the road
12
When Obama’s out of the country, Joe’s just BIDEN TIME…
In this exclusive extract of a day in the life of Joe Biden, the Big O is on the road, but Joe’s off the rails! ––––––– Ella Bennett –––––––
0530hours. Awakes upon the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in denim cut-offs, aviator sunglasses and no shirt. He is surrounded by empty bottles of eye drops.
another week in office. Today Obama is away on official business, so Joe will have the brownies shipped to his exact location.
0550hours. Amtrak to Wilmington, Delaware. Hits the gym. Eats like, three apples.
1130hours. Call to Russia discussing North Korean situation:
0730hours. Amtrak back to Washington DC.
“You can drop the ‘vice’ part, Medvedev. Today, Joe’s in charge round here. Hey! Why d’you think he’s called Kim Jong Il and not Kim Jong Queasy? Kim Jong Sick? [extended silence whilst Joe chuckles to him self amiably.] H…hello?”
0905hours. Enters late into key administration officials meeting, half-eaten bowl of porridge in hand. “Oats calm me down,” he says. Gibbs discusses the latest polls and news of Afghanistan whilst Joe makes eye contact with a suspicious looking bird outside. 0935hours. Gives former CIA director, soon to be Secretary of Defence, Leon Panetta a tour of the West Wing. “This is the Egg Room – I call it that cos it’s oval, like an egg! Usually I’m not allowed in here but cos B’s away, today I can. Last time I messed up all these papers about the budget. Let me ask you something: if we’re on a budget, how come that list is so long?” 1045hours. Takes meeting with White House Historical Preservation Society re: replacing portrait of Walter Mondale with a drawing he did of a train he was on earlier that day. 1100hours. Every Tuesday of the week, Joe usually takes brownies into B’s Egg Room to celebrate yet
1200hours. Contemplates his college varsity football team days. Has hot dog for lunch on White House lawn then starts impromptu super soaker fight with Rahm Emanuel. Emanuel grumpy that Joe’s habit of hiding super soakers throughout the White House in strategic locations has led to the ruin of his fifth BlackBerry this year. 1300hours. Girl scouts come round selling cookies. “I dunno…Big O told me not to make any big decisions, or use the White House fax machine…but he’s not here to stop me!” He slams the door in the scouts’ faces and sneaks back to the Egg Room to work on the $53 billion plan for a high speed rail across America, details of which he attempts to fax to his son across town. 1400hours. Gives commencement address at West Point in exchange for a calendar advertising ride-on lawn mowers. He wings it because the teleprompter David Axelrod sends cartoons to keep Joe looking forward. 1500hours. After a scuffle involving Joe, a train schedule and two cadets, Joe leaves West Point with badly singed eyebrows. Is cheered up by strangely accurate comparison offered by witty cadet: Obama is Bart Simpson, Biden is Milhouse. This is why Joe’s always hiding in the shrubs while B’s wowing everyone with his bad-ass reformin’ and terrorist-killin’ cred. 1530hours. Air Force One lands. Joe is trying to wipe jam off Healthcare Reform document but accidentally erases section covering accidental elbowings to the face.
Illustration by Ena Tulic
1600hours. B enters Oval office. Joe raps: “Big O is back
in his egg room, / he be returnin’ not a moment too soon! / Hey Big O why you just standing there? / Come see what I changed in healthcare! Break it down!” Joe then proceeds to break it down. B sighs and reaches for the broom. “I’m tired of having to do this, Joe.” 1615hours. Joe is finished funking through all the dining areas of the White House, even interrupting Hillary Clinton whilst she savours a roast autumn vegetable salad in the Gold Room whilst perusing hardware catalogues. 1800hours. B shows up midway through Joe’s late afternoon/early evening nap. “Hey there, Joe. Hope today didn’t take too much out of you!” Joe accepts B’s proffered glass of milk, takes a long sip and sighs. “I don’t know how you do it, B. It seemed like no one wanted to get wasted on Manhattans and discuss my anti-sexual assault initiative in the White House sauna.” “Time to head back, Joe. To your office. The one adjacent to mine.” 2340hours. Lowlight. Joe is the Vice Presidential Office, hating himself for not including a clause in the Auto Industry bailout that forbids the manufacturing of fourwheel drive vans. He wonders, “what to do with my Vice Presidency next?” Joe gazes around the room at the previous Vice Presidents that have done somewhat of a job before him. Al Gore’s bust stares back at him, but only now does Joe realise that Al Gore is whole, not merely a bust. “Gore? How…long have you been here?” Gore’s dusty lips move to speak. “11 years.” “But…I’ve pinned memos to your forehead!” Says Joe, backing away. “Better than what Cheney used my mouth for…” Gore looks away, shame burning inside him like mercury in an energy-efficient light bulb. 0000hours. Night-night, Joe.
"Stand up, Chuck, let 'em see ya." – Joe Biden, to Missouri state Sen. Chuck Graham, who is in a wheelchair, Columbia, Missouri, Sept. 12, 2008