Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Piling It Higher And Deeper

Is this our future? Will "Poor, Poor Barack" stories dominate the world of print? The high-minded, idealistic saint butting heads with the vestiges of power. Can a mini-series ve far behind?

Usually, Obama spends Sundays with his family. Now he was headed for a three-day fund-raising trip to Seattle, San Francisco, and Los Angeles, rattling the cup in one preposterous mansion after another. The prospect was dispiriting. 

How long can we choke back the tears? Yes, he could have stayed in that cabin on the Potomac and toiled in the job he was elected to do but Barry had to be amongst his people. Poor, poor Barack.

“At the back end of his career, I see him as an international and national community organizer.”

Is that what we call a latter day Jim Jones?

“I don’t see him locked up in a room writing all the time. His capacity to crank stuff out is amazing. When he was writing his second book, he would say, ‘I’m gonna get up at seven and write this chapter—and at nine we’ll play golf.’ I would think no, it’s going to be a lot later, but he would knock on my door at nine and say, ‘Let’s go.’ 

In other words, he used a ghost writer and will use a ghost in the future?

The question is whether Obama will satisfy the standard he set for himself. 

This is just page two of eighteen, folks.

His biggest early disappointment as President was being forced to recognize that his romantic vision of a post-partisan era, in which there are no red states or blue states, only the United States, was, in practical terms, a fantasy. 

But what did he find enchanting?

The structures of American division came into high relief once he was in office. 

But Barry was never, ever, ever, ever divisive?

The Republican Party is living through the late-mannerist phase of that revolution, fuelled less by ideas than by resentments. 

And if they did have ideas, they would not be considered.

Rejection is all. Obama can never be opposed vehemently enough.

We tried to choke back the tears.  The floodgates are opened and we are now treading water in the briny swells. Poor, poor Barack.

Two pages is all I can do today, folks. Maybe after I drink lots of water and the eyes have sated their reservoirs, maybe, just maybe I can view this saga anew.  Poor, poor Barack.

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