While I was taking stock of my life, I heard someone saying, "I told you so!" Startled, I look around. But, I was alone.
Again, I heard the same voice saying, "Why are you ignoring me?"
I said in exasperation, "Who are you and where the hell are you?"
"Well," he said, "I am here sitting with you at this café! Don’t pretend like you cannot see me!"
There he was sitting cross-legged at teashop in Cairo, Egypt smoking a water pipe and holding a cup of mint tea in his right hand.
"You are wrong," he said before I spoke, "I am in Lebanon, Ohio."
"How did you know what I was thinking?"
"I know more than you think!" he said smiling.
"Who are you?"
"Again?" he said rolling his eyes.
"Didn’t I tell you," he said without waiting for my response, "that the skinny kid with the big ears and the funny name is an imposter."
"Who?" I exclaimed. I didn’t know what he was talking about.
"Your savior," he said with clear disdain, "The One!"
"Aah!" I now understand what he was trying to say, "You mean the President?"
"Do you know what Aah means?" he asked me in contempt.
"Anyway, did you remember what Clinton said about your Aah?" he continued scornfully. He didn’t wait for my response as usual.
"Remember when she said your Aah will not take a 3pm call?"
I interrupted him, "I think she said 3am..."
He held his hand up palm facing me, signaling me to shut up, and retorted, "Whatever!"
"Listen," he said as he appeared in a new place, "Your Aah or whatever is exposed as an imposter. Something happen in the way from the inauguration site at the Capitol to the White House."
"Why are you repeating ‘your Aah?’ He is the President of the United States of America and his name is Barack Hussein Obama." I protested.
He continued as if he didn’t hear what I said.
"Remember how he botched the Oath of office?" He queried. As usual he didn’t wait for my answer.
"Remember how the Iranian Wise Lady helped him usurp the presidency with no regard to our living constitution?" This time he was as mad as Glenn Beck; almost crying.
I was taken aback and asked for clarification about the Iranian Wise Lady he mentioned.
He said shaking his head, "That lady with the funny name!"
I said, "You mean Justice Sonia Sotomayor?"
"That is her!" He said with a grief, bitterness.
"But she is not an Iranian." I protested, "She is an American."
"Her parents were from Port Sudan!" He retorted.
"No!" I said alarmed by his misinformation, "They were from Puerto Rico!"
"You say tomato, I say tamato," he said it waving his hand in dismissal, "What is the difference; they both have Port in it."
"Who are you?" I asked him in disbelieve.
"If President Cheney was in power he would have nuked Niger into the Stone Age," he said nodding his head in agreement with himself, "because of what their boy tried to do onboard of Northwest flight to Delhi!"
"Delhi?" I wondered out loud. But he interrupted me and continued his ranting, "Cheney would not have tolerated this kind of naked aggression on these United States without taking direct, unmistakable and courageous action against the country or countries that plotted such demented plan."
"Hey, why are changing locations all the time?" I asked him as he appeared in another new place, smoking this time a different kind of pipe.
"Well," he said smiling sheepishly, "this is Wasilla, Alaska!"
"What are you doing in Wasilla and how you get there?"
"Wasilla," he said childishly, "is where god communicates with our beloved leader, the President of Alaska and the lower states."
He asked me teasingly, "Do you know what Wasilla means in Arabic?" As usual he didn’t wait for my response.
"Wasilla," he said, "means in Arabic: connection, expedient, intermediary, modality or device. And that is what Sarah Palin is. She has a direct uninterrupted hotline with god, who communicates with her in Wasilla; ask your Arab friends."
"Listen wacko," I said very crossly, "Sarah Barracuda is not, has never been and will never be a president. She is not god’s device or anything." I was fuming. I think smoke was coming out of my ears.
"Hold there," he commanded me with a barking sergeant major’s voice, "you cannot talk to me in that tone. Don’t you know who I am?"
"No! I don’t know who you are," I roared back, "and I don’t care! Just leave me wacko."
"Well," he said shifting his eyes from my direction, "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me."
There was a few seconds of dead silence, or so I thought.
"Look," he said in a quieter, kinder tone, "I am not telling you all of these because of malice." He continued raising his voice a notch, "even your liberal friends at Dailykos are saying it. Your Aah is an imposter. Why, he himself, I mean the imposter, said that he is the president but Bruce Springsteen is the boss."
"How that happen?" I asked him in astonishment.
"Because of Ax and Rahm," he said and without losing a beat.
"Why?" I demanded.
"Why?" He sneered, "Why? Because they hate Bibi!"
"Bibi? Who is Bibi? I inquired without thinking clearly.
"Netanyahu," he said mockingly, "you fool!"
"Why they hate Netanyahu? I asked him again, wondering what the hell he was talking.
"I can hear you thinking," he scolded me. He took a deep breath and said, "I can see that you didn’t hear what Bibi said about those guys. Well, let me tell you what he said. He said that they are ‘self-hating Jews!’"
"What?" I said, "Are you that crazy?"
"So, somewhere between the Capitol and the White House in a broad daylight and in front of millions of people they were able to switch the President with an imposter?" I couldn’t follow his logic.
"You see," he said calmly as he was speaking with a toddler, "it happened before."
"How? When?" I asked him in disbelieve.
"When President Bill Mitchell had stroke and his promiscuous wife replaced him with her lover Dave Kovic, who was a spitting image of the President."
"But, that was a movie and the President in that movie was the womanizer, not the wife," I tried to correct him.
"What do you think Bruce is?" He sneered again.
"I give up please just get out of my head," I demanded but to no avail.
"Look," he said pointing his finger at me, "as they said; you're entitled to your own facts, but not your own opinion."
"I am afraid it’s the opposite of what you said," I corrected him.
"As I said," he continued without looking me, "who cares! Your Aah is floundering; he is over his head. And as the goddess Palin foretell he is palling around with terrorists." He said that in thundering laughter, "if you don’t believe me ask your ideal Keith Olbermann."
"I told you so!" He said lifting up his pipe, "And she told you so! Even President Cheney told you so."