Presidential Mojo: The 5 Easy Steps to Scoring Like Obama

REMEMBER THAT TIME MARILYN MONROE said that a man with ripped abs and a sweet ride could make a woman do anything? No? That’s because she never said that. What one of pop culture’s most photographed, and most desired figures did say, was, “If you can make a girl laugh, you can make her do anything.”

Too bad no one listened.

Instead, young men were sold a lot of shitty advice about women by some equally shitty men’s magazines. Just how bad was the advice? Consider that a recent poll in the UK found that readers coudn’t tell the difference between the words of a lad mag and the words of a convicted rapist. Not good news if you’re a lady. An not promising if you’re a lad looking for schooling on a little seduction.

However, thanks to excerpts from the diary of a former lover of, that’s right, the president of the muffuggin United States, young men can now look to Obama for some choice dating advice.

Few men have as much swagger as Barack Obama. He runs the world, hunts terrorists, his remote control plane collection is the most badass of any toy collection, and he has a wicked crossover. Plus he cooks and went to college. And now, with the new light of an old flame’s diary, old myths are being shattered by new realities.

We took the time to dissect and deconstruct the finer points of this literary treasure and arrived at what may be some startling new dating tips akin to what Marilyn was trying to communicate to men over 50 years ago.

Tip #1. Read fucking books

A nice back, round shoulders and  robust ass will get you so far. It got cavemen far because it told cave-women you weren’t going to die this winter and that you could probably get the basics done under the sabre-tooth tiger skin blanket and maybe save her ass from maruaders. But those skills are yesteryear. These days, the brain is the new back and a little employability in these recession weary days will go as far as a well rounded prehistoric arse.

Why?

Because it says you don’t live with your mom. Because that big brain of yours got you a job that pays your rent.

How did it get you a job? Because you were able to show you knew shit.

How does one go about knowing shit? The same way the president did – by going to the library to read fucking books.

On the timeline of evolutionary history books are still modern as shit so it’s still cool to have them. On the timeline of your life, books are retro, which also makes them cool. So get some. Get lots of them. What Barack did do when his soon-to-be lover was leaving a party – he went after her and they spoke. Spoke! He didn’t ‘Like’ her status update. He didn’t send her annoying text messages. They sat the fuck down and spoke face to face. About what? Who knows but they spoke for a while and speaking for a while is only possible if you can sustain a conversation and the only way to do that is to know shit. He also had a bean bag chair nearby and this always helps, but that wasn’t even his. It was just in the hall. You can’t count on variables like that. You can count on books. So get a whole bunch of them, and read the fuck out of that shit.

Tip # 2. Leave your fucking house

Only reading shit will make you annoying.  Only doing shit will make you ignorant. See, knowledge is two-fold, you have to read shit, and then do shit. It can’t be one or the other. Now you don’t have to go to Indonesia or Hawaii to get that worldly knowledge and anyone who tells you that you do is as irritating as the person who only reads. Start by just going for a walk in the city. Then go for a walk outside of the city. Then maybe take a trip you can’t afford or sleep in a field or stay up all night at a diner in a town you don’t know but for the love of god and your desire for presidential mojo, stay out of resorts and far away from Spring break trips. Spring break will not make you a better person. Neither will going to Burning Man or Coachella because those are canned experiences. So don’t be fooled. Go places. Because if you do, then you just might go somewhere.

Tip #3. Learn to fucking cook

Newsflash. Women like food. They fucking love that shit so hard it’s difficult to find the words to explain just how much women fucking love food. In the diary of Obama’s young Manhattan lover, we learn that first he cooked, then she took him went to bed. It was, as she writes, inevitable. Inevitable.

Now don’t jump for joy because you think your pasta sauce is going to get you laid. It’s not. Every guy has a pasta sauce. This is not impressive.

Your pasta sauce is the box of chocolates and rose of the romantic world. A disappointing cliche. Be better than that. Learn some recipes. Hint: Bok choy is not a martial arts movie star. Learn about food. And then cook the fuck out of that shit.

Tip #4. Clean your fucking place

No woman wants to walk into a hardwood sport sock. Nowhere, not once, does the president’s college lover write about how messy his apartment was. Because it wasn’t. Sure it smelled like raisins and cigarettes, but was there an ashtray mentioned or food on the floor? No. Sure it smelled like running sweat, but were there socks hanging on chairs? No.

“I open the door, that Barack keeps closed, to his room, and enter into a warm, private space pervaded by a mixture of smells that so strongly speak of his presence, his liveliness, his habits—running sweat, Brut spray deodorant, smoking, eating raisins, sleeping, breathing.”

Why do you think Obama was standing in a sarong with no shirt on in her diary? Because he was doing his fucking laundry that day.

Tip #5. It’s not about the Benjamins

Stop watching music videos. Just… stop it right now. In fact, throw your fucking television out and write a  letter to MTV and tell them they’re ruining your life.

A little poverty goes a long way. What did the young Obama do when he couldn’t afford to heat the New York apartment he was sharing with roommates? Did he watch videos and play X-Box? No.

He went to the library. And then what happened? At the library he read books, by reading books he later accessed his soon to be live-in-lover’s largest sex organ – her brain – which enabled him to talk her into a date later in the week.

Having left his fucking apartment meant having discovered food that expanded beyond pizza and some ace fucking spaghetti sauce, and not having Benjamins meant having to learn to fucking cook for himself, which enabled him to access this woman’s second largest sex organ – her stomach – which then led to them having sex in his clean fucking apartment that smelled like raisins and perfume.

Got it? Good. Now get out there and get your presidential mojo on.

 

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Ask TSJ: My Lady Has Man Friends 
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