When a sitting President is obliged to comment on a monumental event of the day, even though it was quite unrelated to his office, his words, typically, are as a dull as watching twin zits grow on a liberal’s face.
President Obama, however, nailed my attention on Saturday during his otherwise shrug-off comments on Gabrielle Giffords when he used a very un-Obama phrase. He said the mass shootings were a tragedy for “our country.”
From Washington to Bush II, the after-burner phrase “our country” has rolled off their tongues as tenderly, as lovingly, even as unthinkingly, as married chaps acknowledge “my wife.”
Such a presumed rhetorical staple has halted, though, with Swishie, as numerous important other traditions have committed suicide during the fallow two years of his administration.
He Fights Temptation
“Our country” crawls down Swishie’s tongue as if he were confessing to his in-laws that he had cheated on Mad Michelle with Snooki.
He would sooner kiss a Republican or put in a decent day’s work than to publicly admit “our country.”
From my observation post for the last 24 months, I believe he feels more like a visitor than a fixture in America. He is as uncomfortable selling or representing America as he is owning up to his socialist beliefs or his affiliations with the preacher Jeremiah Wright or the aging American terrorist Bill Ayres.
If he were to exchange chairs for a month with David Cameron, the Tory Prime Minister of England, Swish would be no more and no less comfortable referring to the U.K. as “our country.”
In the legal sense, of course he is an American. In the emotional sense, he has not given even a nuanced sign that he is. He is pointedly uncomfortable referring so possessively to a country for which his affection is remote.
If Swish has demonstrated one strand of evidence that he feels an integral part of your country and mine since taking office, it has not been recorded by his lapdogs throughout the media.
Last week at the latimes.com, Andrew Malcolm noted that Swish boarded on Air Force One 172 days last year, meaning that he was flying off somewhere, anywhere, every other day of the 12 months.
Is He Comfortable Anywhere?
That sounds like a man who is extraordinarily uncomfortable in his chosen workplace. Gotta go someplace, do something, look engaged. He flits rather than travels.
The analog to his bizarre discomfort with forming the sentimental words “our country” is his compulsion for elaborately, bizarrely depicting our country’s historic shortcomings. Why does he practically crave his inferior national complex?
Why does he feel this compulsive need to criticize our country? While the answer rests with people much smarter than I, the President insistently places himself as an outsider.
Let us return to the marital model.
When you are introducing your spouse, if you are a normal person, you do not emulate the President whenever he is abroad and say “Fatso over there, the ugly broad sprawled over the end of the couch in the filthy dress, that is my wife.”
Yet that is how the most boorish, class-lacking President of modern times has repeatedly behaved when visiting overseas with foreign dignitaries. Why?
