“Oh, I’m sorry, Andrew. I was just going over my email. Hello, what do we have here? Well, what do you know? It’s an email from my old college roommate, Roger.”

“I’m sure it brings back memories, Mr. President. Now, I need you to look over this proposed list of targets.”

“Hmmm… Says here he’s a concert promoter.”

“I’ll bet he’s a good one, sir, but we’ve got a world to save, so could we please get back to this list of targets?”

“Says he’s the biggest in the state. Even sent me a couple of pictures. Look, there he is standing next to Paul McCartney. And there’s another one of him posing with Elton John and Def Leppard. Sigh…“

“Certainly you’re not envious, are you Mr. President?”

“Maybe a little, Andrew. I always thought being a promoter would be the greatest job in the world. Every day a different show, like Lynyrd Skynyrd and Coldplay. Plus, you never have to buy a ticket.”

“Those sound like great perks, Mr. President. Now, about these projected fallout levels.”

“Haggling with agents over appearance fees for Biohazard and Mudvayne. Bickering about contracts for Bonnie Raitt, Sister Hazel and Erasure. Gosh, that must be exciting.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And going backstage after the show! I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Yes, Mr. President, now about these nuclear winter predictions.”

“Strutting up to the security guard, flashing my ‘all-access’ laminate, and hobnobbing with Mix Mob and The Vines. Being on a first-name basis with Duncan Sheik, Ani DiFranco and Jethro Tull. Oh, how I envy him. You know, Andrew, I once tried becoming a promoter.”

“Sir?”

“Ever since I was a kid, I dreamed about putting on the big shows. Like Red Hot Chili Peppers, Bruce Springsteen and Bryan Ferry.”

“But your job isn’t so bad, Mr. President. After all, does a promoter get to ride in Air Force One, ban cloning and bury nuclear waste in Nevada?”

“No, but he gets to track ticket counts for Norah Jones and make offers for Bon Jovi and Bob Log III, the lucky stiff.”

“Then you don’t mind my asking, sir, if you wanted to be a promoter so much…”

“Then why didn’t I, Andrew?”

“Er, yes.”

Oh, I wanted to, but I couldn’t get past the basics. The math was incredible. Plus it required additional credits in Humanities, Economics and Ethics. No, Andrew, I guess I just wasn’t cut out to be a promoter. If only…”

“If only what, sir?”

“If only my grades had been higher.”