Bow-wow. You can call me Bo. I’m President Shoutout’s family mutt, a Portuguese water dog with curly black hair. My real name isn’t Bo, but I’m not telling you my real one. Bo is fine. It’ll do anyway. Took the White House brain trust four months to come up with it — you wouldn’t believe the names they actually considered. Let’s just say that “Alinsky” was a contender until Axelrod said “why don’t you just name it ‘Arafat’ and kiss off flyover country for 2012?” Yeah, he called me “it.” Axelrod’s a real sweetheart. Barry’s chief political advisor, which means he spent the whole presidential campaign sending candygrams to the press corps so they wouldn’t do their job. He could have accomplished the same thing with a Hershey bar stolen from an orphan’s Halloween bag. I got his number. Axelrod smells like cabbage and tries to kick me when Barry’s not looking.

obamacontempt

Right now, I’m sitting in the Oval Office with Barry, Axelrod and Chief of Staff and resident kneecapper, Rahm Emanuel, while the three chumps cool their heels in the waiting room. Barry’s staring out the window, going JFK on us, trying to figure out which precise upward angle of the chin registers that weary-but-resolute toughness that the press corps laps up. If he sticks that jaw up any higher he’s going to drown in a drizzle if you ask me, but the pose does seem to bring a flush to the freshly sculpted cheeks of Andrea Mitchell. (more…)