Behold, FOTUS

Here you have it, [fixed!] fellow bewilderees: the Fratboy-in-Chief.

Am I opposed to cavorting with bikini-clad girls? No, I am not. In fact, I'm on record as being all for it. Am I anti-fun? Nuh-uh...nuh-uh...a thousand times nuh-uh. You can ask anybody.

But know what I'm especially for? The POTUS retaining at least a modicum of decorum. Just a wee bit. Just a smidge. Try to not act like a drunken asshat on Spring Break--that's all I'm asking here.

See, if he were minimally honest and competent, a few rather less frat-rattish moments like these would be humanizing and endearing. But when one is a complete piece of crap who has completely botched the most important job in the world in a way that will screw things up throughout the world for years to come...then, see, stuff like this is no longer funny. Then it's just nauseating and angrifying.

And, see, hitting around a volleyball is one thing. This kind of crap while Georgia burns...well, words really do fail me.

President Flounder, everybody...the FOTUS. Our representative to the world.

[Update: 'nuther FOTUS shot.]