Now that Joe Biden has officially hung up his title as America’s least present and punctual office worker, the special interests who once needed him for access and favors have quietly slipped out the back door. With donor enthusiasm collapsing faster than Biden’s approval ratings, the fundraising for his presidential library has hit a wall, and not even the big, beautiful wall he once pretended he didn’t support.
Instead of the grand steel-and-glass monuments built by his predecessors, Biden’s “library” is now expected to consist of a single “BOOKMOBILE.” It will roam the streets of Delaware on a schedule so unpredictable that locals have already nicknamed it “Amtrak 2.0.”
When not parked in front of a Wawa, the library-on-wheels will spend its downtime at Biden’s Wilmington home, sandwiched awkwardly between a stack of misplaced classified documents and his beloved Corvette. Visitors will be encouraged to honk twice if they want entry, and three times if they’d like the President Emeritus himself to shuffle out in aviators and whisper, “No joke.”
The bookmobile’s attractions promise to be memorable:
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The “Corn Pop Collection”: one shelf of children’s books, heavily annotated with confusing side notes.
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“Exit Strategy: A Maze Experience”: visitors try to find their way out of a small cardboard Afghanistan diorama in under 20 years.
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The Whispering Chamber: a dark corner where you can hear recordings of Biden’s most famous lines, each beginning with, “C’mon, man.”
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Garage Display: tour guides warn you not to lean on the classified folders propped against the Camaro poster.
“Other presidents had marble libraries,” sighed one disappointed donor. “We’re getting a roving bookmobile with a busted air conditioner. Honestly, it feels about right.”
At press time, Biden himself was said to be fully supportive of the scaled-back project, telling aides: “Look, Jack, as long as it’s got a horn, some paperbacks, and a place to plug in my record player, it’s the finest library in America.”
We were so screwed.
— Steve
