Dear President-Elect Obama,
I reeeaaaaly don't need to be seeing my President shirtless. I don't. Really. No. Nope. Un-uh. Mr. Obama, put your shirt back on. Please. I realize you're on holiday, in your beautiful home state of "Ha-woy-ya," but's let's keep some perspective. This ain't out of disrespect, but the utmost respect, Mr. Prez. Damn! Where'd you get them abs? I mean they just seemed to crop up overnight. See we got a problem.
You realize I'm queer as the day is long, right? These pictures... oh my. How do I confess this? Is it wrong to swoon over the soon-to-be President of the United States? Feels dirty. Now, I don' know how you feel about other men-folks staring at you, but let's remove the gay factor, how's Mrs. Obama gonna feel 'bout anybody eyeing you up? Men and women? This just too much. I don' wanna think about you in that way.
You're my President. I've been a fan since before it was trendy to support you. Had my Barack Obama for President on the blog since you first announced your intention to run. I voted for you based on your ideals, not that devilishly smooth talkin' charm, charisma, and uber masculine confidence you're vibin'. Not this new body you got. You can't become a sex symbol now!!! You're a politician! All politicians need to be old and curmudgeonly. You up and done this?!? Gone presidential stud on us? Oh dear!
Must go hide face under rock...must control impulse to make comment on the pecs, the slight abs goin' on...must not lose credibililty.
I'm shock, amazed, and a bit mystified. Mr. B, you got yourself together real quick. Previous pics had you a little pudgy, though stick skinny, you weren't chiseled. Now? You got definition. What's the secret? I've hear rumors you don't eat much, but I forget, you run ball, so you must know a thing or two about keeping in shape.
Guess you finally put the cigarettes down too. Hopefully. The worse thing about trying to quit is the natural inclination to gain weight. And you're gonna be the leader of the Free World, with God's Grace, for the next eight years, so I don't wanna hear you had a heart attack or stroke. Put 'em down, big brother B.
Keep doing what you did to get that upper body, and er'rything gonna be just phiiii...I mean fine.