One Toque Over the Line; Chef’s Day at the White House

You’re going to get a kick out of this. Remember the Doc Flock we assembled before Big Guy’s “big f#@%ing  deal” (Joey’s words, not mine) healthcare passed?

Staff hands out white coats to docs assembled at the Big White

Well, we had a lot of left over white coats (like about 1000) because we couldn’t get as many doctors as we thought to show up to pose as useful idiots for Big Guy’s photo op. So, in the spirit of our “we’re all about green” recycling program, we just re-purposed them for our chefs-against-your-child’s-fat-behind program; or Stock Pot Schlock as I like to call it.

We asked the chefs to bring their own toques so everyone could see they were chefs. We didn’t want people thinking we were trying to shove more medical plans down their throats, but as you can see chefs are rather absent minded, disrespectful and irresponsible. Kind of like Helen Thomas.

Lady M’s wearing one of her new signature, uh, interesting visible back zippers. The racing stripe motif seems to be making a comeback for some reason.

The front of the blouse is interesting too, although it was solid white when we left the East Wing. But due to an unfortunate incident involving a blender, a missing cover and Rachael Ray we wound up with some cutting edge avant-guarde food art.

 

Rear View Just For You

  Raspberry, blueberry mint frappe! Yum-o!

Ray Ray Channeling Oprah

Here’s tee vee chef Rachael Ray, getting ready to prepare one of her famous 30 minute meal miracles: sea-green smoothies. Like Lady M, she spends more time talking about vegetables than she does actually eating any of them.

Peacock Blue. And Green. All Organic

It hardly seems possible, but it’s time for our second annual “first historic toxic organic garden peacock harvest.” Technically, last year’s first harvest was much later, but it was so successful we planted a special early-harvest variety this year.

 

Remember last year’s peacock harvest? We wore, what else, peacock blue and our world famous fashion icon boob belt.

This year, we went one better and wore peacock blue and green and replaced the boob belt with a Madonna style bra.

But the harvesting technique was pretty much the same; 

We did have a few heart stopping moments when Little Mo got tangled up in the root structure of Lady M’s peacock tails.

That’s Little Mo, inside the blue circle. You remember:  he escaped from the whirling jaws of Ricky’s blender at the big State Mole Fiesta dinner we threw for Felipe who came to town to tell us how to  operate our open border more effectively. Don’t worry, Little Mo  escaped from Ricky’s kitchen and Big Guy’s speech (something no one else has done so far) so he had no problem hauling tail out of Lady M’s roots. As a precaution though, I’m placing MO’s toxic garden off limits on harvest days.

  This is when Little Mo made his break.

And please, no questions about the choice of harvest attire. I just work here.

Put a Plug in it

After the big party Wednesday night, yesterday seemed pretty ho-hum. Except for the fact that Big Guy and Lady M were summoned to the children’s school: Apparently, we got in trouble for keeping the girls up too late the night before.

You can tell it must have been an important appointment at the girls school, because Lady M dressed up (mostly) like a grownup, put on her best Oprah face and brought grandma with her - who seems to be emulating Lady M’s casual summer hairstyle.

The Sidwell school cut the O’s some slack when they heard that the concert was held by Sir Pall - a legend of rock and roll. And I guess it didn’t hurt that he took the opportunity to make a joke about a former Republican President  not being very smart.

This from a guy once arrested for trying to smuggle dope into this country? And who was so dumb he married a gold-digger without executing a pre-nup? He must be a certified MENSA member.

 

 

I think we should  get Sir Pall together with James Cameron to fix that BP leak in the Gulf. In addition to both of them being certified geniuses, they’re eminently qualified: Cameron did Titanic and Sir Pall did “I’m Fixing a Hole.”  And since they both have a lot of experience with altered states, maybe they can do it with special effects. 

Daddy, can you plug this hole while you’re at it?

Wons Forever? Na, Na, Na, Na, NaNaNaNa

I have broken through the embargo on rear shot of the Byron Lars hoodie Lady M wore last night. I hacked into this video clip which the Wons promised PBS would not be shown until the special airs on the network you all own, later this year.

I’ll set the stage: Sir Pall asked the crowd to show their love for the Wons by singing a song of hope for their re-election.

Party on, dudes. Who knows when the music will stop.

I’ve Got Pictures!

Here’s the best I can get for you. Petey Souza is like the Grinch when it comes to releasing his pictures. And since he’s the only one allowed to TAKE pictures at these special parties, he exercises complete artistic control - in our most transparent Presidency evah!

 

As you can see, the drapey thing is going to give us problems, but nice belt and bangles. Back later if I can get my hard drive on anything else.

Technorati Tags: michelle obama,paul mccartney,white house

Sir Pall: NOT the Cerebral One

I promised I wouldn’t repeat this but, due to popular demand, here’s what Sir Pall said at the love-fest here last night:

“A few minutes after the concert, Mr. McCartney returned to the microphone, thanking the Library of Congress and adding, “After the last eight years, it’s great to have a president who knows what a library is.”

If his implication was that Big Guy, unlike GWB, knows how to read, I can shed some light on that. First, GWB was actually a voracious reader, but mostly he kept it to himself. It was speaking that sometimes tripped him up. Big Guy however – well, he reads every day. And I think we all know by now just how well he can read.

 

 

And one last word on Sir Pall – no wonder John was known as the “cerebral one.” And that was a real stretch too.

 This is your brain on drugs

I’m still working on the still images of Lady M and the Wee Wons –it’s just that I’m having a little trouble with all that “draping.” I’m hoping to have something for public release a bit later.

Sir Paul and the Taxman

Last Night Big Guy bestowed the Library of Congress Gershwin Prize for Popular Song on Sir Paul McCartney. Apparently this prize is not reserved strictly for Americans, even though it is named after an iconic American music man. Global economy, one world order and all.

Sir Paul and the Taxman – Back in the USSR

In return, Sir Paul said a few good words about his host, telling ABC yesterday  “I’m a big fan. He’s a great guy.So lay off him. He’s doing great.”  Then before he sang – surprise – Michelle, he told Big Guy that he’s got “billions of us rooting for you.” Unfortunately most of them are in the Middle East, and won’t be able to vote in the next election unless we get that Immigration Reform Bill passed. Then Sir Paul made a really snide remark about President George W. Bush. He must consider himself an honorary member of our MSM. I think I’m beginning to understand why Sir Paul won our American Music award.

So then Big Guy, who finally got the memo from Toes telling him to act like he’s really concerned about the catastrophic oil spill, ruined a perfectly fun evening by bringing it up and trying to act all empathetic. Apparently that’s what’s most important to his base - empathy. The effort wasn’t totally successful, in my opinion. Big Guy can certainly spin the truth convincingly, but acting? Emotions? Not so much.

We did have lots of famous people here for the award ceremony and concert: Faith Hill, the Jonas Brothers, Elvis Costello Jerry Seinfeld and Herbie Hancock. Originally Maureen Dowd was going to come but she mysteriously disappeared from Smootie’s official list after yesterday’s column in which she had the audacity to criticize the dope President. She said that “Woe-is-me is not an attractive narrative.” Probably because it’s most often referred to as petulance – a characteristic more often associated with 5 year olds than the leader of the free world.

It’s probably just as well Modo didn’t come to the party. Knowing that “separated at birth” is one of MSM’s favorite parlor games, they probably would have been cracking themselves up all night long.

A couple of old prunes related only by the fact that neither have  been relevant for decades, and neither of them are aging particularly well.

 

   

And of course Lady M was in attendence: hello! The whole evening was planned around Sir Paul’s signature song. I’ll have to put her pics up in the morning though: they need a bit of touching up and my batteries need to be recharged so I’m powering down for the night.

Harry’s Desert Daycare Camp

OK, now she’s just screwing with me. There are simply some things a FLOTUS simply should never even consider. Conducting a desert exercise program with an endangered octogenarian is one of those things.

 Curtains, bed skirt, placemats and an old rag

First of all, who takes an exercise program outdoors in June, when “outdoors” is the middle of a freaking desert?  And does this look like an outfit that anyone would exercise in - anywhere? That’s a silk skirt, people. Silk. In the middle of the desert. With the bed skirt and placemat thrown on top to make our “movement” more colorful. Or something.

As long as I’m venting, I might as well show you the rest of the “Let’s Move our daycare program for Harry Outside” photo ops. 

  I Can Fly! Las Vegas Edition

Lady M and Harry Reid perform their advanced mime routine.

Well, that should lock up the mime vote on the Strip for old Harry. So we’ve got that going for us. Campaigning for losers used to be a lot easier when all we had to do was call ACORN and let them know what we needed.

I know MO’s still ticked off about the baby doll pictures that slipped out from yesterday morning’s Women’s Conference in Reno. But I don’t think that clowning around in the desert at high noon with an old has-been politician is a very mature way to express our displeasure. 

And besides, I’m not the one who pulled the peach PJ dress out of the closet and exclaimed “Oohh! This will be perfect for addressing a crowd of business women in the middle of the morning!”

 

Trust me, even the matching coat with the boob belt would have been better.

And just for the record, it’s really not the humidity. It’s the heat.

 

 

 

Believe me Harry, I know exactly how you feel. I think I’m getting a double migraine.

Honey, Where’s That Carbon Credit Card?

Well, yes, I’m afraid it’s official. Algore and the Tipster are busting up their previously happy home of 40 years.

It doesn’t seem right, after what they’ve been through together: providing the inspiration and template for Erich Segal’s best seller and huge hit  movie, “Love Story,” inventing the InterWeb, inventing Global Warming.

 

The Tip, back when she looked like Melanie Griffith, before the surgery (Melanie’s not Tipper’s). And cute little Algore. He had issues with his carbon foot prints even back then.

 

 

Melanie, age 15

Geeze, if it can happen to little over-achievers like them, it can probably happen to anyone. Don’t you think?

Anyway, I will always remember them as they were back in the good old days of the Clinton Administration. Boy, those were halcyon days. Back then the only environmental spill we had to worry about took place in the oval office. And even though we had the Bosnian War to deal with, at least we knew who the real enemy was and our soldiers were allowed to use real bullets.

But don’t let me get nostalgic, it always clouds up my peripheral monitors and something bad slips right by me. Like this:

Oh dear, baby doll pajamas. In the morning. With pearls. 

But I digress. Back to the previously happiest couple in America (a title now officially held by Big Guy and Lady M).

When we were very young, and bad things – like hanging chads – hadn’t happened to us yet.

I’m just wondering if Algore really thought this breakup thing through. I mean, now that they’re both going to have to maintain their own separate gazillion dollar mansions and private jets, isn’t that going to, like, double the collective ex-team-Gore carbon footprint? How is that going to be good for the planet? How is this man ever going to sleep at night again?

I see a ton of carbon credits in this amicable divorce settlement.

The Morton Salt Presidency: When He Reigns, We’re Poor

UPDATE: ILLUSTRATION BELOW THANKS TO CRIPES SUZETTE!

A sudden and unexpected rain storm at Abraham Lincoln Cemetery in Illinois forced Big Guy to cancel his speech due to being unable to plug in his brain TOTUS. Our Morton Salt President: When he reigns, we’re poor.

You should have heard him up there, telling people to “calmly return to your cars” – you’d have thought we were expecting an asteroid to crash into the crowd, rather than a little rain. The cancellation was officially due to the potential danger of lightening, but if you saw the water running down Big Guy’s back off the umbrella, you’d have seen why TOTUS couldn’t be engaged. And Toes has laid down the law on this one: no TOTUS, no Big Guy. Period. We tried that once, last July. Remember? When those cops in Cambridge were acting stupidly? That’s why we didn’t have another presser until last week.

So we packed up Gram and the Wee Wons and headed back to Mecca (so to speak). As you can see we were still in our casual-at-home- comfortable style mode for the ride home.

Rear-view - in every respect of the word - as we prepare to board Air Force One

Deplaning in DC: frontal view is even more confusing. I was having a little trouble with my focus and color reflectors here, as you can see.

 

No, that’s right: harvest gold, avocado green, ironic black and white abstract print top with raglan sleeves and blouson waist

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seriously, how do you explain this? Quilting party gone rogue? Take your vintage curtains to work day? It’s definitely vintage, but it can’t be pinned on any one decade: 60’s colors, 70’s prints and 80’s style. I’m not sure this is the kind of retro people are yearning for. I think the current nostalgia for things from the past runs more along the lines of borders, language and culture: stuff that makes democracy work.

But hey! Strangely colored, patterned multi-culti Mumus might just do the trick too. Remember, being a fashion-forward icon means Lady M knows more about these things than you or I. So I’d suggest you all head on down to your local Salvation Army store to stock up. It’s probably a good idea to get used to shopping there anyway.

cartoon H/T Cripes Suzette!

All Is Well, Safely Rest.

Tweet-le D-Day to Tweet-le Dumb

Lady M said it’s been so nice being back home, where we don’t have to put on any Ayers because everyone here already knows who we  are.

But it sure has been noisy around here. Everyone is slamming cupboards and I’ve even seen a couple of flying saucers. Just a little dispute over when, exactly, we’re heading back to the Big White

Apparently there was some kind of major communication breakdown between Big Guy and Toes regarding attendance at the traditional Arlington Cemetery Memorial Day service. I just happened to catch the reflection of a tweet that came in from Toes in Jerusalem late last night. Here’s what it said, and pardon my French - but I think you all know how Toes is: “WTF! What are you still doing in Chi-town? get yur ass back to DC for the Arlington gig u giant FU.” I’m sure that sounds harsher in 140 characters than Rhambo meant it.

So then, Big Guy – who’s had a very tough week, did I mention that? - tweets back: “Chill, dude – I’m hitting a wreath ceremony at Abraham Lincoln cemetery right here. Same, same.” 

Big Guy tried to pretend he didn’t get a response to that one from Toes, but my reflector drive had already peeked captured its image bouncing off Big Guy’s Blackberry.  “ get your dumb ass back NOW you dick-head, You're president of the f---ing US, not mayor of f---g Chicago!” Amazingly, he got his message across with dozens of characters to spare.

Odds are good BO tells Toes he never got his tweet. That won’t be pleasant, but Lady M’s not ready to go back just yet and it will be easier than dealing with her.

Did I mention Big Guy’s had a really, really tough week? I think it’s the toughest in the entire history of the world. “Let's face it: this has been the toughest year and a half since any year and a half since the 1930s.”

Somehow I don’t think it’s going to be any better next week.

 Just f---ing shoot me now!

“He’s Just a Guy in the Neighborhood” UPDATED

Thanks to MOL ‘Anon2’ we have an update from Byron York. Turns out the Reverend Farrakhan really is just a “guy in the neighborhood” after all!  After some uncomfortable hours,  a quick call from one of our homies in Motown got the Rev’s Fruits to stand down. Crisis averted, and Big Guy never even had to hear about it let alone try to deal with it. And that’s a good thing, since he’s had a lot of other “stuff” on his plate lately.

Your pooler got a call at about 10:15 local time from a pool report reader who identified himself as the Rev. Gary Hunter, a Baptist minister in Motown who writes and blogs for the Detroit Times. He said he had called Minister Farrakhan and his son and asked them to have the Fruit stand down.
“I told him you were good people,” Rev. Hunter said. “He said he didn’t know you all were just waiting for the president.”

ORIGINAL POST:

Oh dear! It seems our friendly little neighborhood BBQ last night at, reportedly, the house of an “old friend”  was inadvertently held at a home owned by none-other than race baiter, Jew-hater Louis Farrakhan. And even though he’s just “a guy in the neighborhood,” the suddenly not-so-supportive press is probably going to try to make a big deal out of it anyway. At least we still have AP on our side. But it seems like almost everyone else is bailing on us: our “conservative” cheerleader, Peggy Noonan – even the Wapo!

Oh yeah, we’re having fun now! You can tell by our facial expressions. But I’m not crazy about that “shot from behind bars” effect.

I’m going to have to tell you, it’s really been a pretty crappy weekend so far:

The Sestak Bribery scandal refuses to go away

The Giant Oil Leak refuses to go away

The criticism refuses to go away

And the “thin-skinned” Won refuses to go away

Maybe we should have just stayed in Washington and gone to the tomb of the unknown soldier after all.

 

Valuable evidence gathered via DougRoss@Journal