So we are treated to Secretary Kerry yammering away about those mean old Russians. The sight of JFK (Just For Kerry) hits a few nerves with me. I don't like the way he betrayed his fellow vets. I am suspicious of a man who made lifetime enemies where others made lifetime friends. I dislike his sense of privilege and I will never understand Limousine Liberals, Lear Jet Liberals or Long Yacht Liberals.
Nonetheless, Kerry looks the part of Secretary of State. He seems to be in control of the situation, a grown-up in charge.
The camera cuts to the President and I see an overgrown college sophomore. Despite the gray hair, he is still the guy who would blow off a national security meeting if someone tapped a keg. When you cut through the window dressing--the imbecilic halo, the fainting women, the cheap hypnotic cadence, the enhanced audio, the dais stacked with brain dead losers--you see a pathetically vapid human being who knows down deep that he is pathetically vapid.
Part of me says we should choose our words carefully in times of national crisis. We must speak with one voice against the forces of oppression. We must be careful about kibbutzing from the sidelines. Michael speaks for the Corleone Family. Then I remind myself that Barry is our president.
Where's the keg, man?
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