Mike from Camping Pt. 5

“Nine billion?” I asked. “That's a lot of money.”
“I don’t have that money thanks to that black president. He’s stealin' from the poor."
"Obama?" I retorted.
“Yea the black one.” Mike snorted a lugie combined with tobacco juices in the back of his throat. Hocked a snot rocket into the woods behind him.
“It seems that every president does so.” I tried to hold back my urges to test his racial elucidations, but couldn't. “Mike, what’s the…”
“I just want someone to talk to,” Mike interrupted, repeating himself. “I talk to my dog, but he don’t ever talk back.