Mr. President: We have never had the pleasure of meeting, nor would you likely recognize my name should it come up in conversation, casual or otherwise. Our politics could not be more different. In short, we have little in common, except one unfortunate fact.
We both like peanut butter and honey sandwiches.
Ever since I found out that the gooey, nutty, and sweet concoction that is a peanut butter and honey sandwich is one of your favorite sandwiches, I think about you every time I make one for myself.
This morning, for instance, as I smeared the peanut butter on a slice of sourdough bread, I wondered if you had enjoyed a similar sandwich in the recent past. As I drizzled the honey on another slice of bread, I pondered whether you were planning on having a similar sandwich after some sort of formal state dinner. Do you get the White House kitchen to whip up a plate of the sandwiches for Cabinet meetings? Is that what you spent the month of August eating while you were at your ranch?
Ordinarily, it wouldn’t bother me to learn that someone in the media spotlight liked one of the same foods as I do. In fact, chances are good that the information wouldn’t even stick around in my head very long.
However, because you and I have so little in common, that little tidbit really stuck with me. We have almost nothing in common beyond the fact that we are both Americans and male. I cannot advocate or tolerate most of your policies. You probably could not tolerate or advocate most of my policies were our positions reversed. And yet, we both like PB and H sandwiches.
Quite frankly, I’m tired of thinking about you every time I cobble together a sandwich.
There are so many foods I don’t like in the world. Why couldn’t you like one of them? Ever thought of taking up rabid pickle consumption? I really don’t like pickles so it wouldn’t bother me if you developed a real jonesing for them. How about a difficult and time-consuming food? You’re much richer than I am, and currently you have the White House kitchen at your disposal, so choosing a food that required extensive lists of ingredients and lots of preparation time shouldn’t be problem for you. If I woke up tomorrow and decided that Peking Duck was my new favorite food, I’d be in trouble. If you woke up tomorrow and decided the same thing, a simple phone call to any one of your numerous attendants would solve your problem.
While I can’t exactlly ask you to change your favorite food, I can ask that you keep your food preferences out of the media from now on. That should keep everyone happy and avoid similar situations from arising.