Originally posted at The Blacksphere
Not surprisingly, just like he disregards the US Constitution, Barack Obama disregards the Michelle-dictated menu and eats whatever he wants.
Even if he appears to obey, we all know that the whole healthy lifestyle deal is a ruse anyway, orchestrated by self-appointed “Let’s Move!” guru Michelle Obama who also, whether on vacation or dropping in on a DC Shake Shack, has been known to tuck into some high-calorie meals herself.
Still, Barack Obama’s relationship with fried food is eerily symbolic, especially because the president is scorching any chance for America to recoup its once-great glory. That may be why, while meandering around Martha’s Vineyard, he seems drawn to fried foods.
Either that or the president worked up a hearty appetite golfing, playing basketball, and hopping in and out of his limo to go to cocktail parties with NPR bigwigs. If the latter is the case, directing his motorcade to head toward Martha’s Vineyard’s Oak Bluffs to commandeer for himself two shopping bags full of fried crustaceans isn’t at all surprising.
Sniffing out the scent of oil in a deep fryer, Obama, wearing a casual blue fleece, a Chicago White Sox cap, and Nike sneakers, found his way to Nancy’s, the waterfront restaurant and snack bar. Michelle was not hiding out in the backside of the Beast, so she may have been back at the $7.6 million estate practicing hip-hop dance moves for her up-and-coming rap album and video.
Emerging from the limo, Obama greeted around 40 sycophants who had assembled outside the restaurant in the drizzling rain. He worked his way down the line, shook hands with the star-struck proletariats, and lied and said “good to see you” and “great to be here.”
With fried shrimp, fried oysters, fried onion rings, and French fries on his mind, the president broke away, approached the window, and ordered two satchels loaded down with exactly those things.
At the counter Obama told a greasy-looking white-haired guy with a huge potbelly, “Good to see you man, thanks for feeding us.”
Then, like the obedient little errand boy that he is, the president gathered up and lugged two shopping bags full of fried grub to the Oak Bluffs home of senior adviser and longtime friend, Valerie Jarrett, who was probably tapping her foot with her arms crossed, glaring out the window impatiently.
What took place when Obama got there is hard to imagine.
However, what isn’t hard to imagine is Val and Barry, feeding each other fried oysters while cooking up a plan to move America “out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
