security Force to evict non-compliants from their apartments and cardboard boxes and force them into homes.

OBAMA: Not enough units are ready. Is Blackwater still hiring out mercenaries?

[enter Michelle]

Oh, Jay, Michelle has something to say to you. She speaks for me.

MICHELLE: You’re not working out, Carney. So, back to Biden you go. Word is he’s leaving tomorrow on a long trip. Better get home and pack.

OBAMA: Chris Matthews, aka Tweety, will be my new Press Secretary, everyone.

MICHELLE: I still don’t like the way he looks at you. Keep the door open when you’re alone in a room with him. You hear me, Barack?

Hillary War Room: Resistance Is Futile

BILL: Ya gotta move now, darlin.’  We can’t count on a brokered convention anymore.  Biden’s toast, Bernie’s ticker is tuckered, and the rest are midgets.  Warren’s unstoppable--unless you act.

HILLARY: I don’t…cough-cough-cough-cough-wheeze-cough-cough-cough- cough cough . . . .

PAUL BEGALA: He’s right, my queen.  Declare your candidacy tomorrow.  I’ll instruct our media familiars to gush in approbation as they cover it live, with a five-minute tape delay to edit out stumbles, falls, respiratory episodes, brain freezes, and bathroom emergencies.

BILL: Good thinkin.’ Let’s put her whole campaign on a five-minute delay.

HILLARY: Shuddup, Bill.  Damn!  I’d hoped to avoid retail politics in Podunk coffee shops.  Maybe Lizzie will bow out once I throw my pantsuit in the ring, and I can skate to the nomination.

What, Serpenthead?

JAMES CARVILLE:  That dog won’t hunt, Missus.  She ain’t stayin’ on the leash.  She got the scent and she’ll run it down and get her teeth into the mudbugs in the gumbo pot before the moon rises over the bayou.

HILLARY: So, how do I supplant the Wicked Witch of the East and become inevitable within days after I announce my candidacy?

BEGALA: First thing, Sensei, make a short, powerful statement that you’re running for reelection against the usurper, Trump, and everything you do as president will be For … the …Children.  We can flesh it out in the fall, or not.

BILL. To lock you in, Honeybun, we saturate the airwaves and social media with the ad you wouldn’t let us use in 2016 against Trump.  Remember?  Your takeoff of Peggy Lee’s “I’m a Woman.” *

HILLARY: Only did it because Streisand persuaded me.  I thought it made me look tawdry, and why risk it because I was supposed to win big anyway.  

DAVID BROCK: Different times, Excellency.  It shows a side of you nobody ever sees, including us.

BILL: I just previewed the spot, Sugarlips .  It’s perfect!  Blows away your robotic persona by taking a page from Trump’s book. The rubes will see an in-your-face Hillary who’s PC-free, bold, brassy--and even a little sexy. And we did finally get a take without a coughing jag.

HILLARY: All right. Show me.  Better be the one I appear mostly from the waist up.

BILL: Run it, Paul.

I'm a Clinton

[On the monitor Hillary stands next to a piano chatting with John Legend at the keyboard.  She is rouged, red-lipped, and wearing a white pantsuit ensemble with three inch black pumps.  She turns and puts her hands on her hips. When the intro begins, she smiles suggestively and starts tapping her foot. The camera zooms in.]

I can BleachBit my e mails and laptops then flip a bird at the FBI
I can rake in cash as I please through my Foundation until the day I die
I can order the nets to sow talkin’ points like seeds across the land
Take a month off the trail, schmooze the rich in the Hamptons, return when I’m flush to beat the band
‘Cause I’m a Clinton! C-L-I-N-T-O-N, I’ll say it again

I can spew out a dozen lies and make you think they’re all true
Cuss an agent, rank my staff, and beat on Bill so he’s black and blue
Party with Cher on Saturday night, head home and drink til 3:00 a. m., and then
Get up at 10:00, eat steak and grits, go to church and screech “Amen!”
‘Cause I’m a Clinton! C-L-I-N-T-O-N, hear me say it again

If you come to me beggin’ you know I’m gonna make you pay
If you come to me with bad news you know I’m gonna ruin your day
If it’s pity you’re wantin’, I’ll slap you and shame you, you snivelin’ twit
‘Cause I’m a Clinton! C-L-I-N-T-O-N, hear me say it again

I can break every rule in the book from now to End of Times!
I can laugh at Congress skirt the law commit a host of crimes
I got a history of payback that proves there’s nobody I can’t screw
I can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear but I can make dupes outta you
'Cause I'm a Clinton! C-L-I-N-T-O-N, hear me say it again
'Cause I'm a Clinton! C-L-I-N-T-O-N, and that says it all

HILLARY: I like it. Where’s Huma?

BILL: Off pouting somewhere. She wanted to include a verse extolling female genital mutilation and subjugation to Sharia, but we thought those issues could wait until after you’re elected.

BEGALA: Reverend Sharpton on line 1, your Eminence.

HILLARY: What’s up. Al?  I don’t care what Jackson told you. You will be my Secretary of Reparations.  Yes, a Cabinet position.  Contingent, as we agreed, on your guarantee of 70% turnout and 95% support in designated black communities.  Well, better get busy. [hangs up]
Ah, Huma.  Where have you been?

HUMA ABEDIN: Arranging for Anthony to be kidnapped and taken to Saudi Arabia to be stoned to death for unspeakable acts, my Liege.

HILLARY: Probably best, my dear.

BROCK: The Post is reporting we have a good chance at picking up the Senate and keeping the House, your Grace.

HILLARY: From your lips to g-d’s ears, if he exists.  Absent congressional obstructionism, I can do a better job of chipping away at the Bill of Rights.

BILL: Sweetheart, we’re seeing some softening in a vital demographic: one-issue abortion righters.

HILLARY: Troubling.  I’ll issue a statement next week supporting abortion up to six months after birth if the woman complains of sleep deprivation.

BROCK: We’ll have expired Democrats voting in sufficient numbers to put you over the top in Pennsylvania and Ohio, your Worthiness.  By a simple stretch of the imagination, they’ll qualify as absentee voters.

HILLARY: No argument there.  Let’s do more outreach to the disembodied. Huma, channel Betty Friedan.  Ask her to found the League of Dead Women Voters.  Brock, order up ten million Johnnie Cochranized bumper stickers: “If you’ve gone and died, don’t be denied.’’ Bill, use your mojo and book a rally at St. Patrick’s Cathedral on All Souls’ Day.

BILL: Precious, I don’t think . . . .

HILLARY: Shuddup, Bill.  I don’t care what you think.  Do what you’re told or I won’t let you vet the interns.

This is an adaptation of an earlier piece.

I’m a Woman

Original lyrics by Jerry Leiber, Mike Stoller