As the majestic music died down, the president stepped to podium. Meanwhile, his two young speechwriters huddled in the wings, anxious for their first speech to be given life. With waves and his politician’s smile, the president quieted the crowd.

In smooth, even tones he began, just as they’d rehearsed, “I’d like to talk right down to Earth in a language that everbody here can easily understand about immigration…”

“Great start there, Chaz,” one writer whispered to the other.

“Thanks Sid,” came the quiet answer.

“What we need to understand,” the president continued, “is that my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, to turn a phrase. The temptation for Mr. and Mrs. American as they look at these foreign lands, well, they’re like, it’s better than yours. Us and them. Ours and theirs. We need…”

Chaz sighed, “Speech writing ain’t what it used to be, Sid.”

“Tell me about it. This pandering nonsense is killing me. Ooh, here comes my favorite part.”

“As put by the venerable Kanye West…”