Virginia Heffernan is author of Magic and Loss: The Internet as Art.

Those who choose to live in clinical denial, ahoy! This is a no-judgment zone, in which you will be urged to forget the current American president’s name—and instead enjoy escapist fan fiction about Barack Obama and Joe Biden.

Yes, there is such a thing. Past presidential fanfic masterworks—like “Kim Jong Elmo vs Dick Cheney and George Bush featuring Lapis Lazuli”—might have been relegated to online speakeasies, but so great is the nostalgie d’Obama that new books about Barry and Joe are bringing fanfic’s nerdy tropes into the light of day in print.


Parodist Andrew Shaffer has just added a new entry to his enjoyably ludicrous Obama-Biden series, which launched last year with Hope Never Dies and features the duo solving mysteries together. The second entry, published in July, is called, you guessed it, Hope Rides Again. Indie director Adam Reid’s gonzo graphic confection, The Adventures of Barry & Joe, which styles Obama and Biden as time-traveling superheroes, was released this past spring. It is here to, if not to save the day, then at least demonstrate the life-changing magic of putting our heads under the covers and pretending it’s 2015.

I respect you if you refuse to look back and entertain fantasies that Obama and Biden might return to deliver the Republic from evil. Biden on the 2020 stump might wield Obama’s name like a talisman to protect himself from criticism, but all sane voters know the Joe-Barack heyday is never coming back.

Still, tucking into the fantasies of Reid, a filmmaker whose 2010 film Hello Lonesome was a festival darling, and Shaffer, a novelist who teaches writing in Kentucky, I decided to tolerate and maybe even open my heart to the authors’ poignant nostalgia for libmerica. It’s a powerful thing to mark the difference between today’s gruesome nonfan-nonfic—in which the Chosen One aims to delete China while annexing Israel and Greenland—and escape back to the relative paradise known as 2008 to 2016.

The covers of ‘Hope Never Dies’ and ‘Hope Rides Again,’ by Andrew Shaffer. | Courtesy of Quirk Books

Now, to Uncle Joe. Hope Never Dies (Quirk Books), the first of the Shaffer mysteries—Hardy Boys-style with a YA version of the Dashiell Hammett narrative voice, but goofy—was released before Biden had announced his presidential bid; the second, Hope Rides Again, came out not long afterward. Like many an Obaman, Shaffer’s Biden opens the first novel frozen in time, just after the 2016 election, gorging on Ben & Jerry’s. This bothers Jill, Joe’s wife. In both Shaffer novels, Joe and Jill (and Barack and Michelle) are comparable to lovable, forgettable CBS sitcom duos of a decade ago: Everybody Loves Raymond, King of Queens. The dude is a charming galoot; the wife has his number.

But the real One True Pairing here—let’s not kid ourselves—is gonna involve Barack, whose communiqués Joe initially awaits like a schoolgirl scorned. “After Jill was sound asleep, I scrolled through old text messages Barack and I had exchanged a lifetime ago,” Shaffer writes. “It was an exercise in futility. If I kept picking at the wound, it was never going to heal.”

Biden mirrors the sulky American people. Is Barack Obama ghosting us?

Probably. But in Hope Never Dies, he‘s not ghosting Biden, and after Encyclopedia Joe stumbles on the mystery of the murdered Amtrak conductor in Hope Never Dies, the Dem Duo reunite to criss-cross Delaware in a farrago that leads them to find the mastermind of the opioid epidemic because why not. (It is not the Sacklers, FYI; fanfic is fic.)

On the cover of Hope Rides Again, the sequel, Obama wears tan as, in an Ethan Hunt moment, he dashingly mounts a rope ladder to a helicopter, giving a hand to trusty Joe. This choice, of course, expresses Shaffer’s fondness for no-drama Obama by reminding us that right-wing pundits had nothing to make hay about in summer 2014 but the president’s beige suit. In this novel, Joe is about to announce his presidential bid, when Barack loses track of his BlackBerry—warning, the nostalgia goes deep; Obama even smokes again—and the device’s thief has been murdered. Off they go!

Joe encounters thugs, a grenade, near-disaster on an airplane. And he and Barack do, it’s true, end up, “huddled together, arms twisted like a couple of pretzels”—but they’re in a hole the size of a washing machine in the hull of a ship. By the time the police helicopter arrives for them, unfurling its rope ladder, they’ve finished off the bad guys and are ready to fly away, like Obama leaving the White House on January 20, 2017. Sniff.

The cover (left) and other scenes from ‘The Adventures of Barry & Joe: Obama and Biden’s Bromantic Battle for the Soul of America,’ by Adam Reid. | Adam Reid/William Morrow & Dey Street Books; cover art by Titmouse Inc.

If this is all high corn, there’s some actual sweetness, too: Shaffer clearly admires and somehow truly gets Joe’s geriatric efforts to be cool and, especially cringily, down with the 44th president, with fist bumps and (yikes) even pseudo-Ebonics. It’s good someone finds that side of Joe charming.

Reid’s Adventures of Barry & Joe (Dey Street Books), the product of a Kickstarter campaign, is considerably skeevier than the wholesome Shaffer books. To clarify: None of this is slash. That’s a blessing. Shaffer and Reid do not, I repeat do not, reprise (entirely) the Kirk/Spock erotics from the earliest days of pre-internet fan fiction. In case you somehow dodged the ’70s zines, in which fanfic was first codified, “slash” were the sexy fairy tales, mostly by women, in which the fellowship expressed on the USS Enterprise tilted into loving tendresse and then—sweetly, slowly—into … make-out jams.

Presumably Reid wants a bigger audience for his graphic novel than he’d get with straight slash. Adventures is ultimately something called “ampersand” fanfic, meaning friendship, not romance, defines the Barry & Joe relationship. (That’s “ship” in fanfic-speak—you D.C. squares got a lot to learn.)

But, unaccountably, Reid still wants to see the former president and VP nekkid, so by panel No. 7 of the chapter called “True Bromance,” they’re drawn in a locker room, preparing to participate in a time-travel experiment by stripping down to their briefs. By No. 9, we’re to full-posterior nudity. Joe, so you know, has the dusty-rose busting-at-the-seams body of geezer strongman Jack LaLanne. Barry, while also shredded, is only somewhat slimmer. Glutes have been diligently attended to by the artists in that section, Joe St. Pierre (of Marvel), Anwar Hananu (Image Comics) and freelance illustrator Dezi Sienty. (The Adventures, which includes a grab bag of stories, aphorisms and short plays alongside the graphic components, is very much a group effort.)

Before Joe and Barack disappear into a time-travel vessel that looks like KitchenAid made it, Biden says, “Barack, I want you to know … I wanna hug even though we’re naked. Is that wrong?” Barry: “Let’s not.” Joe: “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Scenes from ‘The Adventures of Barry & Joe,’ written by Adam Reid and featuring multiple artists. | Illustrations by LaSpina and Court Jones

Much of Reid’s scrapbook concerns madcap travel in the “multiverse,” in what could be a tribute to the late Mad magazine. The taste level is Mad, also. In one of Reid’s short stories, Joe returns to the 1970s, looks uncannily hot, and gets a chance to talk to his son, Beau, then 9. More than the nudity, this fictional resurrection of Biden’s son—the real Beau Biden died of brain cancer in 2015—seems far too intrusive to be even campily enjoyable.

I winced. Until that point, I’d been reading with the simmering notion that liberal democracy, now globally stifled, might come back to life with a new leader in 2020. But Beau Biden will not come back to life. Suddenly the whole project of these wish-fulfillment Obama fantasias seemed like nothing more than fodder for Trump ralliers to, as the T-shirt says, oil their guns with liberal tears. And how in the world could I write about it? One false move—one mention in fiction that Obama and Biden (in fiction) are (fictional) witnesses to an (imaginary) gangland shooting (in a work of fiction)—and you might end up quoted with a straight face in some daft anti-Biden propaganda that ricochets all over the internet. While I could suspend solemnity for a few hours, in this current breath-holdingly paranoid climate, there’s not enough oxygen for this much playfulness.

If the Library of Congress shelving system were remade for our time, these fanfic works might be classified as “WAFF,” because they’re meant to generate—you got it—warm and fuzzy feelings. Those are the feelings most Americans still vaguely remember from four years ago. But we’re forgetting. And before we introduce delusions about what might have been, we have an urgent challenge in the present—Trumpism, which can be stopped only with something other than naked cartoons. Thus, the Biden-Obama counterfactuals, especially because they’re meant to be fun, leave me with CAPs—cold and pricklies. Now that’s a phrase from the 1970s that should be brought back.