The bird-tongued President goes to his favorite fast food outlet. He orders baloney sandwiches for his retinue of court jesters. While pigging, editors of
The Onion give him his daily briefing. As the rest of the planet laughs at his Presidency, all the scientists are not happy.
The President notices something making his nostrils flare. He raises his small hand for the waiter to come, yelling, "Why is my pickle so little?" The waiter, trying his best to suppress his laugh, says, "Sir, the guy who prepared your baloney sandwich is psychic. He knows it, sir, even if you deny it."
The fuming President opens his mouth and discharges fire like a flamethrower, reducing the poor waiter into ashes.