Press Conferences

What a fucking sham and a half, the press conference.  You’re up there pretending to be open and press-conferencehonest.  All the while you’re choosing the people that ask the questions.  Of 50 to 100 people in the room, you choose like 10 tops.  Why even let the other people in?  Who the hell couldn’t look good in that situation anyway?  They’d never allow this shit in college.  Do you think anybody would fail Calculus if they got to choose the question on the test?  That shit would never fly during an interrogation either.  Ask Dick Cheney.

You bastards just pick the reporter with a reputation for not ruffling too many feathers, and yank their credentials like a fucking parachute ripcord the second they ask a tough question.  And how about that teleprompter…another cheat.  As long as you have good posture, you’ll look like a public speaking rock star.  The damn thing is positioned in front of and at 30 degree angles off the podium to simulate eye contact with the crowd.  Enough of this trickery!  It’s like those girls with big chests that wear a shit ton of makeup.  I don’t want to look at your eye shadow, dammit!  Stop distracting me with your lies!

Lastly, what’s with the group of grim-faced cheerleaders in the back of the room?  Are they standing in for the President’s parents?  Do they give him a pat on the back and a juice box at the end of the conference?  Or maybe they’re living, breathing lifelines he can use in case he gets in a jam.  Nothing like having a Treasury Secretary or Four Star General on hand if you don’t know your shit.  And if all else fails, just say you’ll get back to the reporter and take another question.

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