(The following is not substantiated. It is simply the as yet unverified report of Freddy, a fly on the wall in the Oval Office who has not yet been swatted and smushed by Obama. Freddy, fortunately, kept detailed notes on the president’s phone call to Sgt. James Crowley of the Cambridge, MA police force. BHO=Obama, SGT=Crowley.)
BHO: 
SGT: 
BHO: It’s your president, stu . . . umm, Sergeant!
SGT: The PBA president? You don’t sound like him.
BHO: No, no, no, it’s Barack Obama!
SGT: Oh. Who put you through to me and how did you get my number, anyway? It’s unlisted.
BHO: (Laughs) We have our ways, Jim. We have our ways. (Laughs again)
SGT: Whatever. What’s on your mind, Mr. President, why are you calling me?
BHO: Well, to explain things, Jimbo. I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression from what I said the other night . . . I didn’t want you to think I was calling you stupid. . . .
SGT: First, sir, please don’t call me Jimbo. Even my mom doesn’t call me Jimbo. But who then were you calling stupid? The whole Cambridge police force? And in front of a national audience on tv?
BHO: No problemo, Jim, don’t be so hot-headed . . .
SGT: Please call me sergeant, Mr. President. I worked hard to get this rank.
BHO: Umm, yeah, right, Senator Boxer said something like that to a general a while back.
SGT: I wouldn’t know. I don’t follow politics much.
BHO: Okay, I hear ya sergeant. I guess ya didn’t vote for me either? (Laughs)
SGT: Why would you say that, sir?
BHO: Well, as I said, we have our ways . . . of finding out stuff. Gibbsie told me most cops didn’t, that is, except for black cops. And you’re not black, right?
SGT: No sir.
BHO: Well, I guess you didn’t vote for me.
SGT: No comment. But, Mr. President, I’m sure you’re a busy man and I have a tee time in an hour. I hate to rush you . . .
BHO: Gotcha, sergeant, I won’t keep you long but I’m not really very busy.
SGT: Thank you, sir.
(Long pause)
SGT: Sir?
BHO: Yup?
SGT: Why did you call me? I think I heard you loud and clear on national television.
BHO: Well, we can’t always believe what we hear, sarge . . .
SGT: Please call me sergeant.
BHO: Yeah, right . . . Well, I called to set things straight. You do know the Black Congressional Caucus is supporting me and what I said at the health care news conference?
SGT: Yes, and so is Al Sharpton. So?
BHO: Well, I was just trying to show you that things aren’t always so black and white, ya know? I wanna be the president of all the people and I don’t want any hard feelings over all this. You know what I’m saying?
SGT: I do, sir. I’m not that stupid. May I speak frankly?
BHO: Sure, sergeant! I always want transparency and frank talk gets that done.
SGT: Thank you. Well, I just don’t understand you. Leon, that’s Sgt. Leon Lashley, a black guy, by the way, was on the scene when this thing with Professor Gates occurred and he fully corroborates my account of what happened. I just don’t get why you jumped the gun and ripped me and my department when you admitted you didn’t know all the facts and furthermore what you said seemed to have racial overtones since I’m white and the professor is black. It made it seem that it was racial for me to enforce the law . . .
BHO: Whoa! Now you sound like one angry man, sergeant!
SGT: No, I’m not angry. I’m pissed that the president of the United States would go off half-cocked on a local matter you knew nothing about! After all, is that presidential?
BHO: Now, you excuse me, sergeant, please don’t question my presidentiality. Professor Gates is a friend of mine . . .
SGT: Is that even a word, sir?
BHO: What?
SGT: Presidentiality?
BHO: Oh, I dunno. But it is now! (Laughs then another pause)
SGT: Sergeant Lashly is a friend of mine and he backs me up. He was there. You weren’t!
BHO: Now, Sergeant Crowley, you’re being impertinent toward your president! My point was that I know Professor Gates and have known him for a long time and you don’t know him.
SGT: And you, sir, don’t know Sgt. Lashley, or me for that matter. Besides, I do know Gates. I was very up close and personal when he acted as if I was the suspect in a criminal investigation and carried on like he flipped his lid simply because I was doing my job. He ranted, yelled, refused to cooperate and ID himself. Maybe he just acts differently in front of you, you know, in front of his own.
BHO: “In front of his own?”
SGT: Nevermind. I guess we’d better not go there. All I’m saying is that I was acting on a report that two black men were breaking into a residence owned by Harvard and Sgt. Lashley and other cops later witnessed Gates in action, in his abusive tirade. I had no choice but to arrest him for disorderly conduct. He was acting grossly disorderly.
BHO: Well, I have to admit I wasn’t expecting this reaction when I called. I expected some deference, some agreement, some sense of reason so we could reach what I like to call common ground and all I met was resistance. In any event, I’m still offering my hand in friendship. I hope you will join me and Professor Gates in quaffing a beer in the White House.
SGT: Thanks but no thanks, Mr. President. Quaff that brew with the professor and the Reverend Sharpton. You may want to discuss why race relations have gone down the toilet since you adopted your “presidentiality.” I’d rather share a beer with real people, like Sgt. Lashley.
BHO: You’re refusing my invite?
SGT: Stuff your invite until I get an apology, Mr. President!
BHO: (Click, then Obama’s muffled voice saying, “Make sure the IRS audits that prick’s ass into bankruptcy!”)
1 comment:
this is garbage. why even print such rubbish. print facts and honest opinions, not crap like this. come on, aren't you better than this?
Post a Comment