It’s probably pretty obvious that my mother usually gets what she wants. It’s not because she’s outrageously demanding or petulant if she doesn’t prevail – it’s just that things usually work out to her advantage. You could call it luck, or charm, or even grace.
Hers is the final word in any debate. Just like ol’ E.F. Hutton, when MoC speaks, we listen. Gravitas. Kennedy had it. Reagan had it. MoC’s got it in abundance. She can solve any problem, answer any question and bring peace to the Middle East, all without missing an online poker tournament.
Today I told her to forget about Obama and McCain. We should just appoint MoC president. Then I wondered if I should still call her MoC or if I would have to address her as Madame President and make an appointment to see her.
I present to you the woman who makes the best meatloaf ever, my mom and benevolent ruler of the planet: President O’Mama.