My Joe Biden Fantasy

I slipped away from this nightmarish election campaign into a delicious dream the other evening. I dreamed that, when Joe Biden gets up to reset his beleaguered presidency at the State of the Union address, he gives this astonishing speech:

Mr. Speaker. Man, Mike Johnson was a nobody just weeks ago — now he’s Neville Chamberlain. Madam Vice President. Oy.

Our first lady — you hottie! And our second gentleman. Members of Congress, leaders of our military, justices of the Supreme Court. And you, my fellow Americans.

My report is this: The state of my mental competency is strong. And the union’s OK, too.

You think I’m forgetful? Take a look at the other guy — he can’t even remember who Nancy Pelosi is, and that gal is the best speaker in United States history! You know what I remember? I remember how to lift people up, not tear them down and pit them against one another. I remember how to tell the truth when my lips move.

I may be 81, but it’s not about your chronological age. It’s about how old your ideas are. Donald Trump wants to yank us back on women’s rights, the environment, mail-in voting — actually, all voting. He’s undermining NATO, the strongest alliance ever. I’m trying to build a high-speed train from Vegas to L.A., baby!

I remember very well that, three years ago, our economy was reeling. Our administration has created nearly 15 million jobs and helped fund 46,000 infrastructure projects. Unemployment has been under 4 percent, and the inflation rate has gone down.

My boy Hunter made mincemeat out of the House Republicans. His Irish was up, and he told those clowns there was no corruption on my part. I see you down there, Matt Gaetz, you lying, dog-faced pony soldier! When you tried to quiz Hunter about his drug use, he made quick work of you. Pot calling kettle! How could you give Hunter a hard time when you’re under investigation by the House Ethics Committee for sexual misconduct and using illicit drugs? Lots of luck with that, man!

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