Mrs. Goldman from The Birdcage at the White House
By: Nolan Yard
Tags: Politics, President, Wine, Comedy, Humor

Co-owner of Miami Drag Club, Mrs. Goldman Has Dinner with the President

Overheard dinner conversation with Mrs. Goldman in White House Banquet Room (pre-COVID), after she and husband Armand were invited by Vice President Kevin Keeley, who, after being forced by the President, reluctantly reached out to his daughter’s in-laws:

Oh yes, Mr. President, it is indeed a conspiracy. They are eating the children. Yes, literally eating the children; all of them. You don’t see as many babies anymore. Well, now we know why… Yes, waiter, I would like another…

And the parents — where are they? Workaholics. All of them. They can’t look up from their emails for one second. The price they pay is their kids are missing, served as super-health protein shakes to coastal tech execs. That’s what I believe, anyway. Oh, my, these buckwheat mini-pancakes are lovely, ha ha ha, just a few more.

What’s that? They want to take away their guns? That’s ridiculous. Everyone has a right to a weapon. We’re all driving cars — they’re weapons, technically — so why can’t we be packin’?

Oh, nonsense. I agree with you. It is a civil liberty issue. Just because the founding fathers had old-fashioned muskets instead of semi-automatic, multi-magazine hand cannons to hunt their dinners, doesn’t mean we should take these guns off the market. They should be made available to everyone, including children. Hiccup. What’s that? Why the children? Oh, that. Why, to protect themselves from the Illuminati that’s trying to eat them. And to protect them from their parents, too.

You know, there is wisdom in kids. Why just the other day I was thinking how young Val got into our liquor cabinet. He must’ve been five or six at the time. He didn’t mind the grenadine or Collins mix so much, but once he sampled the whiskey, he says, that’s when he realized his mischief. He was so repulsed by it, he dumped all Armand’s 18-year scotch down the drain. Ha ha ha.

Oh, you should have seen Armand’s face when he found out. Red as a nipple. I was trying so hard to keep from laughing that I was crying. Oh my, what memories. From that day forward, our Val has never been a fan of alcohol. Why, he might as well be a teetotaler. Young Barbara, she’s practically a split hair, and I think she drinks more than him. Ha ha ha. Oh my, I’m so happy for their marriage, and for Vice President Keeley. Oh, I… I think I’m going to cry.

Oh, yes, I think marriage is the foundation of our country. Well, that and the constitution. But I think — and I mean no offense Mr. President — that we really need to implement more policies that reinforce the SC’s decision that same-sex marriage is the same as all marriages.

Now, I know not everyone agrees, but you know there are so many divorces and devastating splits of hetero-marriages that really it is a mistake by so many to believe that same-sex marriage is somewhat inferior. They have families, and all that entails, too. Everyone’s miserable. We’re all adults here. We all file tax returns. We all need a hug and kiss from someone every now and then, so why do we encourage demeaning policies, inequity in legal code and technicalities?

If you want to be technical, they are in love, same as you are with your lovely wife, same as I am with Armand. Doesn’t matter if two shepherd dudes in ancient Israel had their own version of Brokeback Mountain, or brokeback sand-dune, or whatever. Doesn’t matter if two MMA ladies want to spar in the bedroom, today. Biblical times, modern times. It’s all the same. So, could you cut them some slack?

Oh, don’t look at me that way. You know how I am when I drink! I am hounding you; all in good fun. But, if a hound has the President’s ear, if only for an evening, she has to bark!

Oh, thank you, waiter. Oh, that is lovely. What is this, pinot? Oh, merlot. I knew it must end in an “oh.” Hiccup. Oh, isn’t it funny how most of our society centers around alcohol? We drink to spend time together, as if that’s the only reason to be near our fellow man. We drink to feel good, even though it’s technically a toxin. We drink to numb our minds, to escape the drudgery of daily monotony, aka our spouses — oh, I’m just being facetious. I love my Armand.

But seriously, we are so gung-ho for booze, but a little bit of pot in many states gets you locked up. Now if you were to ask me who could drive me home tonight and I had no choice but a one-arm high-as-a-kite stoner and a drunk, ten out of ten times I’d go with Cheech. That’s why the legislature has got to get the Feds on the bandwagon. Legalize it tonight, I say. Oh, I don’t mean to hound you, Mr. President — I… I really am enjoying my wine.

Oh, hello Armand. What’s that? You want me to share a slice of cake with you? Well, alright. Oh, yes. Oh, of course, Mr. President. Don’t let me detain you. It has been a pleasure. Well, I am overjoyed that you value my opinions. Simply overjoyed. Let us return to traditional family values, let the kids have their drugs and guns — not all at once! They need something to deal with the pedo-parents and child-trafficking trillionaires. Maybe there’s something to be said about that “Q.” Maybe the “Q” stands for “cutie.” Oh, ha ha ha, of course. Okay, Armand, I’m coming, I’m coming. Good evening, Mr. President.