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Can you believe your wondering eyes? President Panic strikes again. This guy has more jokes up his worried sleeve than a quadriplegic magician.
Where does he keep finding sneaky Democratic tax-cheats who lust for naked power while while telling Uncle Sammy, “I don’t got to pay no stinking income taxes.”
Sixteen days in office, and the (presumably unintentional) jokester in the White House already is President Scandal, closing in fast on President Titanic.
He must be working from a secretly prepared script, “How to Govern for Raw Rookies Who Don’t Know Nothin’ About Governin’, and Are Too Darned Arrogant to Ask for Help.”
Gotta be tough on the quivering psyche. Here you are steadily employed for the first time in your life at the age of 47 and you are trying to run a whole country with both eyes closed while wearing airtight earmuffs. That is the way working families act, isn’t it?
Does Dr. Rush Prescribe a Cure?
Instead of pettily rebuking Rush Limbaugh, President Panic should put him on speed-dial. Beg his help on finding scandal-free nominees. Being a Republican, Rush knows plenty of them.
President Panic must have planned this horrid chain of lousy luck. No President could accidentally commit so many ludicrous gaffes in a little over two oppressive weeks. Thank heaven, we are down to his last three years and 48 weeks.
Stunning news item from Washington this morning:
“A Senate committee today abruptly canceled a session to consider President Obama's nomination of U.S. Rep. Hilda Solis, from East L.A., to be Secretary of Labor secretary in the wake of a USA Today report saying that her husband yesterday paid about $6,400 to settle tax liens against his business — liens that had been outstanding for as long as 16 years.”
President Panic’s antennae for selecting friends is even worse than the sensible people who warned America about him thought it was. Wright, Ayers and Rezco have nothing on liars such as Solis, Daschle, Richardson and Geithner.
He must be trying to act like a boob.
Drop by Malibu with me later this afternoon, and we shall stroke our chins while watching President Panic and his left-wing advisors, imitating beached whales. They will thrash around madly on the dampened sands, clucking, “Hope-and-change, hope-and-change.”
Chicago, Chicago, My Hometown
I hold in my little hand a one-way train ticket back to the safe, more comfortably corrupt environs of Chicago. I will give it to him if the President wants to raise his little white surrender flag on the 16th day of the longest running gag since Red Skelton keeled over.
If my sons were still small, I would invite President Panic to entertain at their birthday parties this year. The good part is, we can start laughing now. And we don’t have to stop until he has safely sneaked out of Washington.
President Panic’s baloney line about hope-and-change, which conned 53 percent of the country last autumn, is making him look like the bearded lady at the circus — an increasingly pathetic figure worthy of 53 percent pity and 47 percent scorn.
000 Replacing 007?
Normally, I would reject a conspiracy theory. But the peripatetic President Panic’s performance has been so pathetic, so lacking in insight, that I will make an exception. There has to be a James Bond-like anti-Obama plant hidden in the recesses of the White House. Devilishly, this plant keeps feeding Obama advisors the names of nominees who are a cinch to embarrass the President.
Team Obama, boys, is in high mutiny. They are diving overboard faster than rats named Phelps with a joint in their pocket.
Forget her spectacular scofflaw of a husband. Hilda Solis, a veteran liar, is a problem child all by herself. If you look closely the next few days, you may notice her nose expanding. It is a runaway disease among Obama Democrats.
