posted on 5/24/2013 by the Salt City Sinner It’s 9:17 PM on a sleepy Sunday night in Salt Lake City, UT -- in the avenues, to be precise. It’s a quiet, friendly neighborhood, currently in the process of winding down after another day of civic excellence. It has been warm, but not hot, and a breeze floats through my open bedroom window, gently ruffling my Batman bed sheets. I am on the verge of falling asleep, awash in that meditative state that bleeds into unconsciousness, when I hear my front door open. This is odd since I am A) not expecting visitors and B) pretty certain that I locked it. Before I am fully awake, I see a tall silhouette glide silently into my bedroom, and I hear a voice that I instantly recognize. “Sorry to bother you,” the voice says, “but it’s been a hard few weeks and I needed a kindred spirit to talk to.” Even in a startled and half-dozing state, it’s impossible to mistake Barack Obama, 44th President of these United States of America, for an...