Barack Obama: ‘Til debt do us part
I was about to tuck into a delightful evening of Gordon Ramsay only to have my night interrupted by his money problems.
If I were an American, I’d be right pissed off.
I mean, you get home, have your Scotch and steak, snuggle down on the recliner with your spouse for some quality tube, and the last thing you want to hear is about money problems.
At nine o’clock at night.
We have a rule in my house that we never discuss money woes after dark because those kind of discussions always keep me up at night. I toss and I turn, I wonder whether Money Mart will lend us any more money this month because the car business sucks and we can’t pay our bills. Then, I wake up in the morning all groggy and miserable.
A discussion of money can only ruin the mood.
And that makes everybody cranky.
I’m sure Barry won’t be getting any, either.
I suggest the White House roll in a few cartons of Marlboros. It’s gonna be a long week.
Working out your money at night is no way to run a household, and it’s no way to run a country.
Now Barry’s even got me worried.
I was blissfully happy, as a Canadian, living in a country with a strong dollar and a manageable debt.
Now we have to worry about the snooty buggers to the South.
Well I can tell you one thing — they better not come North to ask us for money.
We’ve spent years getting laughed at because of the color of our money. Now that we’re good, those idiots are looking to us for a handout.
No sirree, Bob, we’re not playing.
Barry can go to Money Mart like the rest of us.
Or go to Oprah. She’s got more money than God does.
And she helped the man get elected, so I figure she’s on the hook.
Come on, O, spot the man a few tril.
You know you want to.
In the meantime, Barry, keep your money problems to yourself.
I missed the whole Eggs Benedict episode on Master Chef.
Now for breakfast, I’ve got nothing.