Veritably, Taylor.

coketalk:

I had a dream last night that I was smoking a joint with President Obama. He had a red bicycle, a beach cruiser that you rent for the day on the Venice Boardwalk, and he was young, just like those pictures of him in college with the straw hat and the cool attitude.

We sat together in the grass by the bicycle, and we each took a long drag, and I asked him, “Seriously, dude. Why the fuck don’t you make this shit legal?”

He put a finger to his lips as if to say, “Shhh.” Then he grinned like the Cheshire Cat, and I suddenly realized that he was telepathically communicating with me. Without moving his lips, I heard him speak two simple words: second term.

Second term, indeed.