The last time President Obama serenaded the people, I took a Magic Eraser to that memory, because I didn’t want to accidentally bring it up while talking to my mom. Almost every time Obama’s name comes up, my mom gets fluttery in the voice and I can tell she’s about to go through some changes. That is my cue to pick up and go. It’s like whenever I’m at her house and Anderson Cooper pops up on the TV, she jumps off of her La-Z-Boy and the next thing I hear is her bedroom door shutting, locking and the sound of Julio Iglesias’ greatest hits blasting from her stereo. It’s like that. My mom did bring up Sinatra Obama’s last singing performance and our conversation went something like this:
Mom: Did you see Obama singing the other night?
Me: Um…um… Yish, but Anderson Cooper’s on my TV right now!
So I’m not exactly amused with President Obama for picking up the mic at the White House’s all-star blues concert last night and singing out a few lines of “Sweet Home Chicago” with BB King and Mick Jagger. Obama is just fucking with me now. If Obama gets re-elected and keeps singing out, it’s going to be a long four years of awkward moments and phone hang-ups. Obama’s new motto should be: Yes, I Can Make You Reach For The Brain Clorox As I Make Your Momma Go Through Some Changes.