L.A. Stories- The President's Man

I met him at a nightclub. He was standing against a wall, dancing oddly, and alone. He caught my eye because it's not every night you can go to a hip-hop club and see a middle-aged Asian man in a 3-piece suit and tie, complete with tacky rhinestone American flag lapel pin. To ice his Stereotype cake, he was also sporting a bulky Nikon camera dangling from a thick neckstrap.

He'd been checking out my group of friends, and I was highly entertained when Tiffany, an amazing dancer in short-shorts and heels, decided to go dance with the curious Chinaman.
They made a really odd couple- she's a girl who exudes style and energy and sex appeal and spunk. Him, well... not so much. He jerked around awkwardly while she glided around him like silky smooth nutella on a dumpling. Not a good combination, but hilarious to watch.

After a moment, when she'd had enough fun and he was about to lose his audience, he turned his camera on. I thought he wanted to photograph Tiffany, and I walked over to provide her an out, but instead, he flips the camera around and shows us both photos of him... standing next to Obama.
Okay... this just went from really amusing to bizarre.

Desperate to prove his credentials, he shows us frame after frame of him standing next to or near both Barack and Michelle Obama, wearing the same awful suit and awful lapel pin.
We then asked the question you don't often hear at a nightclub:
"So how do you know the President?"

It wasn't a good environment for a conversation- the music was too loud to discern his answer, but we were burning with curiosity- we'd discovered something truly rare and strange- we just didn't know what to do with it!

I couldn't understand his explanation- his English wasn't fluent and the music was deafening- but I did hear him clearly ask "what do we do?"
Tiff's a dancer, I'm a writer. We told him as much.
"Oh," he says. "I need a writer! What kind of writing?"
Blogs. Sketch Comedy. Stand-up. How do I begin to explain...
"Funny stuff," I say. "Comedy."
His eyes light up. "I need comedy writer! Here!"
He hands me an embossed business card with a gold seal on it, identifying him as "Dr. Hong Feom Lee,"* and he's the President of a College-I've-Never-Heard-O

f.

He indicates over the Jay-Z song that I should write my email down on the back of an extra card of his.
Tiffany jabs me with an elbow and arches an eyebrow, which is the International signal for:
"Do it- he knows the President!"
So I do- I want to know how this strange middle-aged Chinese club guy got to hang with Barack, and I wondered what possible use he could have for me.

We part ways and lose him in the crowd. It's not hard because he's 4 feet tall. At the end of the night, Tiffany makes me promise to email him and find out what his story is.
It turns out I didn't have to- at 9AM the next morning, there's an email from the good Doctor.
"Hello, it was a pleasure to meet you last night. I would like your help inserting comedy into my speeches. I would like to meet with you. You are cordially invited to my office to discuss this. Sincerely, Dr. Hong Feom Lee, President, College-You've-Never-Heard-Of."

Hmm. I sent him an email back, responding that it was nice to meet him too, and that I'd be happy to send him some samples to see if he liked my particular style.

A few hours later, I received an email from him, with slightly worse English:
"Hello, yes, please bring your samples to my office. I will like to read them. You can take ESL and Acting at my college. Sincerely, Dr. Hong Feom Lee, President, College-You've-Never-Heard-of."

Hmm. I sent him some samples- a few blogs, a couple of sketches, a portion from a live show I wrote, and part of a screenplay. It was a lot of material, but I wanted to give him a good idea of what I can offer. I sent out the email and then googled the College-I've-Never-Heard-Of. It is a dingy, cracked office building which caters to literally fresh-off-the-boat Asian immigrants looking to learn English. It offers "assimilation" courses, and yes, even acting. In English. Dr. Lee is indeed the President, and is shown in several photographs pointing to things as a crowd of bored Chinese people look on.
The website boasts that the "College" offers a 'snack room for eating,' and vending machines. Two are shown in the photographs, as proof.

By the time I was done looking at the website, (I'd spent maybe three minutes) I already had a response from Dr. Hong Feom Lee, President, College-With-Snack-Machines:
"I like your wringting very much! Please meet with me! Sincerely, Dr. Hong Feom Lee, President, Huge Rip-Off-Scam-For-People-Trying-To-Learn-English."

Frankly, I was a little surprised that he'd read all my wringting so quickly... The samples I'd sent him should've taken longer than 3 minutes, but, when a man makes up his mind about something...

"Dear Dr. Lee," I sent:
"I'm so glad you enjoyed the samples I sent. Feel free to email me a portion of a sample speech and I will add to it and send it back to you. If you're happy with the results, we can discuss rates for a complete re-write of a speech. I look forward to working with you- however, I travel often and will be unable to meet with you in person. I'll be happy to work with you any time online."

And I never heard from him again.

Gasp.

To this day, no one knows when or where The President's Man will appear. He's gone, now- he's in the wind. But beware, ladies- one day, when you least expect it, some Asian dude in a bad suit may scam on you at a nightclub- he may show you confusing, vaguely impressive photos- but don't be fooled... This man is not interested in your wringting. He's The President's Man- and he's only interested in one thing: giving you ESL and acting classes.