Presidents have lots of meetings. The other day I had to go to a MENSA meeting. They didn’t let me inside, but there were lots of smart dudes in the parking lot. I stared at the sun for a while, did a very tricky Parade crossword puzzle [hint for 19 down: The sixteenth president who also freed the slaves is “Michael (space) S (space) Roth”], then did a few puzzles in my Black Belt Sudoku book, and figured out a riddle (his horse is named Friday). I quickly realized that I was the smartest guy in the parking lot, which is a lot like being the most attractive guy at the party. It’s really flattering at first, but when it’s your life – and between you and me, I’m fucking gorgeous – it’s tiring.

So, I got into my hybrid hovercraft, also known as a Buick Century, powered by my encyclopedic knowledge of 19th century German philosophy (I inserted a forty page dissertation on Hegel into the gas tank) and gasoline ($2,000 worth of Super ++ because I’m worth it), and drove to my next meeting. I had arranged for a round table discussion with Joseph Stalin and Franklin Delano Roosevelt at the local DZ (for those culturally un-hip, “Discovery Zone”). The assistant manager directed me to the Presidential Ballroom where my colleagues and I would discuss current finances, divestment, and foppish dandyhood.

At first I was a bit weary about the Ballroom, but when the young manager opened up the door I knew that it was the room for us. I hadn’t seen so many balls pour out of one place since I saw my mouth in the mirror during the 1970s [Ed.: this is not to imply that Michael Roth is, or has ever been, gay, but rather his attendance at Wesleyan coincided with the great teabagging fad of the 1970s]. Unfortunately, neither Joe or F. could make it, but that doesn’t matter. I got enough tickets to purchase some Yikes! Pencils and went merrily on my way.

Then it was time for final meeting of the week (I only work on Sundays because I fucking hate Jesus), a meeting with the Wesleyan Student Assembly. There were some really icky and boring questions, but I made them interesting by blowing kisses to my reflection in the large windows and talking about my favorite movies. I am teaching a film class next semester on all the movies that I was an extra in: I played Godot in the film version of “Waiting for Godot,” a ghost in “Ghost,” and passenger #2 on the bus in Rosie O’Donnell’s “Riding the Bus with My Sister,” just to name a few. Anyways, it was all going fine until I saw some girl filming me. I mean, she was filming the present on film; not the past! Who do you think I am, McDreamy? Because I am.

Love Always,
Mikey