I somehow managed to miss President Obama’s media blitz last night. Apparently he was on both 60 Minutes and an Oprah “Christmas at the White House” with the Obamas special (that’s gotta really chap some freeper ass; dreaming of a white Christmas, indeed). From what I’ve read, though, he was wonderful, which is no surprise because he always does a nice job when it comes to speaking and interviewing and stuff. And, by golly, he’s apparently pretty darned miffed at those darn old Wall Street “fat cats,” puttng them on notice that he didn’t run for office to help them out (I guess he felt obliged to make that clear, ‘cuz you’d never know it from what his administration’s done so far). I’m mean, his administration is already employing as many Wall Street insiders as it can, so the rest of ’em are just gonna have to stand up on their own two feet (while trying not to fall off that big pile of taxpayer money they’re sitting on). And it was really, really hard for him to escalate that war in Afghanistan, but, hey by the end of next year, we’re gonna know how things are going, and whether we’ll be there forever, or just for another 25 years or so. All-in-all, he gives himself a solid B+, with the only minor blemishes on his first year being selling out universal heath care on day one, and that whole pesky 10% unemployment thing the Wall Street bailout inexplicably failed to do much about. Hey, Mr. President, c’mon. One thing I learned in those “grade yourself” type classes – always give yourself an ‘A’ no matter what. Hey, if you don’t love yourself, right? This is no time to be humble (save that for when a dozen mistresses come out of the woodwork to detail your philandering ways – oh, and if that actually does happen, you watch out, dude, ‘cuz Michelle aint no prissy little white supermodel, and you’re gonna lose more than your rear window).

Speaking of fooling around on your wife, I have a confession to make. I had sex with Tiger Woods, and am willing to spill all the salacious details for the right price (just a little tease: he’s a bottom). Conversely, I’m also willing to have Tiger pay for my silence. I’m not asking for all that much, really. A million (net), and I’ll keep my mouth shut (which is more than I can say for Tiger – oops, OK, but that’s all you get for free). I considered writing a tell-all book, but that would take a lot of time and effort, and I’m looking to cash in quick here. I need it by Wednesday morning at 9:00. I don’t want publicity – just cash.

Unlike me, though, Joe Lieberman (speaking of bottoms) loves being Mr. Fucking Important, and he’s just lapping up all the publicity from his “just say no” stance on health care reform. Now he’s told Harry Reid he’ll vote to filibuster any bill that includes anything resembling reform. It’s way past time to smack that whiny little ass down, though I don’t see happening. I’d not only strip him of his seniority and chairmanships, I’d move his desk to the third floor mens room, and move his parking spot to Silver Spring, MD. Let him ride the friggin’ Red Line in to DC every day – I’m sure he’d get a yuck out of seeing all the uninsured homeless people along the way.

Oh well, until Tiger drops a couple mill in my PayPal account, I guess I better get to work.