This is the president of the united states speaking. I really think this is a good idea. Agree with me. To disagree with an elected leader is to disagree with a song that is stuck in your head or with a game that you do not know the rules of. Maybe you didn’t vote for me, but you share a world with the majority who did, and they agree with me, and I think if you gave me a chance you would actually really like me.
Remember: Everything will be OK.
When I was eight years old, I thought I wasted a day watching ants carry away a potato chip. It was only when I was an adult, shopping for the right kind of marshmallow fluff for my wife, then pregnant with our first child, that I realized it was not a waste. You will be OK. Everyone you love will also be OK. This is not a piece of legislation. This is a fact embedded in a State of Mind, two capital letters nestled side by side in a confident kerning representing the Secret to the Problem. All our disbelief, all our tears of laughter and self-bullying in loneliness. All the paws of the universe. Faith in lieu of reason. The comfort worms find in dirt. You are OK. Everything will be OK.
I am your president. I don’t demand obedience. I am learning to knit. I wish I could grow a mustache. The fluff I picked was a brand called All Organic. It was not the right fluff, OK? She wanted the chemical that leaves a film on the roof of your mouth and spreads easily on untoasted white bread. Whoever you are, whatever decisions you choose to make in life, bounce on a trampoline or swim in an above ground pool, make love to your husband or make love to a horse, you will be OK. This is not spiritual. This is not life after death. There is always wrong. What I’m talking about is experiencing the greatest moment of your entire life and then going home, smiling or crying, crossing the final pavement, and being run down by a fine Italian Sports Car.
Our first child was a daughter named Mo.
Are you afraid of flying?
Don’t like sports?
Hate everyone that is unlike?
Envy everyone that is?
Tired of being, as simply as sleeping through the night, a person?
What’s going on where we’ve never been anyway? Something better than what’s going on here? Something worse? Something naughty? Something we don’t even know about?
If only given a chance to see.
Let’s re-elect.
OK.
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