Martha’s Vineyard is not what it’s cracked up to be. Michelle is still feeding me those veggie burgers. As you can see from my gravity-challenge issue, I just lap up the leftovers when they’re not looking.
My master took his teleprompter with him, but it’s only programmed to say, Good Morning, Good Afternoon, The situation is fluid and I’m going for ice cream. He brought it with him to the golf course and somebody in Homeland Security programmed it to yell out “Fore!”
Maxine Waters called and, after she hissed a few times, she asked my master about sending some people to hell. He said he thought he had plenty of money in the budget for that.
My master isn’t really writing any jobs plan, he has other people to do that. He did hire a lot of cooks and hairdressers for this trip so I think that’s probably his job plan.
I can’t stand that fancy Bo. Notice how fancy she thinks she is? She has her own hairdresser and sleeps on a big fluffy pillow. I want all her stuff.
Well, gotta go, I’m on duty.