Invisible Obama’s Apology to America

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America: I come to you today full of humility and contrition. What? Yes, I know you can’t see me, but I’m right behind this podium. Here, I’ll touch this flag behind me so you can see that I’m here. See it rippling? Yeah, okay…that’s me touching it.

Okay, back to the apology. The truth is, I said a lot of things the other night that I’m not proud of. I’ve always respected Mr. Eastwood’s work (Dirty Harry is, like, one of my all-time favorite movies), and I don’t know what overcame me at that moment. To be fair, he sort of tricked me—inviting me to join him on stage at the Republican National Convention. I thought we were going to do a little Laurel and Hardy-type bit, and then suddenly he just laid into me like that.

So yeah, I told him to shut up. Yeah, I told him that Romney could take his hand and shove it up his ass until it came out his mouth (which, by the way, he could totally do, so Clint was wrong on that count).  But my lashing out came from a place of pain. I mean, I’ve spent almost four years invisibly leading this country, and to have someone just turn my historical presidency (first Invisible Black President) into a side show like that really stung.

I also want to point out that despite Mr. Eastwood’s relentless verbal attacks, I was generally pretty polite throughout the whole speech. Besides for those few outbursts, I quietly checked my email and played a few rounds of Words with Friends with Biden and let Mr. Eastwood do his thing. I didn’t give him the finger, or stand behind him holding up bunny ears, which I totally could have gotten away with, because I’m invisible. No, I let him have his day in the sun, get his standing ovation, and be the hero.  Because, despite having been humiliated in front of a convention hall full of people who I’ve served to the best of my invisibility for the last three and a half years, I respect Clint Eastwood as one of America’s greatest living Hollywood icons.

So go ahead, make fun of the guy you can’t even see. Make fun of the guy who always gets cut in line at Starbucks because people don’t even realize he’s there unless he takes a visible friend with him. Mock the man who works tirelessly day in and day out, unsung, unseen, to try to make life just a little bit better for every American.

Because honestly, come November, I’m the one who’s gonna be feeling lucky. 

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