Dear Diary: This is all too much for me. I needed badly to see Dr.Rink yesterday, but Valerie Jarrett tried registering me for ObamaCare but all the websites were down. Then came the invasion of the Mall by hordes of WW2 vets who had the temerity to want to see the WW2 memorial. I mean they were in the goddam war, right? What do they need to see a memorial for? I quickly nipped that in the bud by sending out barriers and guards to neutralise the old buffers before they brought anarchy to our streets.
With Dr. Rink refusing to see me without my being a registered Obamacare patient, I was forced to self-medicate with a joint of Maui Wowie from my stash in the secret compartment of the Resolute Desk. I took a Frisbee and the two dogs out to the South Lawn, and pretended to throw the Frisbee in between drawing in lungsful of Hawaii's finest weed. I relaxed as I felt the weed hit my brain. I rehearsed some sparkling repartee to use on Pootin, when that inevitable, gloating call comes from Moscow at breakfast-time. Where was I? Oh yes, breakfast. But enough about me.
