Obama Letter to Karl Marx: Cavernous Trachea is Back!

Tonight after Sahib Jr. Jr.'s baseball game, I picked up his bat bag to put his mitt away.  In the bottom I found the now familiar envelope with a note attached.  It said:  "Things are getting tense in the White House. Obama is starting to lose it. Here's his latest letter to Karl M.  Your friend, CT".  This was the letter:

Dear Karl,

Where to begin?  Who can blame me for going after Joe this time?  I mean who hasn't, in a fit of anger, at least once grabbed a rocket launcher from a Secret Service agent and taken a shot at their bane of existence?  I'm having to dictate this letter to my faithful unicorn, Stanley, because they've tucked me into bed kind of tight.  The doctors said something about not untucking me until I read some new Marvel comic.  I think they said it was about Thor.  Kind of a catchy title.  They called it a Thorazine.  

I just don't know what has happened.  My life has gone in the crapper faster than a Kim Kardashian marriage. One minute all the Republican candidates are beating on each other like British soccer hooligans after a loss to France, and the next I'm trailing Mitt Romney in the polls by three points!  

Things were looking so good.  My dear fictitious children, Sandra Fluke and Trayvon Martin, were providing me great press opportunities and deflecting the attention of the proletariat masses from the crippling debt, massive unemployment, and horrible economy with which I have gifted the country.  I was being celebrated for the one year anniversary of my killing of Osama Bin Laden.  And I had just about convinced everyone that the Buffet Rule would correct the rich not paying their "fair share".  Now look what's happened.  Has anyone ever has as bad as luck as me?  (I think it's a Rush Limbaugh plot!)

• The unedited photos of George Zimmerman leaked out showing the gashes on the back of his head. 

• The right-wing media found out that Sandra Fluke really wasn't a doe-eyed 24 year old co-ed, but a 30 year old feminist activist. 

• Charlie Sheen took my Secret Service agents out for a night on the town in Columbia. 

• Eric Holder is getting reamed in the congressional hearings over Fast and Furious. 

• The American public seems to think that Seal Team 6 was responsible for Osama Bin Laden's demise and not me. 

•  Some moron left the mike on when I was visiting with my good buddy Dmitry Medvedev about how "flexible" I can be after next year's election.

• Village idiot Joe Biden can't wait for the convention to unveil my support of gay marriage.

• People have figured out that we're fudging the numbers on unemployment and it's really not going down.

• Someone noticed my creative editing of the official White House presidential biographies  where I've added my fantastic accomplishment to every president's bio since Calvin Coolidge. (Ford doesn't count since he was never actually elected.)

Why is everyone conspiring against me?  I just can't be a one term president.  Maybe I can start another war.  It worked for Bush.  Oh well, I better go.  Those pretty colors swirling around the ceiling are too much fun to ignore.  Thanks for being there for me Karl!

Your friend,

Barry

As usual, I checked the surrounding area for clues as to Cavernous Trachea's identity.  I did find one strange thing.  Hoof-prints near the dugout.  Hmmmm.....

Cavernous Trachea Strikes Again! Obama Letter to Karl Marx

Just when The Crew and I had thought we had heard the last of Cavernous Trachea, it happened again.  I was pulling the daily school planner out of Sahib Jr.'s backpack and I found an envelope addressed to SACSTW.  In the envelope was a letter with a post-it-note on it.  The post-it-note said, "Hello gentlemen!  Here is the latest missive from Dear Leader Obama to his hero and inspiration, Karl Marx.  Enjoy! Your friend, CT "  This was the letter enclosed:

Dear Karl,

I don't care what anyone says!  I did NOT have another "episode".  Maybe my celebration was a little excessive, but once again my actions were misinterpreted.  I probably shouldn't have done my Yosemite Sam imitation, snatched that Secret Service agent's gun out of his holster, and started shooting holes into the ceiling of the Oval Office, but I was just so darn excited.  Things are really starting to come together.  

Joe hasn't said anything incredibly stupid in the last 24 hours. (I wonder if he's in the country.) Moochelle is planning another vacation and is going to be on Leno so she hasn't been nagging me about smoking.  The republicans are beating the crap out of each other in the primaries.  Breitbart's death has delayed the release of his "Obama Gone Wild" video series at least for a while.  Life is good!  But you know what Karl?  That's not what really has me revved up.  I have accomplished two things I thought would never happen in my presidency. 

My two biggest enemies, Rush Limbaugh and Benjamin Netanyahu, have really screwed the pooch.  I think I've really snowed Bibi about Iran.  I think I've lulled him into complacency by repeating "Give negotiations a chance! Give sanctions a chance!" over and over again.  I never thought he would buy it, but I believe he has.  He has to keep the rhetoric up to assuage his constituency, but I think I can stall him long enough that Iran will have nukes before Israel feels they have to preemptively strike.  I am SO smart.  But he's just the little Satan.  I've scored my biggest victory against the Great Satan, Rush Limbaugh.

I can't believe Rush fell for DNC plant, "23" year old Sandra Fluke.  I mean it was SOOOO obvious.  She's a Cornell graduate for Pete's sake, and that's where I "went" to college. (Hee, hee, hee) Wait, no, I "went" to Columbia.  Oh well, whatever.  She was perfect with her "cherished" friend who lost her ovary due to the pernicious policies of the Georgetown administration.  I can't believe no one thought to ask why such a champion of female contraceptive rights wouldn't chip in a few bucks a month to help a "cherished" friend in dire medical straights. Or why didn't her anonymous friend go to Planned Parenthood or any of the multiple free clinics in DC?  Stupid conservatives.  And then Rush takes the bait hook, line, and sinker by calling her a slut and prostitute.  I couldn't get the talking points off the Media Matters fast enough.  Five dollar a gallon gas, trafficking guns to Mexican drug cartels, the Volt going belly up, more "green" energy companies propped up by federal loans failing, who cares?  Rush obliquely called someone a slut.  This has been the best week ever.

Well Karl, I have to go.  The doctors won't give me any more of those B12 shots that make me feel so good.  Eric Holder has to sneak them to me down in the kitchen.  If I don't take them, my unicorn, Stanley, doesn't show up for our evening rides on the South Lawn.  Thanks for letting me share my awesome news with you.

Your friend, 

Barry

 I dug through Sahib Jr.'s backpack looking for more clues as to the identity of Cavernous Trachea.  All I found were some gumdrops in the bottom of his backpack.  Sahib Jr. hates gumdrops.  Hmmmmm....

Cavernous Trachea: New Obama Letter to Karl Marx

During my routine vehicle check for tracking and listening devices as I was leaving the SACSTW secret underground command bunker yesterday, I saw an object sitting on the driver's seat.  I had the SACSTW Robotics lab bring up the bomb robot to check it out.  Once the bomb analysis proved negative, the Crew and I examined the object.  It was a book with a note attached and several hand-written sheets of paper inside.  The note simply said, "Another letter from Obama to his hero Karl Marx.  Enjoy!  Your friend, Cavernous Trachea."  So devoted readers, we submit for your reading pleasure President Obama's most recent missive to his hero Karl Marx.

"Dear Karl,
The doctors are making me write to you again.  Apparently, they feel I had another 'episode'.  So while I am waiting for my latest B12 shot to kick in (I'm really starting to like them), they asked me to write you another letter.  

Everyone is REALLY overreacting this time.  It was just a simple misunderstanding.  With Herman Cain out of the game, I figured I would co-opt his 999 tax plan as my own. As you know from my last letter, Mr. Teleprompter has really been letting me down lately.  So to help me remember the numbers, I had 999 tattooed on my wrist.  All I have to do is pull up my sleeve a little and sneak a peak when I need one. 

Well Karl, that brings us to today.  It was too cold to play golf so me and my buds went down to the DC CYO to shoot a little hoop.  (For some reason everyone down there was giving me dirty looks.)  After the game, the priest who runs the place wanted to have a few words with me.  Something about contraceptives blah, blah, blah, freedom of religion blah, blah, blah.  So he looks down at my wrist and starts freaking out.  Before the Secret Service agents can react, he pulls a bottle out of his pocket and throws some sort of liquid on me. I don't care what anyone says!  I did NOT writhe on the ground screaming 'It burns! It burns!"  I simply slipped on the 'holy' water (I don't believe the lab results, I think it was some kind of acid.) and twisted my ankle.  I was calmly telling everyone "It turned.  It turned." 

Karl, why are the Catholics getting so worked up about everything?  Heck, you said religion is the opium of the people.  I thought they'd be so doped up that they wouldn't notice my little end-around the constitution.  Even Joe and the Notre Dame administration weren't with me on that one.  Don't they understand that I know what's best for them?  Ingrates... 

I just feel so alone.  I know the republicans hate my guts, but Harry Reid won't even bring my new budget to a vote. All it takes is a simple majority to pass and the republicans can't filibuster it.  Besides, I worked really really hard on it.  

I guess I still have my friends at Media Matters.  I got the idea for our weekly strategy sessions from LBJ and McNamara during Viet Nam.  I can count on them to get my message out correctly to the major news outlets.  I've given up on Fox though, I don't think they'll ever come around.  Maybe I can get Murdoch deported...

I'll always have you Karl, and of course Stanley*.  He should be around soon for our evening ride on the South Lawn.  I will be better.  I promise to try and maintain my composure even when Joe provokes me.  I can't believe he didn't think it was funny when I switched his Bible for the Koran before the prayer breakfast.  There's Stanley now.  Have to go.

Your devoted friend,
Barry"

After reading Obama's latest letter, the Crew asked, "Check out the book!  Maybe it has more clues as to Cavernous Trachea's identity."  At this point I noticed the title, "Plagiarism for Dummies", hmmmmmmm.

*Stanley is President Obama's pet unicorn.

Dear Karl: Obama Letters to Karl Marx

As the Crew and I were leaving the SACSTW secret underground command bunker one recent afternoon, we heard a slight scuffling noise behind us.  With cat-like reflexes we spun and drew down on a shadowy figure lingering behind a tree.  In an obviously digitally altered voice he/she said, “You have nothing to fear from me.  In fact, I have something that might interest you greatly.”  At this point, the figure tossed a bundle of what appeared to be papers at our feet.  “What’s that?”  The Crew Asked.  “Letters.  Letters from Obama to his hero” the figure replied.  “Who’s his hero?” I asked.  “Just read the letters.  They explain everything.”  As the figure disappeared in the fog I yelled after him/her, “Who are you?”  The figure replied, “Just call me… Cavernous Trachea” and he/she was gone. 

The Crew and I quickly repaired to the command center to read the letters.  This is the first one:

“Dear Karl,
 I don’t know why I’m writing you.  This seems silly.  The doctors are totally over-reacting to my little ‘episode’.  I mean everybody needs to blow off steam once in a while right?  Running naked though the West Wing screaming, “Spiders!  Spiders are eating my brain!” was just my way of blowing off steam.  And I really wasn’t going to impale Joe Biden on that fireplace poker.  I was just messing with him.  Nobody can take a joke around here.

 So I guess writing you is supposed to be a more ‘reasonable’ way to deal with my frustrations.  They told me to write a letter to my biggest hero and most influential person in my life.  You were my first and only choice.  So Karl, help me out here.  Everyone’s against me.  Moochelle (she almost caught me calling her that) has been on a spending spree that would make Paris Hilton jealous, Reggie abandoned me, the republicans are catching on to my tricks, and I think my new Mao Zedong tat is infected.  I can’t put any weight on my left cheek at all.  Everyone around me is bummed too.  Even my best buddy, Mr. Teleprompter, is off his game.  Last week in my state of the union address, he just kept repeating the same exact lines from his…  I mean my old speeches.  And the worst thing… no one in my entire administration can think of a  single new euphemism for taxes.  We’ve used them all up.  Darn that vast right-wing conspiracy for trying to wake the chumps… I mean people, up.

 You know what Karl?  I think the doctors were right.  I do feel better!  I’m sure it has nothing to do with that shot they gave me about 20 minutes ago.  They told me it was just a B12 booster for energy.  Oh well, I better go. Stanley, my pet unicorn, just came into my bedroom.  It’s time for our ride on the South Lawn.
 I’ll write you again soon!

Your friend,
Barry”

After reading the letter, The Crew and I went outside to where we had seen the shadowy figure to look for clues as to his/her identity.  The leaves and brush were disturbed where the figure had been standing, but we saw nothing else.  As we were walking away, The Crew exclaimed, “Hey!  What’s that?”  He picked up what looked like piece of scrap paper.  On closer inspection we discovered it was a receipt:

Agent Provocateur

133 Mercer St.

New York, NY 10012

$47,356.78

Hmmmmm….

*Editor's note:  Another great idea brought to you by SACSTW creative consultant Brian Holyfield - @Holyfield67