Barnes Burning

Welcome To My Tearful, Confessional Press Conference

Hello and welcome to members of the media, my political colleagues, employees of The Governor's Office, and citizens of this great state. Three years ago I stood before you in a very different fashion as I took the Oath of Office in Capital Square and pledged to work faithfully as a humble public servant in pursuit of the people's business. While it wasn't spoken of directly, there was another type of business I know you were thinking of that day. A type of business that you expected me to carry out as the Governor of a major state. A sensational, scandalous, prurient, naughty, secret, lustful type of business that makes anyone with a functional brain shake their head and guffaw with indignation and gossipy intrigue. I speak of course of extramarital affair business, or kinky group sex business, or coming-out-of-the-closet-and-marrying-a-secret-male-lover business, or any combination of scenarios that involve me dropping my fancy Italian suit trousers in a strange place with a strange person who most definitely isn't my devoted wife of 25 years.

This type of business is so common among our nation's Governors that I know you expect and demand such conduct of me. So I am here today to tell you that I love my wife dearly and have not cheated on her. Not even close. I've been faithful to the covenants of our marriage, and on a slightly personal note, I am completely enraptured by the special sexual and emotional bond that grows stronger between us with every passing day like a sensual flame kindled by love of God Our Father. I am not a low-down scumbag who makes a fleeting dash at covering up deep-seeded insecurities by flinging around in a cheap motel room with some floozy while his security detail makes up preposterous stories about "a solitary hang-gliding session to relax before stressful budget negotiations." I am a monogamist and family man. I have not had an affair. And I apologize, and am very, very sorry for these actions.

On the day of my inauguration, God whispered something to me as we rode the parade route down Central Avenue. He said..."Do not let power and fame destroy your family. Stay true to your faith and continue putting your family first even though it may seem impossible at times." I had to smile, because that was the only thing I wanted in life: honorable service to my fellow man and a loving family. Golly, it sure was great to have The Big Guy In The Sky back me up! But I know my adherence to a simple code of moral conduct leaves something lacking for you. It's blah. It's drab. It totally lacks sizzle and shock value. You probably have friends in other states who refresh CNN.com on their lunch break to find their Governor, yet again, collapsing on a podium at a press conference as he exposes some sinful and shame-riddled sex act into the media glare like a seeping wound.

I know you've come to anticipate that elected officials will be philandering hypocrites who airily talk about concepts like family values and the sanctity of marriage out of one side of their mouth, while plowing full steam behind the scenes into risky, even dangerous trysts with their friend's spouses, secret mistresses, high-end call girls, and the occasional petting zoo animal. After all, this is what politicians do in our modern world: weird stuff in the bedroom that even the creators of South Park would have a tough time dreaming up. I apologize for upending that stereotype.

I wish I stood here today with better, edgier news. I know you'd have a lot more to talk about around the dinner table if I was liaising with a cocktail waitress named Tammi in my free time instead of fishing with my son, organizing girl scout raffles, and scribbling love haikus for the beautiful woman I've called Mrs. Sweetie Pie for a quarter of a century. I know you'd prefer that I seek validation as an alpha male by wearing a disguise and going on spring break to South Padre Island to pick up college girls half my age...and then having that scandal explode like a neutron bomb when the Daily Examiner intercepts a drunken email written on a state-issued Blackberry to my Chief of Staff bragging about my exploits. Sorry folks, I'm just not that guy. I feel validated as a man by making a hot cup of tea for my wife when she has the sniffles, that's just who I am.

In closing, I know you're disappointed because you're already packing up the cameras and flashbulbs. This press conference won't even be mentioned on the local news. But that's not why I'm crying. These are tears of joy for my family, and for the greater family that we're all a part of under the loving gaze of our Creator. While you're more likely to find me with a potato sack around my ankles at a Father/Daughter picnic than with my pants around my ankles in a State House janitor's closet, that doesn't change the fact that I always have your best interest in mind with every action I take. I apologize for not being the scandal-ridden buffoon you thought you elected. I apologize for being a good man, I know it's boring as all heck.

Mr. Obama, Lemme Tell You...Taxes Can Be Taxing

Dear Mr. President,

I know your first few weeks as Commander In Chief haven't been a cupcake eating convention. Your first appetizer from the buffet of national ridiculousness has been an economy nosediving like U.S. Airways Flight 1549 into the Hudson. Thing is, we don't exactly have Capt. Chesley Sullenberger (personally, I prefer to call him "Sully") in the cockpit to ease us into a safe landing. This might be because Sully's booked for five straight nights on Larry King Live. But the more probable explanation is that for the last five years our financial institutions have been run by people with job titles like Executive Director, Devious Financial Mathematics. That said, before it's all said and done, I have no doubt that Sully and Larry King will be blood brothers, or maybe even conjoined twins. Somewhere in the wilds of the Internet, I bet there’s a picture of Larry climbing onto the wing of the floating Flight 1549 to get the first interviews with Sully and his crew.

Of course there’s also the array of wars across the globe that aren't going our way. It reminds me of a teenager at summer camp getting in way over his head by simultaneously playing three or four games of Risk against his fellow campers. What's that? Did I just compare Our Country ‘Tis Of Thee to a lanky, brace-faced 14-year-old boy? Uh, yeah. Sorry. Bad analogy.

Anyhow, your most recent kerfuffle stems from the tax issues some of the wealthy, influential, and powerful people appointed to your administration have run into. Basically, we've all learned that the best way to become wealthy, influential, and powerful in the first place is to simply not pay a chunk of taxes each year. Who knew?! You'd think that Suze Orman would have passed along this tip at some point.

Given this new culture of tax relief, and given that we're approaching the heart of tax season, now seems an appropriate time to get ahead of the curve and highlight a few tax "misunderstandings" of my own. I’m being totally upfront about these unfortunate circumstances, and to go the extra mile, I’m going to throw in a dash of genuine sorrow and a dribble or two of relatively lukewarm regret. Again, I’ll underscore and double-bold the unfortunate nature of these sad (not bad!) fiduciary oversights. Really, the word I keep coming back to is “unfortunate.” Unfortunate. There, that should do it.

Without belaboring the point, here’s an executive summary of some mild tax errors that I’m totally not responsible for, but that you, as the de facto Boss of The IRS, may want to briefly scan before tossing them into the garbage and wiping them from your memory like a blank flash drive that you just picked off the shelf at Staples.

1996 - Not only did I fail to pay taxes on tips I made as a waiter at Freddy's Fried Fish Joint...I actually wouldn’t even classify them as take home pay since the funds never reached that particular destination. Instead, I fed my tips directly into the Golden Tee and Pop A Shot in the back.

1997 – Some people fail to pay taxes on a housekeeper. And some people look at their yearly wages and wonder if they actually spent the year working as one and somehow didn’t realize it.

1999 – Hey, Prince told us to party like it was 1999! So I did. I like to think that I put the “social” back into social security that year. Instead of contributing to an underfunded government albatross that will go kaput decades before I reach 65, I bought 78 rounds of lemon drop shots.

2001 – Instead of mailing in a tax return, I just photocopied my middle finger and sent that along for IRS review.

2002 – You know that murky provision about deducting gambling losses that everyone talks about, but nobody really understands? Yeah, I unilaterally took a gamble and enacted it.

2003 – The IRS was understandably perplexed by the ballooning roster of dependents who kept showing up on my 1040 and trust me, I’m still trying to sort it out myself. Think about how confusing it is for me! NBA ballers and John and Kate Plus 8 can relate.

2004 – I felt like it was more appropriate to file as an Independent Contractor, since most of my at-work activity consisted of hiding from boss in my cube and fiddling around on YouTube. Talk about solitary confinement.

2007 – I noticed that the blind get a pretty decent tax break. And based on the amount of time I spent snoozing on my couch in front of the TV in 2007, I assure you that I was gazing into thick blackness more often than not.

There you have it Mr. President. I cannot tell a lie. While this process of admitting my sins of omission hasn’t been easy, I’m thankful for the opportunity to serve my country by listing every cheap shortcut and dubious itemized deduction in the book. We’re all Americans. United we stand. Hope for hope. Our way of life. Let freedom ring. And while you’re at it….would you mind looking the other way?