Dear Mr. President,
First off, I think you're doing a great job, and please take everything I'm about to say with a big grain of Kosher rock salt.
Stop having so much fun.
I'm serious.
This is the worst American economy in over seven decades, in other words a crisis, and you are taking your daughters not just to work, but on a European vacation. From there, you are making it 'a birthday week,' with a weekend celebration on Martha's Vineyard, followed by a surprise visit to bring birthday cupcakes to a reporter of all people, granted she deserved the cupcakes, and you happen to share the same birthday, but was that feel good moment for you, or for the cameras that would undoubtedly be snapped?
And, those frothy beers with Cornell West, and that policeman who's name isn't worth remembering, what was that all about, and was it necessary?
Ah, yes, I almost forgot. It's great that you, and Michelle go on dates. But, quite frankly, that matters as much to me as the blow job Monica gave Bill.
Can we get on with it?
