My politically ideological opposites, the Republican Party, is the dominant force in the Legislative branch of the American government, but they always want me to sign bills into law that are in their favor.
Each day, they ask, “President Obama, how long have you been taking our shit today?”
“Too damn long,” I’d reply.
“You’ve been taking our shit that long, and you haven’t signed one of our bills into law?”
To them, laws are like hookers or sandwiches. Or hooker sandwiches. “Laws make us horny,” they say. “Especially when we make you make them. You can’t get hard off the proletariat from working across the aisle.”
One lazy January day about 4 years ago, I finally gave in. I assembled my cabinet and worked to sign legislation that would please the conservative political party. I spread my ideological legs generously, and I made sure my dignity was perfectly in line with the ground.
As they finished listing their increasingly insane legislation desires, they made an unexpected declaration of how much they respected me and my diplomatic gift horse: “Negro, you’re 300 laws away from our begrudging respect.”
Was our S&M-type relationship as simple as signing a few of their bills into law?
Our relationship has always centered upon their selfish needs and my utter humiliation. We met in 1997 in Washington, D.C. when I was a junior senator from Illinois, and a friend I worked with spotted a pack of old white men. An introduction was made, and I found out they’re largely affiliated with the nation’s red states, kind of dickish, obsessed with Ayn Rand and very good liars.
On our second meeting, January 20, 2009, they cooked up a proposal–to make my life a living hell for as long as I was President of the United States. More showdowns, nearly all of them embarrassing to my status as the leader of the free world, and soon, we were locked in heated battle.
Maybe I needed to show them that I could lay down and prove they could get what they want out of me. If they wanted 300 laws, I’d give them 300 laws–and I’d age at an unnatural pace. I set up my top internet employees on WhiteHouse.gov. I perused Drudge Report and Fox News for legislation ideas. I asked friends for ways to excise the last of my stature, but some, especially my international friends in power, were less than supportive of the plan.
“How pussified of you!” said Vladimir Putin, President of Russia, whose shirtless adventures were used to demonstrate his iron fist.
My own wife was doubtful. “Honey, can you be a punk bitch for that long?” she asked.
“No, but I’ve been learning from them!” I argued.
I started with easy laws. Naturalization laws for Afghan and Iraqi translators. Commemorative coin acts. My early thinking was quantity, not quality. Dozens of laws in, I did the math. This was a shitload of kowtowing. How would I finish 300 laws in time for us to not stare each other down without deep-seated hate that would pass for politeness in the Jim Crow era of our nation’s history?
Putin was the voice of reason. “Relationships are about getting what’s yours,” he said. “Take it one law at a time.”
I made laws as if my life depended on it. Updating the Patriot Act, making sure the NSA was more invasive–it was all in effect to get those crusty assholes off my back at the expense of the hip, young assholes that voted for me.
Even after attending foreign conferences and loads of bus tours, I found myself stumbling into the Oval Office to make the Republicans a law they’d like while in my tuxedo.
Making all these laws, I’ve learned how much the Republicans love to debase me. They love trying to defund the Affordable Healthcare Act, picking out sections and trying to rule them unconstitutional. Though I still want to curry their favor and not want to kill every single one of them, I’ve also put less pressure on the run-up to 300 laws and I’m enjoying not having a spine.
Today, I’ve made and signed about 176 bills into law. Over the years, my signed legislation has grown more complex–battery recharge stations for POVs, improving critical infrastructure cybersecurity. No matter what’s crossing my desk, the Republicans smile and say thank you for rolling over. He’s just happy I only have three years left in office after all.