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Somewhere in heaven, I suspect Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is weeping this morning.
When he envisioned a black man in the White House, an unaccomplished, undistinguished, unprincipled junior senator from Illinois was not the figure who bobbed up on his mind’s screen. Dr. King dreamed of a black man with a proud record, not a magician hawking a resume dominated by misleading claims, rogue denials and vague inspecificities.
Even after he has taken the oath of office, we have no idea who our new President is.
Hopefully, America will not awake with a hangover after the childish hype and silly puerile behavior — of the media — go away.
Conservatively, Barack Obama, vaguely — and under— employed since the1980s, was elected to the White House 10 to 20 years before he would have been reasonably ready.
This is one of at least two looming problems. The other: America is saddled with a President with no known core values.
His only admitted value is being black. Even that specious claim is only 50 percent legitimate. He is as white as he is black.
Who is he? What is he?
The voters shrug. They certainly do not know. And the pundits, never shy about self-inflation, are no more helpful.
When both voters and pundits were pressed to identify Mr. Obama’s top two achievements, they were struck speechless.
As Dorothy Parker said of Oakland, “There is no there there.”
At least 99 percent of the country voted for Mr. Obama over Sen. McCain because he is black — and the remaining 1 percent are not talking. His cloudily stated “policies” were written in water. They were amended only when necessary or expedient. While he has appeared to be a man of the left, he has retreated toward the middle when pushed — and I mean nudged slightly, not shoved.
Nobody Home?
There is a valid reason Mr. Obama’s clever handlers have, almost desperately, linked our new President to every predecessor who ever tasted the whiff of greatness — Lincoln, FDR, Reagan, Kennedy.
Since most Americans say they learn their news from television, it is child’s play to fool them, like taking unsophisticated persons to a circus and exhorting them to believe.
Besides his skin color, there is no there there for Mr. Obama.
Do you know where he stands on the Middle East?
Do you know where he stands on Iraq?
Do you know where he stands on gay marriage? He has, so far, stood against it without paying a price.
Do you know where he stands on tax breaks for business owners?
Or last summer’s infamous and phony “tax cuts for 95 percent of Ametricans”?
Do you know where he stands on Afghanistan?
On Opening Day at the White House, he is President Enigma.
Inauguration Day is like turning over the pilot’s chair, on an airliner filled to capacity, to a college student who never has been airborne but really, really, really wants to be a pilot someday — or at least to see if he likes it.
Reaching into a Cracker-Jack Box
In the two months since his pretty onesided election, Mr. Obama has shown a disturbing knack for making poor personnel choices for key positions — Richardson, Emanuel, Holder, Geithner.
Mr. Obama may grow into one of the great Presidents in our history.
The weeds in my backyard might miraculously morph into red roses by the dinner hour, too.
I am reminded of the Hollywood director who suddenly found himself one actor short for a scene.
“Get me a black man,” he barked. “I don’t care if he is tall or short, young or old, fat or thin.”
This was approximately the uncerebral political calculus used to cull the brilliantly marketed Mr. Obama from a field of two Democratic candidates last winter.
Oh, Sweet Irony
How ironic is it that Mr. Obama becomes President a scant 36 hours after one of his several — known — notorious patrons is humiliated?
The American terrorist Bill Ayers, who helped Mr. Obama attain both his present fiscal and political prominence, was refused entry into Canada — are you kidding, Canada? — on Sunday night for a speaking engagement.
My dead dog could walk into Canada without flashing ID.
Crawling out from his crowded position under a bus, where Mr. Obama threw him last summer, the flushed Mr. Ayers said:
“I don’t know why I was turned back. The border guards reviewed some stuff and said I wasn’t going to be allowed in.”
In his lectures, Mr. Ayers advocates revolution in schools — by students and their teachers. Had he been allowed into Canada, his subject last night would have been: “Dialogue on Teacher Activism for Transforming Schools.” “Transforming” sounds so much more genteel than “revolution.”
