Dear Mr. New President Obama,

I hope you enjoyed your party. You and your wife both looked great, and I was sorry to have to turn off your speech in the middle. I thought that would be the best time to see if any local Democrats had left their houses unlocked when they took off for Washington.

(I figure it's time I had a flat-panel TV to watch you on.)

I struck out this time, but I'll have another chance when half the population of Pittsburgh stampedes to Florida for that annual TV show with the cool commercials. They may be gone a whole week, now that US Airways is offering cruises.

I caught up with the rest of your speech later on, and while I thought it was really strong and presidential, did you realize viewers couldn't text in their comments during the speech? I thought we'd get to provide instant feedback, like on "Total Request Live."

If you really want to be POTUS 2.0, you need to get some techies on that. Don't make us wait till your first State of the Union for an IM crawl, and don't make us wait till after the speech for some tiresome old talking head in a tie who barely ever uses even one exclamation point.

Also: I thought you were going to use your inaugural address to tell us how you were going to fix everything. Because I traveled around the country talking to people before the election, and I talked to a lot of black people in Cleveland on Election Day and Election Night, and I think it's fair to say that under your suit jacket you'd better be wearing a cape.

If you are anything less than Abraham Lincoln as portrayed by Sidney Poitier, there is going to be a class-action lawsuit.

It's not your fault. The economy collapsed like the house of cards it was (building codes are unnecessary and onerous), we're all out of work or afraid we're about to be, and we wonder how we're going to make our car payments, keep a roof over our heads and still have a little left over at the end of the month to bail out all those banks less fortunate than we are.

We want a hero. Preferably one who knows that we are not subjects. And that subjects should agree with verbs.

So it was a surprise to hear you ask us to pitch in with "the work of remaking America." Is that how Cheney hurt his back? Mine hasn't been quite right since I remade my dining room. Tell you what: I'll help remake America if we can remake Pennsylvania with a coastline. Biden should be able to remake Delaware as parking.

And then there's this business about how "there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, as giving our all to a difficult task."

Remember the kinds of things everybody's dad described as building character? Taking an after-school job cleaning bus-station restrooms. Swimming in a glacier. Frankly, I would rather leave my character a bit flabby and lacking in definition.

I know, as you said, that the challenges we face are real. They are serious, and they are many. They cause gingivitis, and they grab your ankles from underneath while you are unlocking your car.

I also know they will not be met easily, or in a short span of time, but they will be met, probably in a dark alley when we are not wearing our LifeAlert.

But it's all right for you. You seem confident, as well you should be. You are now commander in chief. You have an Army, and a Navy, and airplanes and spies and even diplomats -- I'm sure the instruction manual for those is at the State Department in a drawer somewhere.

If all else fails, you even have the football.

I don't mean the briefcase with the nuclear launch authentication codes. Some military dude follows you around with that. I mean the actual football.

The AFC championship game football you got from the family that owns the Steelers.

Good gravy, sir: If you can't save us with that kind of mojo in your gym bag, we should give the planet back to the salamanders.

Go to it. I'll be watching on TV while my character does a few situps.