Yeah, I was right.

It must be pretty comforting to know that after your Presidency is complete in eight years, you will have quite a source of income based solely on your image. Think about the possibilities, dude. When you leave Washington to go back and farm corn or whatever it is those in Illinois do, you can simply live for the rest of your life by selling stuff with your face all over it to the legions of Americans who think you are Jesus.

I’m talking about an action figure line, maybe some designer clothes at Wal-Mart a la the Olsen Twins, maybe even a blockbuster action film!

Seeing the countless racks of wares with your (likely unlicensed) image throughout the last few months, I have come to the conclusion that this whole Presidency thing is more of a time killer until you can evolve from the prince of politics into the messiah of the marketplace.

Barack Obama t-shirts, Barack Obama stationary, Barack Obama DVDs, and Barack Obama salad dressing to take the place of Newman’s Own. Heck, it’s only a matter of time (read: a month) until kids start showing up to school with Barack Obama valentines for all of their good friends. The possibilities are endless!

Bitter? No. I just wish people would pay to have my face on crap.

Don’t get me wrong. I think (much to the chagrin of some of my eastern European counterparts at school) that the Olympics are a big waste of my time. It does nothing but interrupt my regularly scheduled week of new television shows and makes girls lust after gnarly snowboarder types.

But after watching the US fall short of beating the team from Japan in what appears to be some strange game of giant shuffleboard on ice, I came to appreciate the hotness that somehow comes from Bemidji, Minnesota.

And here’s a fun fact for you: Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox were from Bemidji. Not only can this little corner of northern Minnesota produce the hottest things to hit the ice since Emilio Estevez in The Mighty Ducks, but it can also captivate a nation with folk tales that make absolutely no sense whatsoever.

Thank you, Bemidji. You get the gold medal in my book.

You buy them. They sit there. They die. They sit there. You throw them out. You have an empty vase and an empty wallet. Your lover will probably leave you at some point within the next year. You have an empty vase, an empty wallet, and an empty heart. You are back at square one.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everybody!

I am of the opinion that the majority of those folks who regard Valentine’s day as a commercial institution that is wholly unnecessary are in the same boat as me: HMS Lonely And Bitter. So, if you’re one of my fellow passengers, I’m just here to give you a friendly reminder regarding the origin of your defensive sentiment regarding February 14.

Have a nice day, fellow lonesome losers.

Tomorrow is a half day at school because of President’s day. President’s day?! It’s not really a holiday, its like two birthdays mixed into one that gives an excuse for lack of work. No matter, at least I don’t have to put any effort into my being tomorrow.

I just want to say
That I want you to kick me
In haiku format.

Valentine’s Day is such a load of crap. It’s the universal “Americans are deep in debt up to their ears from Christmas so why not spend thirty bucks on a bunch of flowers that’ll die in about a week” day. Lord knows it’s exactly what we need, that coupled with chocolate that (admittedly) I don’t like all that much. I’m convinced this Saint Valentine fella is the spawn of Satan.

Yeah, I said it – wanna fight about it?