The Obama Diaries

by Laura Ingraham

  “You stay in the house. I got business in the yard, young man,” I told him. “You best get out of my way”—and he moved. The agent followed me out to Miche’s garden—and what a shock I got there.

  I was wondering how that garden grew so quickly. I mean, they pull wheelbarrows full of vegetables out of that patch almost every day. Now I know where all the produce comes from.

  When I went to complain to the truck driver about the noise, I looked to my right and there were all these people out in the garden—dozens of Park Service workers bent over their hoes in the dark. Let me tell you, they froze when they saw me. And in the back of the truck: vegetable containers stacked to the roof! And these vegetables were huge! Tomatoes like basketballs! Potatoes, big as Robert Gibbs’s backside. They must do this every week, right before they bring in another group of public school children to “harvest” Miche’s garden. Those poor children will get hernias trying to pull those gargantuan veggies out of the dirt. If they’re smart they’ll make the fat ones carry the produce. Though if Miche has her way, cutting out calories and fats, they’ll all be rail thin!

  Who knows, maybe this will create another national security crisis for her to cure. I can hear her now: “Save the children’s backs!” “Let’s Move Your Spine!” “We need to protect our children’s spinal health!” That girl never could leave well enough alone. Damn, I wish I could get to sleep.

  It isn’t enough to be the most glamorous, smart, wise, and healthy First Lady. Michelle Obama must be first in everything. Even her garden has to be historic. She told CNN’s Larry King on February 9, 2010, “As you know, this year I planted this wonderful garden—the first ever White House garden. . . .”

  I hope Abigail Adams wasn’t listening. Hard as it is to imagine, long before anyone had even thought about Michelle Obama, there were vegetable gardens at the White House. Abigail and John Adams planted the first one in 1800. Andrew Jackson built a hothouse to grow tropical fruit on the site of today’s West Wing. Eleanor Roosevelt planted the famous White House Victory Garden. And even Hillary Clinton tended a veggie garden on the roof of the White House. She and Bill had originally wanted to plant vegetables on the property, but were advised that it would destroy the formality of the White House. With a swing set, an expanded basketball court, and Michelle’s garden, formality is obviously no longer an issue.

  The White House and the First Lady have repeatedly bragged about how inexpensive the vegetable garden was, encouraging citizens to follow their example. They claim that a mere two hundred dollars’ worth of seeds produced the never-ending bounty (and never-receding headline). More than a thousand pounds of produce have been yanked from the White House garden in less than a year’s time. What a bargain! You could probably plant one on your own lawn—particularly if you have several hundred thousand dollars at your disposal to pay for all the National Park Service employees to maintain the crop, a full-time cook like Sam Kass to oversee it, and a battalion of chefs ready to create whatever organic dish you desire. You might also want to allocate some funds for replacement crops and heavy equipment so the Park Service can keep the garden stocked and looking bountiful. Oh, and if you can bring in some unpaid public school labor, that always helps in a pinch.

  Look to your First Lady as an example. She has even turned fieldwork into something chic. Michelle told the New York Times: “There’s nothing really cooler than coming to the White House and harvesting some of the vegetables, and being in the kitchen with Cris and Sam and Bill, and cutting and cooking and actually experiencing the joys of your work.”

  Given the resources required to launch Michelle’s garden project, media coverage was not left to chance. The Los Angeles Times reported that the First Lady’s staff struck a deal with the New York Times, giving them an exclusive first look at the garden and an interview with Michelle. So in March 2009, as a financial crisis gripped the country, a photo of the First Lady in her garden dominated the front page and heralded the arrival of green Razzle Dazzle. It would spawn hundreds of media stories and create a perfect backdrop for Michelle’s “Let’s Move” anti-obesity initiative. Something tells me the full harvest of this garden has yet to be tallied.

  THE DIARY OF FIRST LADY MICHELLE OBAMA

  THE WHITE HOUSE

  April 30, 2009

  I am out killing myself: visiting federal agencies, creating event after event in that garden, sweating like a pack mule, doing the hula hoop to promote fitness—and what do I return home to? On the cover of the first Wall Street Journal Magazine, wearing nothing but a black trench coat and a pair of Cartier earrings in all her haughtiness—was Desiree Rogers! Axelrod brought it over to show Barack and me just before dinner. He was very concerned about the impression this could leave with the voters. You’d think the Journal would have the good taste to have one of us on the cover! My breath literally left me when I saw Desiree’s face staring up at me from the cover of that magazine.

  Who does Ms. Glamorpuss think she is? One minute she’s in New York sitting next to Anna Wintour, the next she’s going to some MTV dinner representing the White House. Valerie dropped that bomb on me a few days ago. She’d better get back to planning parties and picking my wardrobe or she’ll find herself looking for another job. And in this economy, that’s going to be rough.

  BO THE WONDER DOG

  That dog is going to be something else. I am not certain what the girls have in mind, but we’ll think of something.

  —DESIREE ROGERS, VOGUE, FEBRUARY 2009

  If there is one story that epitomizes the Razzle Dazzle of the Obama White House, it is the media frenzy caused by Bo, the First Dog.

  During the campaign, Barack Obama promised his daughters that if he won the White House, he would buy them a dog. This minor political sidebar became a major story for cable, broadcast news, and serious papers of record. For months, the media tried to guess which breed of dog the Obamas might bring to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Then the new president upped the ante by suggesting that it had to be a shelter dog, but one that didn’t exacerbate Malia’s allergies. While two wars raged on and the U.S. economy teetered on the brink of collapse, the U.S. media investigated hypoallergenic dog breeds and speculated about which one would make the White House cut.

  Politico reported that the Washington Post even negotiated exclusive access to the First Pup with the White House. But they were scooped by TMZ.com, where photos of the dog were released first. Finally, in April 2009, the Obama family trotted out “Bo,” their Portuguese water dog (so much for a mutt from the shelter), for all the world to see.

  This particular story and the way the White House controlled it drew the attention of the Los Angeles Times. In an April 20, 2009 story, it revealed how the East and West Wings manage stories and dictate terms to the press:

  Administration officials have even weighed the economics of paparazzi photography, strategically releasing images of the family to diminish the monetary value of unauthorized pictures and give the White House control over how the family is portrayed. In return for access, celebrity news outlets must refuse to publish unauthorized pictures—or risk being cut off by the White House. “If there are no images, then you create a supply-and-demand problem where the supply is none and the demand is huge,” White House Press Secretary Robert Gibbs said. “If there is at least some supply that continues in a way that is respectful to who they are—you drive down the price and the paparazzi is not part of the equation.”

  With Bo there were no mistakes. The White House planned Bo’s coming-out party and the media played along beautifully. The president went so far as to offer evidence that the dog was truly a member of the family. “He’s a star, he’s got star quality,” Obama told the adoring reporters at the party. Over the next few months, media stars from Oprah to Brian Williams were only too happy to pet the First Pooch and pretend that this was all somehow newsworthy. Upon seeing the dog during a Christmas special on ABC, Oprah gushed, “Bo, it’s Bo!” And Brian Williams looked as if he had ne
ver seen a dog before when the First Lady dragged Bo into the frame of his Inside the White House NBC special. Distinguishing just who was the lapdog in the aftermath of these televised encounters is a tall order.

  THE DIARY OF PRESIDENT BARACK OBAMA

  THE WHITE HOUSE

  April 14, 2009

  When you hear that Ted Kennedy’s giving you a dog, you envision something regal—majestic. We never imagined that he would bring us a dog that looked worse than its droppings! Apparently he’s got several versions of this ugly thing at his own house. There’s no accounting for taste, I guess.

  Since we couldn’t return him (or drop him at the pound), Desiree and Miche decided to use the dog for some publicity. So Bo had his coming-out party today. We told the press that the girls named him after some cousin’s cat. (These girls have so many cousins on my side, I figure we’re safe from press scrutiny . . . it’s easier to find the cat than all the cousins! After I leave office, I should write a multivolume book titled “Children from My Father.” That man spread more seed than the Park Service on the South Lawn.)

  When we went out to present Bo to the press this afternoon, Michelle comes up with this line about the dog being named Bo to honor her father. I almost did a double take. I was thinking: How is she going to connect the dots on this one? I’ll be damned if she didn’t come up with a whopper. She told the scribblers that they named the dog Bo because her Daddy’s nickname was Diddley. Bo Diddley, get it? I just smiled. On the way back to the House I told her, “I haven’t heard a story that good since you told them you were planting that vegetable garden to teach kids how to eat.” She punched me in the arm and went on with the girls.

  Back at the office, even Reggie had to ask me why we named the dog Bo. I said, “What do you think?” He kind of made that funny, crooked smile he makes when something dawns on him and said, “I’ll be damned. You made those girls name that ugly dog after you?” I said, “If I’ve got to trip over that thing every day, the least they can do is name it after me. Truthfully, the most redeeming thing about that mangy mutt is his name.” He high-fived me and we headed out to a hair appointment. He’s been calling me Bo all afternoon. I told him if he didn’t stop I was going to start calling him Diddley. There’s nobody like Reggie . . .

  WHO ARE THE PEOPLE IN YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD?

  Sooner or later, the First Lady’s staff had to inject the fashionable mom next door into official policymaking. They couldn’t just have Mrs. Obama announce some initiative one day and send her up to Capitol Hill demanding policy changes the next. They opted for the Razzle Dazzle approach: introduce Michelle Obama to the federal scene, while bolstering her image as First Mom. Turning the negative, angry, anti-American harpy of the campaign into the funsy Mom-in-Chief was hard enough, but to insinuate her into the political machinery of Washington, without drawing a foul, was heavy lifting indeed. Their solution was neighborhood visits.

  On February 2, 2009, the First Lady told employees of the Interior Department, according to the AP, that her neighborhood visits were “a great way for me to get to know our new community and to meet you, our new co-workers and our new neighbors.” It was as if the First Lady had just wandered over to the federal agencies to borrow a cup of sugar and have a chat. The reality was far different.

  Like Mr. Rogers welcoming new puppets to his neighborhood, Michelle Obama began a series of tightly scripted “drop-bys” at government departments, large and small. The First Lady bounced from one federal bureaucracy to another as a sort of goodwill ambassador for the White House. Each visit looked like all the others. Federal employees were herded together, velvet ropes were set in place and then flanked by long-serving bureaucrats, as the First Neighbor addressed her adoring supplicants from a lectern.

  One wonders if any of these career bureaucrats had the sense to stop and ask themselves, “Why is this woman welcoming me to the neighborhood? I’ve been here for twenty-six years and she just blew in from Chicago! Shouldn’t I be welcoming her?!”

  But they probably had no such thought. This is the chief effect of the Razzle Dazzle: logic is crippled and all partakers are rendered speechless by the display. And speechless they were. The other question that nobody bothered to ask is exactly why Michelle Obama needs to “learn, listen” and “know what’s going on” at federal agencies? She wasn’t elected to do anything—and the last time I checked, the government is not running a vo-tech school for the politically ambitious.

  More monarch than First Lady, Michelle continued to visit each federal agency with a straight face, warmly welcoming them to her kingdom—er, neighborhood. The departments of Education, Health and Human Services, Interior, Homeland Security, Agriculture, Veterans Administration, the Environmental Protection Agency, etc., all played host to the First Lady in the early months of the administration.

  Time magazine called Michelle’s shameless bureaucratic ingratiation a “thank-you tour.” Darlene Superville of the AP said that the First Lady’s visits had provided “rare recognition and inspiration for the often neglected” government worker. What about the “often neglected” American taxpayer? In fact, Michelle was only fulfilling her husband’s promise “to make government cool again.” By spreading her celebrity and a little Razzle Dazzle to the bureaucrats, she was also preparing the way for her own political agenda and building bridges of goodwill that she would use in the days ahead.

  LOCK UP THE CHILDREN

  In March 2009, the cable network Nickelodeon unveiled a politically charged animated segment within its programming dedicated to toddlers. The extended spot was an homage to the president with one goal in mind: to inculcate love of Obama among the young, even if much of the audience was in Huggies. The animated Barack Obama bounced around the screen like a hopped-up Johnny Quest, as the childish voiceover lovingly cooed:

  Nickelodeon celebrates President Barack Obama and some of his favorite things. Barack Obama is the first African-American to be president. That is what’s called a historic event. Leading a country is no easy task. So what does he do to relax, you may ask? He loves shrimp linguini and the chili he cooks. He also plays Scrabble, collects comic books. He likes classical and hip-hop and jazz music, too. He always goes shopping for the same type of shoe. He reads lots of books and writes wonderful speeches. He goes on vacation and takes walks on beaches. He loves basketball; it’s his favorite sport. In the White House backyard, he’ll have his own court. He reads bedtime stories to his daughters at night. The president in pajamas? What a sight! Now you know the president better than before. Which leaves just one thing: when he sleeps does he snore?

  Thanks, Nickelodeon, but Michelle Obama had already solved that enduring mystery.

  Meanwhile, on PBS, Michelle Obama crashed onto Sesame Street to deliver a bit of toddler Razzle Dazzle. As a way to push her childhood anti-obesity scheme, she helped Elmo and some children plant vegetable seeds. In the segment, she urges the kids to eat vegetables and (never able to resist a reference to herself) promised that if they followed her advice, they would “grow up big and strong just like me.” I suppose Cookie Monster was forbidden from appearing on the street that day. Though, in an odd pairing, he did appear with Agriculture secretary Tom Vilsack to promote children’s nutrition and exercise. Maybe they should have had Miss Piggy tag along.

  Elmo is practically a cabinet secretary in the Obama White House at this point. In addition to encouraging children to eat well, Health and Human Services secretary Kathleen Sebelius used Elmo to teach children how to protect themselves from the swine flu. On May 22, 2009, they too appeared together.

  The swine flu public service announcements showed Elmo advising tots: “Wash your hands with Elmo. Wash, wash, wash. . . . Sneeze into your arm with Elmo.” With no vaccine in sight, at least Sebelius offered children something to combat the flu.

  On September 8, 2009, the president sans Elmo addressed millions of students on the first day of school. The mere announcement of the speech caused a firestorm among parents who
felt that the White House was forcing their children to listen to the president’s propaganda. Some school boards decided to block the address. A lesson plan issued before the pep talk by the Education Department suggested that school officials instruct students to write an essay describing how they could help support the president.

  Despite the controversy, the president proceeded with his plan. Though the talk was boilerplate “stay in school and study” stuff, he did manage to work in a health-care reform plug. A student in the crowd (a plant) asked him why the country had no universal coverage, and the president was delighted to respond. I’m sure that’s what your kids are up nights thinking about.

  THE DIARY OF WHITE HOUSE SOCIAL SECRETARY

  DESIREE GLAPION ROGERS

  EAST WING

  November 30, 2009

  I only created the most stunning state dinner in American history. (No small feat, considering that we were dealing with the Indian head of state. You try planning a party around a country known only for its street urchins and curry!) Who else could have perfectly balanced Bollywood, Hollywood, and Barackwood! Who else would have thought to seat Brian Williams, Bobby Jindal, and the cast of Slumdog Millionaire at the same table? I ask you.

  But I suppose all this glamour, beauty, art, and wonder comes at a price. Oh, the heavy cost of civilizing America.

  Now I stand accused. Like my ancestor, Marie Laveau (the so–called voodoo queen of New Orleans), I now understand that bringing magic to the masses can take a heavy toll. After remaking a nobody from Hawaii into the president of the United States . . . after turning a spiteful woman with all the fashion sense of Al Roker into the most celebrated First Lady of all time . . . this is the thanks I get?! Desiree stands accused. Desiree is the petal condemned to fall so that the tree may survive . . . But this petal ain’t falling, sugar.