First he ruins the health care system. Now he wants to come in and wreck the World Series.
Say it ain’t so, B.O.
How can we miss this guy when he won’t go away?
Yesterday, the White House was dithering back and forth over whether to go to Game 6 tonight. They haven’t been this confused since they were trying to decide whether to bomb Syria.
Listen, Mr. President, I understand that sports is one of many subjects you know absolutely nothing about. But trust me on this – tonight is going to be a big night for what the mayor calls “knuckleheads.”
Local knuckleheads. Granted, you have proven beyond a doubt this month with Obamacare that you are by far the biggest knucklehead in the nation, but this is not where you belong tonight.
This should be the night the Red Sox, or the Red Sock, as Mumbles calls them, wrap up what he last week termed the “World Serious Cup.”
Mr. President, you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.
Imagine the posters you’ll see up in the stands tonight if you try to big-foot the celebration:
“Obama Lied, My Health Care Died.”
“You Owe Me $2,500.”
“Ask Me About My Death Panel.”
Why now? This trip has only been on the drawing board for a week or so. The White House had to know there was a better-than-even chance there would be a World Series game here tonight.
Big day for the stores around Faneuil Hall. And now they’re shut down from 11 a.m. til 4 p.m. But who cares about them? They’re in the Dreaded Private Sector.
Then there’s the gridlock in the middle of the afternoon commute (assuming, knock on wood, he leaves before the game). But what does Barack care about the commuters – they work for a living. Not Obama voters, in other words.
This is how curses are born, hosting a guy who turns everything he touches to excrement. And you know damn well Obama would have to drift into the Fox broadcast booth for one of those painful chats like the one in Chicago where he talked about “Kaminsky” (rhymes with Alinsky) “Field” (as opposed to Park).
The announcers asked him who his favorite White Sox player was. He didn’t have a clue, not one. He just tried to change the subject by saying his favorite team was really the Oakland A’s.
When it comes to baseball lore, Barry makes John Kerry look like Bill James.
Listen, Mr. President, I have an idea. If you decide to stick around, why don’t you send the limo over to Southie to pick up Auntie Zeituni while you’re harvesting big bucks at Alan Solomont’s mansion in Weston.
Then the limo can pick you up and drive to Framingham, where you can meet your beloved Uncle Omar and buy a round for the house at the Chicken Bone. It’s Karaoke Night at the Bone!
Just stay out of Fenway Park, or is that Funway Field, Mr. President?