The hot mess that is Joe Biden stirs the imagination regarding what it would be like to have a direct conversation with the man, perhaps over a morning brew. No doubt it would be surreal, and confirmational of his declining mental state, not that further evidence of Biden’s mental failings would make any difference to his deaf, dumb and blind supporters
I’m thinking it might go something like this.
Me: So, Joe, how about this heat wave?
Joe: It’s not hot. You’re just like the people griping about inflation and the economy. They’re clueless, too. Things are great. It’s your imagination about the heat, too. It’s cool, man. You’re just a lying, dog-faced pony soldier.
Me: Moving on, you or your people, recently put out a social media post claiming zero inflation currently and you also told CNN in May that inflation was running 9 percent when you took office. Actually, inflation was 1.4 percent on a year-over-year basis back then, and the current annual inflation rate in the U.S. is between 2 and 3 percent, depending on the specific measure used.
Joe: Come on, man. It’s just like I was telling the president of Greece, Zelenskyy, the other day, people need to just relax and enjoy how great things are here. It could be a lot worse. They could be living in Ukraine. Zelenskyy even told me he’s grateful he’s living in Greece, not Ukraine.
Me: OK, I think. Lately there have been a lot of videos of you at public events staring blankly, wandering off and in many cases needing someone other than your usual handler — DOCTOR JILL BIDEN — to lead you around. What’s going on?
Joe: Did I ever tell you about the time I made Corn Pop back down? He was a bad dude, man. But he was/is black, so no doubt he voted for me, maybe more than once, and even if he’s technically dead. You know how those gang thugs don’t have a long life expectancy.
Me: But the videos?
Joe: Look, that Juneteenth thing, I thought Kamala was doing enough jumping around for the both of us. Obama was just trying to get a little air time when he grabbed me and walked me off the stage in Hollywood. That Group 7 deal, I was just going over to shake the hand of that 7-foot tall white rabbit – Harvey. And D-day, there really was a chair I was looking to sit on. You just couldn’t see it. Stealth technology.
Me: I see, or I don’t see, I guess. Something a lot of people saw – and can’t unsee – is the way you rubbed foreheads with Pope Francis the other day. He didn’t seem to like it. What was going on there?
Joe: Look, that’s just Joe Biden being Joe Biden. Maybe you’ve seen me standing uncomfortably close to young females, or smelling the hair of women near me in public settings. Well, the Popester is a guy and he’s bald, so I couldn’t smell his hair, could I? Rubbing my forehead against his was the next best thing.
Me: On that note, I’ll let you go since I guess you have a lot on your agenda . . .
Joe: Nope, this is it. Maybe a phone call from Hunter later – loves to keep The Big Guy in the loop – but nothing concrete except my nappy, watching some Brady Bunch reruns and then early to bed.
Me: Well, I do have some things I need to do . . .
Joe: Let me give you a little parting advice. The coffee was OK, but you ought to have something around for guests to munch on. I’m so hungry, I could eat Uncle Bosie if those damn cannibals hadn’t beaten me to him.
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