[img]1|left|Ari Noonan||no_popup[/img]What captivates me more than Swish Obama’s 8 gaping gaffes in trying to keep his Ossifying Osama stories straight is why he has behaved so reprehensibly.

Proving again that his main skill could be messing up a one-car parade, his boorishness, his vast ego and his stagnant hard left philosophical convictions have driven him to compulsively turn what might have been his nirvana moment into a Never Again nightmare.

The self-ordained toast of the town is burnt. Again.

This was textbook choking in the clutch.

There is no need to criticize. Just observe and read the newspapers. He is falling flat before your eyes.

He is the ultimate postman — neither rain nor snow deters him. Since taking office, he has acted like a bubble-eyed starlet who has just escaped the clutches of her parents and runs from one interview to another in a Look How Talented I Am mode. No one brags anymore about an exclusive interview. When he talks to everybody, it ain’t very exclusive. He makes the Clintons look modest. He flees to Indianapolis tomorrow because he promised Mad Michelle when they got the White House they would see Indiana.

Since he started patting himself on the back with both hands Sunday night, he has been clumsier than a paraplegic paperhanger — and receding.

At the Core

Here is the rudimentary issue:

As a proud, marching member of the hard left, his guiding daily light is grounded in the moral silliness that evil does not exist in the world.

He believes there isn’t that much difference between and among us, that a Muslim extremist scarcely varies from a right-wing Christian or Jew.

He believes some people perform bad acts, but that there are no bad people, certainly no evil people — I am tempted to say except for Republicans.

He believes that the greatest crime in the world is inequality. He does not believe in the concept of good and evil, only the formula of fair and unfair.

His belief system is so flimsy that he could not stand before a kindergarten class this afternoon and retain a sober face while explaining why he, Daddy, is withholding the Osama killing photos from us immature children who, by darned, just can’t handle impressions of a Muslim dead guy.

Never lose sight of the Muslim factor in the President’s daily thinking. If his name had been Osama Rosenfeld, the country would be flooded with kill photos.

Like the drunk husband stumbling into bed at 3 a.m., his How I Did It by Myself explanations have been changing faster than his calculated expressions.

What Will the Rubes Fall for?

In one breath, he says it would be a security risk. Right, and my uncle was Henry IX, Swishy.

In another breath, he says “We don’t trot out this stuff as trophies.”

When my mother’s photo appeared in the newspaper the day after her death, no one in my family said, “Wow, what a trophy.”

The longer Swish babbles, the less serious he sounds, the more he is exposed.

This How We Wiped Out Osama thing was more tightly scripted than the revival of “Cats” — until the trademark Obama deceptions began leaking from the ceiling. The original All of Us Tell the Same Shpiel line began to fray and fall apart Monday night, and storytelling has been in retreat since.

Have you noticed an extraordinary oddity in the blizzard of Ain’t He Great, Obama-Really-May-Be-God reporting:

Every newspaper in the land has used the identical innocent noun to describe the takedown of the Muslim Monster, “death,” as in “the death of bin Laden.” As if he passively, calmly died in his bed, the way my 93-year-old father did two years ago yesterday.

The evil Muslim was killed, boys. Assassinated. He did not faint away from the sniffles.