Just between you, me, and the fencepost, I know what Obama heard when he was listening in on Angie's phone calls, courtesy of the NSA.
It might have been a lullaby--it put him right to sleep. In fact, it was so, well, banal, that he mixed it up with phone calls from Michelle, and that's how he got caught.
Are you ready?
Sit down now so you won't be shocked.
This is what Barry heard:
"Hi, Sweetie, we're running late."
"I'm so sorry. But there's chicken teriaki marinating in the fridge right now--the way you like it, with garlic, ginger, and orange juice. If you want to get started before I get home you go right ahead--"
"Angie, you said you'd be home by NINE at the LATEST. That's what you said."
"I know, Sweetie, but my secretary had to make some photocopies and the machine broke down and . . ."
"You're the chancellor of Germany! How can the machine break down? It wouldn't dare!"
"Well, it did, it did--the woman who brings the paper wasn't around either, so after they fixed it . . ."
"(chortle) You didn't have any way to print?"
"(giggle) Yes, exactly."
"I love your giggle. Do you think we might get away next Saturday?"
"If I don't have to deal with those awful . . . . wait!"
"Never mind. How about Bad Salz- . . ."
"Oh, anywhere! I have to run. If I'm not back before nine, heat the wok and chop the zucchini and sauté that first, then set it aside . . . '
"Never mind, I know how to cook. Get that cute little behind of yours home."
It's that last line, you see, that particularly mortifies our Angie. I shouldn't really say "our," since I'm still an American citizen (in itself a blight, these days) and can't even vote for her. But I admire the woman, I do. She ought to settle Barry's hash, and fast. Germany could always grant Edward Snowden asylum, and spring Chelsea Manning from the clink. Get on that right away, Angie--ask Mossad for assistance.