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Barack Obama’s in town! This means that a) traffic is going to be a disaster and b) we can write some fan fiction. One of his stops is an expensive dinner hosted by Anna Wintour and Harvey Weinstein — could you think of a pair more opposite in physicality but more alike in power? — at Weinstein’s place in the West Village.
What will serious-minded Barry talk about with these entertainment moguls? Here’s an imagined conversation:
Obama: So, Anna, I’m dying to know. What’s with that Condé Nast elevator Twitter account?
Anna: Barack, we’ve discussed this already: I know you’re really interested, but it’s a sore subject. I really don’t want to talk about it.
Obama: So is it really that guy from Lucky? Who would have thought that magazine would ever give you trouble?
Obama: Okay, okay! Sorry I brought it up.
There’s a lull in conversation. It’s silent. Deadly silent. As silent as when Anna is in the Condé elevator with an intern.
Anna: So, Barack, how’s the national economic crisis going?
Obama: Anna, I would prefer not to discuss that tonight.
Once, again, silence, until Gwyneth Paltrow (who the Post says will be there) breaks into a rousing rendition of “Fuck You” with hubby Chris Martin accompanying her on piano.
Harvey: Bravo, Gwyneth. No one remembers GOOP.