..."I'll ... I'll be out shortly." He sat back in the chair after they closed the door, hanging on to the armrests, his head pounding. The cheerleaders had ignored him, left the TV on, and there was Barry ... the president grinning away while he clapped his hands, and Michelle, as usual, looking like she wanted to slap somebody, anybody.

Nothing on the tube but those two, and nothing on radio but Air America from sea to shining sea, the bad-news-and-it's-your-fault radio network. Some girl in Salt Lake fell and skinned her knee, the American people and their past leaders had failed her, past leaders meaning him, Willie Boy, Elvis, the Big Him. Like he should have installed marshmallow sidewalks or given away bubble wrap pants. He absently rubbed the I'm Sorry button in his lapel. Well, he might be wearing the button, but he wasn't sorry.

Rush Limbaugh wasn't sorry either. After he got bounced off the U.S. airwaves, Rush had set up a pirate station in the Bahamas, a real blowtorch, powerful enough to reach across the country. It had been a problem for a while, then Barry had stationed the coast guard up and down the whole east coast to jam the broadcasts. Cost a lot of money, but there was plenty now since Barry cut the defense budget by 2/3 after the Iranians promised to play nice. Must be nice to be able to get that through congress...