The Governator

Today, I saw Arnold walk out of an Italian restaurant in Brentwood, amid a flock of men in black suits with curly wires coming out of their ears…I later learned that he was on his way to meet Obama at a different restaurant. Why didn’t they just dine together? Guess someone didn’t want to budge (Arnold), and miss out on his favorite calamari (I totally get it). So, they must’ve planned on having an afternoon Cappuccino…which all begs the inevitable question: What did these men talk about?

Obama: Don’t know about you, but I could really use a “me” day…
Arnold: No kidding, I was really hoping to catch a showing of Eat, Pray, Love.
Obama: Isn’t it inspiring when white financially privileged American women take extended trips abroad to find themselves?
Arnold: Oh, I get it…the minute I lose an election, I’m booking my month stay at an Ashram. Actually, today my morning meditation brought up a some intense childhood feelings of helplessness…in fact, I almost started to cry, but then I jumped in my Hummer and ran over the neighbor’s yard. I felt instantly better.
Obama: I thought they didn’t make those anymore…
Arnold: Uh, hello? I’m the Governor!…I mean, the Terminator…
Obama: Do you think they have any gluten free cobbler here?
Arnold: Are you kidding?! It’s West LA!
Obama: That’s no joke! I haven’t seen a Black man since LAX…
Arnold: If you think this is white, you should’ve seen my father’s Christmas parties.
Obama: Hey, man, I don’t want to hear any apologies about that Nazi stuff…not right now. We got work to do.
Arnold: Oh, darn! I left my agenda at the Italian restaurant…can I borrow yours for a minute?
Obama: Ok, but just this one time. I’m not going to enable your disorganization.
Arnold: Got it. High five?
Obama: Listen, old man, just smile for the camera, and shake my hand.
Arnold: Old man?!

Just for today, I can have a star siting.

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