Once upon a time there was a young boy named Obama. He lived on a farm and even though he was just a boy he was in charge of the farm. No one really knew how he got there or why he was in charge but he was, to be sure. Some say it was due to the magic of the barnyard that got him there and that young Obama learned his trade by shoveling out the barnyard. But others felt that he was just a natural at shoveling and that it is how he somehow convinced all the people at the farm to let him be in charge (but that is the story of another fairy tale.)
One day young Obama found these magic beans. A voice from the sky told him that if he planted these beans it would grow jobs for all the people who lived around the great big farm. He wasn’t sure how this could work but if the voice told him it was true he knew it must be.
So young Obama knew he had to rely greatly on his shoveling skills to plant these beans. He would also need the help of the 535 farmhands that worked on the farm to plant these beans. Fortunately, a prerequisite for being a farmhand was to be extra good at shoveling, in many cases that was their only skill. Young Obama also thought of another farmhand named Joe and maybe Joe could help. He ran out to find Joe but when he saw him he was just sitting on a pile of hay with a piece of grass between his teeth and staring off into space. Young Obama thought Joe was daydreaming about how one day he would be in charge and young Obama knew that Joe was not going to be of much help. As a side note, young Obama heard a noise on the other side of the stack of hay that sounded like grunting. He went to check it out but it was just the guy who used to run the farm, Bill, with a young woman from town rolling around together. Young Obama smiled but he knew he had no time to watch this, he had to get these magic beans planted or he wouldn’t be running the farm for very much longer.
Young Obama went to find old Harry. He was in charge of the farmhands and he was very good at shoveling and getting others to shovel. The only problem was that there were farmhands that worked only on the left side of the farm and others that worked only on the right side of the farm and they would always argue with each other. They never wanted to work together. This was a problem for young Obama.
Young Obama also called upon another of the main farmhands, a lady named Nancy. She was excellent at shoveling but it seemed that sometimes she shoveled the holes so deeply that they were too difficult to get out of. Not only that, young Obama had a hard time looking at Nancy because her face seemed plastic and she never was able to smile except through great effort. This problem of getting the beans planted was getting more and more difficult and time was becoming a factor. If these beans didn’t get planted soon young Obama’s friends on the left side of the farm were going to be replaced by new farmhands. (What young Obama didn’t realize was that it would be just a new set of shovelers shoveling the same old stuff, but he was still mighty concerned.)
Suddenly a bright idea came to young Obama. It didn’t matter how well the beans would grow into jobs if he hired bean counters who used calculators with a held down seven. In that way no matter what number was punched into the calculator it would always be multiplied by seven and he would look good no matter what. Problem solved.
So, somehow young Obama got the farmhands to plant the beans but it was done sloppily and without much forethought and the beans grew a little but they were not healthy, robust beans and they didn’t make many jobs as the voice from the sky had promised. But young Obama always did have a backup plan in case the magic beans failed him. He could always blame that big bush that was in the middle of the field, saying that it had poisoned his beans. And so he did. And young Obama lived happily ever after (at least for the next 3 years.)
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