Dear Diary: I had "the conversation" with Kathleen Sibelius early in March, agreeing that she would step down "voluntarily" at the beginning of April [I can't have people remaining in my administration who have tainted my immortal legacy of Obamacare. I am told that something called a "website" that she was ultimately responsible for was not exactly as good as it should have been. The military pick up my medical bills so "websites" are no concern of mine. I have to protect old buddies like Eric H up older from the slings and arrows of outrageous Republicans because he knows where the bodies are buried. But Sibelius is dispensable. Dr Rink has been over to the family apartment for a private consultation after his apparent meltdown over my continued smoking of Blueberry Yum Yum from a stash I keep in a secret drawer in the Resolute Desk which I'm sure must once have have been used to contain Theodore Roosevelt's Big Stick. Dr. Rink maintains that the weed adds to my paranoia. Paranoia? As if. To prove my good cheer, I showed the doctor my new dance move. The Resolute Desk. "Put your left foot foot up. Put your right foot up. To scratch The Resolute you just rub them all about..." But enough about me.
But enough about me.