[ WP ] You are President Obama . Scandal after scandal has eroded your credibility . Gridlock is commonplace . The economy is faltering . You have few foreign policy successes and many failures . Write yourself out of this disastrous presidency .

`` Yes, Michelle... no we should go with the tomatoes.'' 
 
 The Oval Office. The most powerful man in the world sits alone in his desk. 
 
 `` Yes, I'm sure they're organic.'' 
 
 It was late. The day's work had been done. After an intense three hour long meeting with his staff over the continued technical failures of healthcare.gov ( from which massive funds were being leached to I.T professionals that the president was quite sure were incompetent ), the disastrous situation in Syria ( something which still kept him up at night ), and the escalating situation in Crimea ( which, if he had to be honest with himself, really just made him feel powerless ), Barack Obama was most certainly done for the day. 
 
 He sighed. 
 
 `` Well, tell Sasha to eat her arugula anyway... okay... okay... alright, get Malia to tell her. She listens to Malia.'' 
 
 Pinching his brow, Barack could not believe even after all the stress of calling Angela about the continued currency crisis in the Eurozone now made more complicated by sanctions on Russia, and discussing the ramifications of the Beijing White Paper on Hong Kong with Kerry ( he still was n't sure if he dozed off halfway through the conversation, but hopefully John would n't know ), even after all the hassles of the day and now here he was discussing his daughter's refusal to eat her veggies. 
 
 ``... detention?!'' 
 
 His slender build, wrapped crisply in a tailored shirt, shot up like a jolt of electricity up his back. 
 
 `` Malia... what?! Drugs?!'' 
 
 The tension in his shoulders was palpable. A flush of red. Shaking fingers. Barry's reserve was legendary, but even now he let his emotions get the better of him. 
 
 ``...'' 
 
 But like the tide, the distraught president slowly slumped back into his seat, like a coiled spring being gently unwound. 
 
 `` Jesus, Michelle, it's just weed! Not a big deal.'' 
 
 Now he looked like a man defeated, overcome with the absurdity of the world. He chuckled. 
 
 `` Listen, we'll talk about it later tonight, okay honey? I stll have some reading to finish.'' 
 
 There was no way he was going to actually finish reading the myriad of reports, documents, briefings, emails and other addendum on his plate. He just did n't want to argue with Michelle about something as insignificant as Malia's youthful experimentation. Of course, he'd have to play the stern father and lecture Malia - if the press found out they'd have a field day - and besides Barack had done his research, being the meticulous scholar he is. He'd be concerned about Malia smoking the Choom before she was 19... after all, even Barry himself did n't really get heavily into it until he was at Pepperdine. 
 
 Heh... the Choom. The Commander-in-Chief, a Constitutional Law Professor, the President of the United States of America... was thinking about cannabis. He thought of simpler days, days of `` interceptions'' and `` total absorption''. Days spent lounging on the beach with white boys and chasing white girls, nothing like the cynicism of his days in Chicago, which would eventually drive him away from such a hedonistic lifestyle in his hopes to actually make a difference. 
 
 He had to laugh. He was quite the arrogant, foolish young man. How anyone back in those days was willing to hang out with him, much less make him their de facto leader, was beyond the now mature, much older Obama. The younger Obama... why, he was just a bogart! He stroked the back of his buzzed scalp, brushing off a light cascade of dandruff and short, white hairs. He had never felt so old. 
 
 Twiddling his pen, Barack reached for his pack of Nicorettes. They were hidden deep in his cabinet - he usually tried to chew Juicy Fruit - trying to wean himself from an addiction carried with him from another time. What he'd do for a cigarette right now! Yet cooler heads prevailed. Barack Obama was a logical man. He could n't bear the thought of leaving Michelle, Malia and Sasha alone, especially if he would be taken from them by something as asinine as lung cancer. And he knew Michelle loathed the habit, found it disgusting. 
 
 But... was n't Malia smoking now, too? He sighed. Forget a cigarette... he could n't even remember what it was like to get high. He used to love it, did n't he? But the decades at Harvard, or out on the streets of Chicago, or in the Senate... But it soon came back to him. Memories of making love at sunset, laughing after being deposited on the shore after a bout of clumsy post-Choom surfing... lazy discussions of activism, Marxism, partisan politics, apartheid... all those conversations were always so *tangential*. It was like playing with ideas. It was very different from the conversations he had now, always methodical, rigorous and urgent. Nothing was ever light or humorous... or, well... not since he did that video with Zach Galifinakis. That was pretty funny. 
 
 After staring at the little chiclet in his palm for about 30 seconds, Obama popped the gum in his mouth and started chewing, and for a moment he was lost back in his college days. 
 
 The soft hum of MSNBC at a lowered volume slowly led him into a trance, and he felt himself drifting. 
 
 `` Barack Obama's approval rating is at an all time low...'' 
 
 The nicotine shot through his gums and into his bloodstream, and, combined with the television's... no, the American people's condemnation of his last six years, he could not help but feel remorse. His eyes snapped open and behind it was a look of irritation. How on top of the world he felt during his first term! The mandate that he had in those first two years! But now after Deepwater Horizon, after the Arab Spring, after fucking Snowden, after... he did n't want to keep thinking about it and closed his eyes tightly again. His thoughts drifted, once again, to more pleasant things... 
 
 `` In other news, Colorado officials have reported windfall profits from...'' 
 
 Things like making fun of the Hangover 3... he actually wrote that joke himself and Zach thought it was great... he was still pretty proud of that burn even months after the fact... 
 
 `` We're reporting live from Denver, let's go to Daniel here-'' 
 
 Or chowing down on some Nasi Goreng with Lolo after Kayaking in Bali on vacation... days spent backpacking in Europe with the Choom gang, or even just bumming out in the mall back in Hawaii, or shooting hoops, back when life was simple... 
 
 `` It's shameful that the president is ignoring state's rights, this is the new prohibition, and it's hypocrisy-'' 
 
 Barack Obama snapped out of his reverie. His back shot up again, nimble still despite all the desk sitting these days as the aging politician still made sure to take care of his health with the occasional bout of basketball. But his shoulders were n't hunched, they sat gently at his sides. He looked calm, a steady look in his eyes, as if he had reached an epiphany. 
 
 `` -even said'That's the point!' Inhaling is the point! But there have been more crackdowns on medical marijuana under the Obama adminis-'' 
 
 Barry reached for the phone. He had a solution now. He deftly shut off the television, and began tapping numbers onto the touchpad screen furiously. 
 
 `` Yeah hello, Denis? Hey, I'm sorry to call you so late. We're going to need to reschedule tomorrow's agenda. I want you to get Harrigan from the DEA, yeah... also get everybody from NIH, I'll email Francis about this in the morning. Look, this is going to come sudden but we're going to go for a strategic policy pivot.... Yeah. No. No, it's domestic... no, I do n't think we'll have trouble from the Republicans. It's a state's rights issue... yep. Yes. Yeah, we're legalizing pot.''
