Oh, Where Have You Been, My Brown-eyed Son?

I recently realized that I had abdicated comedy gold by failing to comment on the going's on of President Obama's imaginary son. You may remember that we first met him when the President was practicing racial divisiveness after the death of Trayvon Martin. Obama, implying that Martin was killed because of the color of his skin, noted, "If I had a son, he'd look like Trayvon."

We met his imaginary son later in a comment about big-time sports, a topic Obama seems to enjoy opining on, as opposed to public policy. Concerned about the NFL's record on concussions, Obama stated, "if I had a son, I’d have to think long and hard before I let him play football." This statement is ridiculous on its face. If President Obama had a son, I think it's obvious that the First Lady would make the decision regarding whether he would play football.

I believe the American public deserves to know more about the President's imaginary son. One of the great benefits of having an imaginary member of the First Family is that the President isn't the only one who can fabricate stories about his exploits. I can make them up as well as anyone. The following story details the recent exploits of the fictional, though still very real in terms of ability to set a political narrative, Herb Obama.

I was shocked to see Herb Obama snuck out of the White House last Saturday . It is incredibly easy for him to elude the Secret Service, being imaginary and all. Where did he turn up? At the Mayweather/Pacquiao fight. I was more surprised to find the first ever photo of Herb Obama:

Yes, that is Herb Obama in the Burger King suit. There is a lot wrong with this picture. Does he not care about Mayweather's history of domestic violence? Why is he disguised as the Burger King? And why did he appear with Justin Beiber?

The report gets worse. It seems that ol' Herb made out with none other than Miley Cyrus at the after party. Fortunately, the Secret Service soon caught up to him. After a thorough delousing, he was sent back to the confines of the President's imagination.