100 Days, Which Is Like 100% Except It's Not

OK, let's review. Yesterday was President Obama's 100th day in office which is significant first of all because it is 10 squared, second because it has more zeros than ones and third because the one it does have is on the left, whereas if it were on the right it would be his first day in office and you really can't expect much of a guy his first day on the job.

Well, try as he might, President Obama could not avoid the judgment of the American people on so momentous a day, and so is come before the national press core--who stand in our stead as agents in the battle for truth--to give an accounting of himself and his administration. For those of you unfamiliar with the national press core, it is a group of professional journalists, highly trained and experienced in the art and science of holding public officials accountable for their actions and keeping the American public informed and educated about the major issues of the day. And the White House press core that gathered for last night's press conference is the elite of these elite, a sort of journalistic SEAL team if you will, about to infiltrate Obama's defenses and lay his agenda bare for all to see. Let's watch.

First up, professional journalistic reporter Jennifer Love Hewitt...erm...Jennifer Loven of the professional journalistic organization The Associated Press. She hammers the president on his plans to allow the Mexican flu to wipe out the last republican strongholds in the south.

The president writes something down, then fixes Loven with a cool gaze. "Wash your hands," he says, ominously, and remember what happened to David Kellerman.

Next up, professional journalistic newspaper reporter Deb Price of the Detroit Central High School Spectrum, or the Detroit News, we're not sure which has the higher circulation, queries the president on his plans to socialize the auto industry.

The president's response is shocking: "So my goal is to make sure that we’ve got a strong, viable, competitive auto industry, FOR ME TO POOP ON!" It's obvious that he no longer fears the once mighty Detroit press, perhaps because only 23 people still live in Detroit. The rest have moved away or dispersed into the suburbs as roving gangs of scavengers. The president's victory may be short lived though, because his next question comes from Jake Tapper, owner of ABC News and star of As The World Turns. He wants to know why the president loves torture.

The president raises his right hand, suddenly Tapper clutches at his throat and appears to have difficulty breathing. Paramedics carry him away.

Mark Knoller, a tourist who wandered in from a White House tour then tries to follow up on Tapper's question.

The president has security shoot him.

Next, is professional television commentator and political analyst with six college degrees and his own space ship, Chuck Todd. Now, the president can't have wanted to call on him after Todd thoroughly tied Obama in knots at his first press conference, but Obama must have known he had no choice because the American people demand accountability, and waffles, and Todd's the one to get it. Todd wants to know when Pakistan will give its nukes to Osama bin Laden so he can put them on Air Force One and bomb the Statue of Liberty.

About six months," Obama says.

Then someone who said his name was Jeff Mason from some place he said was Reuters tries to ask a question, but Obama says there's no city named Reuters in the United States and refuses to answer.

Obama says he'd like to answer a question from one of the major networks and asks who is representing CBS. A man stands and introduces himself as Chip Reed and everyone has a good laugh because no one named Chip can be a professional journalistic reporter. "What's your dad's name, flake?" Obama says. "And he married your mom, splinter? OK, who's next?"

"I am sir," said Ed Henry.

The president fixes his gaze on Henry. "And?" he says.

Sir, I..."

"Say it," the president demands.

"Sir, it's just not..."

"SAY IT!"

"OK, OK," Henry's shoulders visibly slump. "I'm your Beotch."

"I'm your Beotch what?"

"I'm your Beotch, sir."

"And does the president take questions from his Beotch?" Obama hasn't taken his eyes of off Henry who seems to have found something interesting to look at on the floor.

"No sir."

"Right. Now go wash my car." Henry shuffles out as the room erupts in gale of derisive laughter. The president mimics Henry's gait from the podium and the laughter explodes again. Then, from the back, a voice is heard. Obama, wiping tears from his eyes signals to the tall well dressed man in the back, "Yeah, go ahead."

Jeff Zeleny, sir. New York Times. I'd like to ask you a question."

The laughter stops as if a switch had been thrown and the tension becomes almost palpable. The New York Times. This is it. No more dissembling, no haughty dismissals. This is The New York Times. The president looks nervous. Sweat can be seen on the his lip. He swallows hard. "Go ahead." His voice is barely audible.

And then, it comes.

The reporters sit in stunned silence. The president is speechless. His lips move, but no sound comes out. Zeleny walks to the podium and puts his arm around a visibly shaken president. "It's OK sir, he says, "It will take you more than 100 days to learn to deal with us." Then he leans over to the microphone and says, "This press conference is over." Reporters file silently from the room as if they're leaving a funeral. Aides help the president off the stage and back to his office. Zeleny sits alone in the now empty press room and texts his editor, "He needs more time. The force is strong in this one, but he's not ready yet."