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Barack Obama is the Democrats’ notion of a hot-air balloon, a huge presence, but, upon closer inspection, full of nothing.
Thirty days into a shaky Presidency, the enormously arrogant Mr. Obama is flailing.
But by being in perpetual motion, his advisors are properly convinced he will fool a lot of people for a long time.
The once hallowed Oval Office has been converted by the Gang That Couldn’t Talk Straight into the Pizzazz Parlor.
Disingenuity is his favorite weapon. He can swing filmy, blurred, disingenuous information around his head until he is dizzy, and never pay a price. The boobs and boobettes in the media who abetted his campaign remain firmly glued in their puppy-love stage.
Mr. Obama, so far, has but a single pose, hunkered down, his left hand clutching a pen, eager to sign into law his latest brainstorm.
Always moving, flying from city to city, and today out of the country, his handlers mean for him to give the impression of perpetual activity. He is the human version of the city that never sleeps.
Just Keep ‘Em Occupied
The President resembles one of those automatic baseball machines that keeps spitting out baseballs, endlessly, from the mound to the plate.
Mr. Obama’s arm — a euphemism for his non-stop, but hollow, rhetoric — never tires.
He pitches lofty-sounding abstractions and glowing generalities at us blindingly fast, and we are intended to be impressed by the overwhelming volume rather than taking a closer look at their vacuous contents.
He has spent 4 weeks essaying a series of spectacular acts. They were meant to show that even though he never has held more than a modicum of responsibility, he is roundly capable of leading the country. However, every single one of his vast bouquets of promises is unverifiably rooted in a foundation of feathers. Which is the idea.
Welcome, friends, to the Obama Carnival, home of the bearded lady, the klutzy clowns, the madcap midgets and The Talking Machine that won the Presidency last November.
Under the White House Big Top
Now you see him, now you don’t.
Yes, sirreee, baby.
Step right up. And please, sir, never let your hands touch your wallet. After all, we are all family here.
Whether it is Mr. Obama’s declaration to close down Guantanamo or to dispatch 17,000 troops to Afghanistan, the President’s daily pronouncements are intended to impress the gullible, mollify the curious and distract the rest of us.
All while skillfully ducking specific answers. Accountability is for Republicans.
Mr. Obama’s vaunted mind tells him that he only has to be accountable to his bossy wife. He has fashioned a very successful image out of going off half-cocked. What reflection?
Remember the bulbous announcement in the afterglow of Inauguration Day that, as promised, he would shut down the Guantanamo POW prison in a year. However, not only does he have no idea where he is going to send the Gitmo POWs, he has not begun to think through an answer. Too busy handing out new promises, as if they were one-dollar bills. But that doesn’t matter just as long as the rubes are impressed by his artificial work ethic and broad, instant grasp of the most difficult job on earth.
The spineless anti-war loudmouths on the left, who berated President Bush from the onset of the Iraq War, closed their eyes and turned away this week when Mr. Obama announced his stunning troop uptick in Afghanistan. They couldn’t bring themselves to ask “what is the mission?” as the belligerent Mr. Obama repeatedly bellowed on the campaign trail. The anti-war crowd couldn’t be bothered to inquire, politely, about Afghanistan’s duration or an exit strategy.
I guess the supposedly muscular anti-war movement is preparing to crawl through the cracks back into the woodwork.
I Can’t Know Everything
Don’t try to pin Mr. Obama down on a single promise he has made since Jan. 20. All of his promises are shiny. They glow in the dark. But they are really just playthings that are invisible in the daylight. He is no more serious about them than a circus barker. In different language, don’t take Mr. Obama at his word. He is intellectually analogous to Parkinson’s disease, shaky.
A self-consumed baloney slinger, Mr. Obama’s meticulously stitched promises are purposely unverifiable.
And Here Is the Winner
Let us not tarry, however, en route to the juiciest unverifiable pledge of all.
My personal favorite is a campaign promise that I think originated around Labor Day. Like Pinocchio’s nose, the darned thing keeps growing. As of this afternoon, it has reached gargantuan proportions, specifically scripted to astound the rubes in the hinterlands and impress his adoring media.
The most heavily promoted claim about this week’s stimulus package is that it will “create or save” between 3.5 and 4 million jobs.
The claim is a ridiculous assertion. It is as unverifiable as the distance from Culver City to the sky.
It is a typical, blatant, shame-free Obama lie, and we don’t read about that aspect because his Amen Chorus in the media is in on the joke.
Perhaps I can tell you that I was the King of Siam in the 10th century. Oh, yeah? you say. I say, prove that I wasn’t. That is the Obama game.
All but the slowest Obama voters know the oft-repeated “3.5 to 4 million jobs” line is a lie.
It is, meant to distract us from the fact that the President, understandably I would say, is weaving all over the highway as he tries to figure out his first fulltime job.
Unsurprisingly, not one of Mr. Obama’s supporters has publicly called him on the lie.
This remarkable display of passivity is the equivalent of President Obama striking you over the head with a baseball bat and then denying it.
He steps back, he widens his eyes, he drops his jaw, and he reaches for a line that has worked beautifully for him.
Mr. Obama says that FDR or Lincoln or Reagan did it. He is not sure which, but it definitely was one of those icons to whom he keeps comparing himself.
Back in the 1970s, Flip Wilson, at least, was honest. He said, “The devil made me do it.” He made us laugh. Mr. Obama makes us cry out.
