"We’ve kinda suspected it before, but President Obama genuinely gives no fucks at this point. He is fuck devoid. Fuck deficient. Fuck deprived. Fuck destitute. His cupboard of fucks is barren; his tank of fucks has been depleted. You know how, on cloudy nights, you might look up into the vast and endless sky and not find any stars? The same thing would happen if you looked at Obama and searched for fucks. And this, this total absence of fucks, is where pop off came from."
Remember this from last year, when President Obama said something about folks wanting to pop off, and I wrote that he'd entered the fuck challenged stage of his term in office? And he kept doing things to reinforce this idea, convincing us that he left his last fuck in El Segundo?
Well, it looks like I was (slightly) wrong. President Obama isn't completely fuck poor. He still, apparently, possesses quite a few fucks. But, as the Nighttime version of this summer's #PotusPlaylist proves, he's redirected all of those fucks to the bedroom.
Seriously, look at some of those songs on it. Do You Feel Me? Lady?? Say Mothafuckin Yes??? I Get Lonely???? I'd bet if you collected every "I'm Totally Getting Some Cheeks Tonight" mixtape made within the last 25 years, at least one of these songs would be on 97% of them. Corrine Bailey Rae, whose music makes me want to plant flowers and shit just so I can fuck on them, is on this damn album. Fiona Fucking Apple, whose voice makes me clutch pearls that aint even on my neck, is on this damn album. Ledisi? Billie? Miles? Meth? No wonder Malia is taking break years and smoking weed at festivals and "twerking" and Sasha is working at Red Lobster. They're just doing whatever the hell they can to get out of the house because they're tired of their parents vibrating the walls. And then walking around all awkwardly and embarrassingly afterwards and asking the girls if they want "some eggs and shit."
Damn. I'm going to miss them.