“We need to portray Romney as a weirdo they can’t trust,” President Obama said in his strategy meeting. “That way, everyone will want to keep the country in my steady hands; they can see how well I putt.”

“We have a problem, though,” David Axelrod said. “Some weird stuff has come up about your past.”

Obama rolled his eyes. “This isn’t about that time I shot and ate a Chinaman, is it? They can’t dredge that up since I was only twenty-four at the time. And it’s not like something I’d normally do because I was high on coke. And nowadays, I lock myself in a room before doing blow.”

“No, it’s not that,” Axelrod said.

“Is this about Jeremiah Wright, then? My association with him shows I’m religious just like all those invisible sky fairy worshipers in the fly over states. I even participated in church activities like when I drove around with Wright and beat up white kids. I didn’t quite get the point of it, but I don’t really understand religion. What do we have against Satan again?”

“No, it’s not about that,” Axelrod said.

Obama sighed. “They’re not bringing up William Ayers again, are they? I barely knew the guy and hardly any of the bombs I made for him successfully went off.”

“No, that’s not it either.”

“Did they find my second wife? Romney can’t make an issue of that because his great-grandfather was a polygamist. And so what if she’s in al Qaeda; they’re hardly a threat anymore.”

“No not that. Here, I’ll show you.”

Axelrod turned on the TV. On screen was Mitt Romney talking to the press. “It’s come to my attention that Barack Obama has eaten dogs. While I’ve never personally met someone in the middle class, I’ve been credibly informed they don’t like it when people eat dogs. If I owned a dog as a child, I’d never have eaten him. Of course, as a rich person, my pet was instead a pygmy albino gorilla named Reginald. He did eat a dog, and I was very cross at him for it and locked him in his gorilla pen all night and didn’t give him the vintage Merlot he signed for.”

“What?” Obama exclaimed. “They’re bringing that up?! But I was only six… when I started. And we’re really careful to make sure each replacement Bo looks just like the last.”

“Still,” Axelrod said, “it makes you seem a little weird.”

“Romney can’t portray me as weird! He’s the weird one! He’s a Mormon, which means he wears magic underwear… which is way different than the cursed underwear I wear and am unable to take off.”

“Have you tried taking them off?”

“I TOLD YOU THEY’RE CURSED!” Obama screamed. “Anyway, the public will like me again when I finally get them the unicorns I promised them in my 2008 campaign. When do we show the public the breeding pair we found?”

“Um… don’t you remember? You killed and ate them.”

Obama thought for a moment. “No, I don’t remember. We really need better locks on my recreation room.”

“Anyway, the dog-eating isn’t all bad.” Axelrod handed Obama a memo. “When we polled who people like more, a dog-eater or the person responsible for the current state of the economy, the dog-eater polled much better. It might be better to keep people focused on that than on other things.”

Obama nodded. “Then I will do nothing but publicly eat dogs until the election.”

“And maybe start eating live kittens at some point if people begin to lose interest.”

“Consider it done!” Obama stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to wind down. Get the locks ready.”
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[Click for more “Obama Ate a Dog” humor]

UPDATE: linked by Darth Chipmunk