You’ve Got the President in your Car. You Aren’t Going Anywhere.

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By now, you’ve heard about Jerry Seinfeld opening his season with Barack Obama his first guest on his Crackle Network show “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.” If you haven’t, and plan to, this essay only kind of spoils.  Not really, though.

This essay is just a handful of photo stills from the show. Not trying to re-tell the story you have to see, Just pretty much revisiting some of the funner parts from MY perspective that if you did see it, you’ll remember. Obama showed himself to be a really down to earth cat. You really have to see the entire show, though. You’ll get what I’m meanin’.

Seinfeld matches a car’s personality with his guest’s. Very similar to how it works out with lowly musicians getting to play the world’s most valuable Stradivarius string specimens, the cars used by the show are owned by the sickly-0-rich and loaned for the show. The owners are given credit, of course; then the cars’ absorb their famous guests’ energy. The value of this already Corvette Stingray just shot through the roof.

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So, for the coolest President of all time, what car is cool enough but a ’63 Corvette Stingray. I won’t detail the thing, ‘cos you probably know, and I’ll let Seinfeld go it. Watch the show. Here are some stills just for grins:

Cruising down DC suburban wqay in the crisp winter air:

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A couple shots from the side.

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From the front, like looking into the face of a torpedo.

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And, of course, looking right into the tailpipe, the last thing you see as it flashes by you.

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Ok, the show. Seinfeld had a hard time getting the Prez to realize he was there. Dude doesn’t stop working to sleep.

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Got his attention and got him in the oval office. Where he immediately made himself very at home.

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Miraculously, Secret Service was able to get Seinfeld enough security clearance to get POTUS into the Stingray. The agents must have been crapping themselves. Especially when Obama took the wheel.

I guessed before air that Seinfeld wasn’t getting Obama off the grounds of the White House. Turns out, he tried. No dice. Like the title of this essay, “Sir, you have the President in your car. You’re not going anywhere.” The front gate Secret Service guard was a star.

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Obama did manage to get behind the wheel for a bit.

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It was here that we learned that even when Obama tried making it out while he was driving, no dice.

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Another Secret Service agent offered them assistance getting into the car they would be taking. Another guess of mine prior to air. “The Beast.” On a kind of super-tank frame that could withstend an IUD and probably a surface to surface missile. They still wouldn’t let them off the grounds.

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They did get to drive around the grounds a bit on the way to having coffee in the White House Kitchen made into a little makeshift cafe.

It was on this little jaunt that we learned the Commander in Chief can talk to a nuclear submarine on the way to dinner, and no, Seinfeld doesn’t get a souvenir Presidential seal for h

is back seat.

 

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So, they had coffee that Seinfeld made for POTUS on White House equipment. They volleyed banter. We learned that both are witty; both are funny; Obama needs anything, it’s a phone call away; and that the Prez only wears one color of boxer briefs.

In the end, Jerry couldn’t find his way back to his car and loitering became tresspassing in the garden outside the Oval Office. The Prez had to ask Secret Service not to hurt him. No word on whether or not Seinfeld took a black site trip, or not. Episode II hasn’t aired yet.

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About dmusedamerica

I have done a metric ass-ton of things through my personal and professional trek across my nows and thens. I've worked in politics in more than a couple handfuls of US Senate and Congressional districts across the country. I'm a domestic wonk out the box. Through my work in the electoral mafia, I've lived many a parallel career. I tendered outright in 2006, but that's a story inside a story within a tale for none other time or other. For a lot of my years trench-side, I was fortunate to be able to work parallel in a managerial capacity for creatives. Now, I am able to have come out the closet, so to speak. I'm able to be managed instead of owning the wheel. For the first time in my life, I am blessed to let others manage my trip steps and bounds through the briar patch of publishing. Now, Steven D'Mused can harvest his own creative bounty. It's a good day. I journal here at Magnana Mouse to help my old friend John; to share my experience in and knowledge of the dark web of US political electioneering. This is a place for my activist self to write at a podium near the metaphorical ballot box. Hope I am able to add a valuable voice to Magnana Mouse. Thanks for reading and thanks for CARING to read into the truth. Let reality reign and joy flow. Get out the vote, no matter how you do it. Just do it. Fight for your right to party, my brothas and sistas. No rules in street fighting. Blood and balls. There is only winning and dying anymore. WIN.
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2 Responses to You’ve Got the President in your Car. You Aren’t Going Anywhere.

  1. The man that governs a nation and can’t even drive out his front gate.

  2. Deb Teleft says:

    Loving this one. D’Man. Nice Job! 🙂

    The waiting is the hardest part.

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