The first time I received an email from the President of the United States was on July 4th, 2009. Naturally I was flattered. Oh sure, I knew it was a form letter type email, and I knew the only reason I was one of millions receiving such a compliment was because I had filled out the registration form at the Democratic Party website. I probably filled it out just so I would be allowed the privilege of leaving some snarky or sarcastic comment, I don't know. I have equal sarcasm for both Decromats and Rebuplicans. I'm an equal opportunity grouch.

But I digress. I was talking about the President's email. I was touched. It was after all, only the second time in my life I had received a direct message from a US president. The first was from Rixard Nichon, but it was obviously fake. I mean it was actually sent from the White House, but it had been stamped with his signature, and was sent by some staffer in response to a letter I had sent, asking for his autograph.

Somehow, there was something more personal to me about an email. Go figure. The rational side of me knew that Baback Orama himself probably had nothing to do with this message. Some staffer had surely concocted the whole thing, then with all full sanction and permission from our government, went ahead and sent it out to millions of Americans with the official seal and signature of the President. There oughta be a law.

Nonetheless, the little kid side of my brain couldn't help feeling like good old cousin Barack had taken time out of his busy schedule to sit down at his keyboard in the soft glow of a White House kerosine lamp, and draft an email, directly to me. The millions of others who had received it were simply our audience and had been blind carbon copied just to let them in on this noteworthy event.

I did the only thing I felt was right. I emailed back. I sent him some advice. After all, that's the business I'm in. I've promised to answer every email I receive with some free advice. It's my passion. I told him he should fire the Federal Reserve and start printing American money. It is his constitutional right. (Of course, doing such a thing would send this country into an economic mudslide, but it is the right thing to do. If the country survived, it would be so much stronger and more independent. If it died, it would probably only die off at the top, and the roots would continue to grow. What this country needs most is a healthy root system. If the roots withered and died, it would only be because of good old American greed and hubris. If that were to happen, sadly, it deserves to die.)

Did the president follow my advice? Of course not. He did, however, remember my motto: You are strongly advised not to follow my advice!

In fact, he wrote back and blatantly flaunted that in my face by asking me for five dollars. I kid you not. The President of the United States hitting me up for five dollars. The most powerful man in the free world comin' at me like some common panhandler. Except even the most annoying panhandlers only ask you for "a few bucks" or "a couple bucks" or even some "spare change" ... but five bucks? Now for that, I gotta hand it to him. He has some enormous Presidential Balls, and I'm not invited.

Mr. President, with all due respect, sir, if you had taken my advice, you could print your own damn five bucks! You could whip out as many of those Abe Lincoln portraits as you need. You could be wearing a suit stitched together out of Five Dollar bills in legally sanctioned US currency! You could paper the White House Green Room in greenbacks! You could be lighting your cigars with it. Running them through the shredder to make confetti! You could go mad with it! So why do you insist on coming to me? Little old can't-scratch-a-dime-out-of-a-dime-store me? Why are you coming to me with your hat in your hand, asking for a handout?

I've had to change my policy. I will only respond to emails that are obviously sincere, and will not respond to the three AMS. Specifically spAMS, scAMS and sLAMS. Even if they come from the President of the United States.

After all, I have enough stress in my life already.