What did Barry serve Mitt for lunch? I’m hoping it was decomposed crow on a pile of bitter greens.

Maybe, by the time this gets posted, somebody will have something specific to say about who said what to whom at the White House lunch between President Barack Obama and Willard (aka “Mitt”) Romney.

As of 2:30 p.m., November 29, 2030, the AP was shoveling forkfuls of meaningless drivel concerning that lunch onto the Internet. The color of the SUV Romney arrived in. Which door he got out of. In other words, stuff that you really really need to know if you're a total airhead.

Meanwhile, I’m exercising my First Amendment right to speculate, stir pots, and think wishfully.

R: Good to see you, Mr. President.

O: Don’t even bother to shake hands. Have a seat. Why are you frowning?

R: The most upsetting thing happened on the way to the dining room. I stopped in a bathroom and one of your interns peed on my shoes.

O: Damn it! I’m going to have to get rid of that useless kid. He can’t do anything right. I specifically told him to pee on your pants legs.

R: Oh, you’ve got a terrific sense of humor, Mr. President. I’ll have to tell that one to Tag.

O: What is it with your family and those idiotic hard-consonant one-syllable names? Mitt, Tag, what’s next? A grandson named Shmuck?

R: That’s another good one, Mr. President! Mind if I write that down? 

O: Yeah, please make all the notes you want. That way, maybe you can tell a story accurately for a change.

R: Well Mr. President, let me get right down to brass tacks.

O: If that dumb intern kid got around to doing all his chores this morning, there should be a few on your chair.

R: What? Ow! Oh.

R: You forgot to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Presodent.’ Don’t bother now. You’re welcome.

R: Mr. President, do you want me for Secretary of Commerce or Secretary of State?

O: I want you for libel and slander, all during the election campaign.

R: Mr. President, you’re a great kidder. But let me tell you why I’d be great for the State Department. First of all, I’ve been a lifelong Democrat….

O: And I’m a Swiss battleship.

R: Golly, I never realized that, Mr. President. Anyway, I dealt with all those foreign types while I was saving the Salt Lake City Olympics, and heck, they all speak English these days anyway. I know how to get along with them. Or make me Secretary of the Treasury. I know how to count money.

O: Who said I was gonna give you a cabinet job?

R: There’s been speculation, Mr. President.

O: The Cabinet’s full, but I may have an opening for an assistant consul general in Botswana, if you’re really interested.

R: I was hoping for something a bit more important.

O: And I was hoping for a V8. Oh, here come the drinks. We spiked yours with lemon juice and a dash of Tabasco sauce. Bottoms up!

R: Uh! Oops.

O: I forgot to tell you. Yours is in a dribble glass.

R: What a really great joke, Mr. President! Oh, the press has also been saying you’re going to solicit my advice. I'd be happy to help.

O: Yeah, that’s right.  How did you manage to lie so consistently with a straight face, all through the campaign?

R: I never lied, Mr. President. I consistently supported your candidacy, even when that took considerable courage.

O: Well, here comes your lunch. Enjoy it, and feel free to sit here as long as you like. I have to get back to the Oval Office.

R: Oh boy! Stuffed pheasant!

O: If you say so.