The Day After the Day After

Presser-ing on:

 

Well, we got that unpleasant task behind us. Lady M refused to come out of her room, claiming she still has one of her “sick headaches” – we all know what that means. Big Guy looked a little worse for the wear at the presser too:

Whew! We’ve got our Shar Pei face on today. That’s as close to humility as we get.

I think perhaps prunes for breakfast for the next few days would be in order, and then everything will be back to normal. Butt we’ve only got till Friday, because I don’t think they have prunes on the Indian sub- continent.

So after doing his best humble pie act (which I don’t think is quite ready for prime time.) We’re just packin’ up and gettin’ out of town. And I’m tired of hearing about the $200-million-a-day price tag that’s been floating around the blogoshere. Let me make this perfectly clear: this is before the bar tab and includes the dangerous coconut removal plan reported on by Daizie yesterday.

Take a peak at what Indian Hotels have on tap for the Wons: the 40 year Glenlivet.

 40 year old Glenlivet?!! How does anyone keep it around that long?

So big deal, it’s 10 days, on $200 million a day, or put another way: $2 billion. And, as a bonus, we’re saving oodles of Benjamins by cramming this vacation important diplomatic mission in before Ben-Bern fires up the money machine with our Quantitative Easing of the Fed’s printing presses (Spelled differently,  i-n-f-l-a-t-i-o-n).

Butt keep in mind, this is an unprecedented, historic, trip – when was the last time a FLOTUS (or even a POTUS) went all the way to India to visit sex workers?

 

What? Don’t we have enough sex workers around here? And if you include the pimps, they nearly outnumber the Republicans in this town.