Okay, I know nothing is more tedious than somebody talking about their dreams, but I had one last night that I still haven’t managed to shake off, even after being up for several hours, so I’m afraid I’m about to become one of those boring people who blather on about their dreams as if they actually matter to anyone but the person doing the blathering. Sorry, everyone, but I’ve just got to get this out of my head.

I dreamed I was at some kind of townhall meeting where President Obama was appearing in person. It was a small and intimate gathering where everyone was guaranteed up-close-and-personal contact with him, and we’d all been told he would answer any question we wanted to ask him. Any question about any topic at all. So I was wracking my brains trying to come up with something good, something original, something hard-hitting and penetrating and relevant, a question that would stand out from all the mundane bullshit everyone else was asking. I wanted to give the president a chance to satisfy his critics on both the Left and the Right, to defuse the rising hysteria and ignorance and anger that is sweeping this nation and make everything all right again, for everyone. I knew he could do it if only he heard the right question, the magic query that would send his thought processes cascading down just the right pathway. And it was going to be my question that would do it. It was all on me.

So what, you may be wondering, was my question? My brilliant inquiry that would restore the glory of the Republic? Well, when my turn finally came, and the president stood before me and shook my hand and looked me in the face, I asked him… man, I hate to admit this, even though I’m the one who brought it up…

I asked him which of the Star Wars movies was his favorite.

I’ve been haunted by this all morning…