Madame President

The President of the United States, inadvertently briefed on the personal lives of her predecessors by the Secretary of State, discovered that most of her antecedents had played golf.

From her perspective, chasing a tiny ball around a manicured golf course was a socialist and probably pansy comedown from wasting a wild animal with an automatic weapon from Marine One, the Presidential helicopter.

Madame President nevertheless decided something had to be done because other world leaders declined politely to play with her, out of deference to the gravitas of her office. Plus, they didn't like her.

After six weeks of lessons--this was just prior to the invasion of Mexico--Madame President could still barely get the ball off the tee.

The Presidential pro, at the end of his tether and needing results badly or else, finally blurted: "Madame President, there's only one technique that I can think of that will improve your game beyond the level of excellence you have already achieved. But please, Madame President, no matter how strange my instructions may sound, if you follow this method I can guarantee even greater improvement."

"I want you to hold the club like your husband's penis and hit the ball. I hope you are not offended."

"No problem, Frank" replied Madame President, who subliminally realized her game was not exactly, as it were, up to par.

She followed the pro's instructions exactly and, lo and behold, the ball screamed straight and true 300 yards straight down the fairway.

Madame President was ecstatic.

"I knew it would work," said the pro. "That was awesome!"

He stared dumbstruck as the ball rolled to a stop, perfectly placed.

"Now let's try it taking the club out of your mouth."

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