While James Holmes can take heat for gunning down 12 innocents in an Aurora movie theatre last July 23, even liberals must concede that Holmes Sweet Holmes’s timing was beautiful.
Mr. Holmes committed his heinous deed at the height of His Royal Vagueness’s re-election campaign.
He avoided a loopy lecture on national television from the Naddering Nabob of Numbness, he who thinks compassion is a circular fruit.
In the middle of last summer, our favorite Rhetorical Repeat Rifle, the President of the United States, was too busy pandering, furiously bending the rules to give outrageous breaks to his favorite illegal aliens, welfare kings and queens, gay extreme activists and labor union hooligans to seduce them into voting for him.
Can You Guess His Talent?
Devoid of curiosity, humorless, averse to thinking beyond the surface, when told of the Colorado massacre, witless President One-Note said he thought Aurora was Mr. Borealis’s wife’s name.
Adam Lanza was not as lucky as Mr. Holmes.
Drat. Mr. Lanza caught the President between vacations, between campaigns.
Unfortunately, he was available to pontificate with puerile primitiveness.
At least Newtown gave the President a tempting opportunity to climb out of his six-year rut of delivering 3,500 consecutive speeches on making the rich pay their fair share while redistributing their wealth to the gainfully unemployed recipients of food stamps.
Even though he happily managed to change the subject, President Gasbag, as is his wont, skillfully said nothing for the 3,600th straight time last night in Connecticut.
Specificity is the dreaded enemy of his crayon-level mind. A stiff, cardboard personality, he doesn’t know better. Without a teleprompter, he would be a factory worker. He is a political animal, his lone acknowledged gift.
His deepest thoughts could be apprehended and comprehended by an average second grader.
Oooh, the Thought Pains Me
The spectre of this single-dimension man spending two hours comforting (?) the grieving families of Newtown makes me shiver. The scenario supplies more fodder for late-night comedians than it does conjure up visions of an empathic delegate.
You will recall that all last spring, all last summer, all autumn he failed to outline a plan for his second term, beyond pledging to check in with Washington every couple of days. Every budget he has submitted has been unanimously rejected. He can’t explain – only repeat – himself on all matters fiscal.
Never known to have given birth to an original concept, President One-Note did not disappoint. Since announcing for the White House in February 2007, his dust-dry, recycled speeches have been best written in the wind. Not worth memorizing. Like throwing jello at a wall and driving a spike through it. Ain’t nothing there.
He Is an Unoccupied Vessel – or Vassal
The only departure last evening was that – probably phonily – he sounded more personal, more possessive of America than he normally does. Most of the time he walks about with both fists doubled, shoved so deeply into each pocket they almost punch gaping holes.
When it comes to ideas, talking points, the emotionally absent leader takes his cues from the lowest rungs of our society.
On Saturday, 80 of the dimmest residents of Brooklyn, of all places, turned in their guns. Why, eh why? This rated a salute from National Public Radio. Predictable. Like the rest of the nutty gun control crowd, their collective act was throbbing with meaninglessness, which paves a nifty segue into President Gasbag’s latest hollow oratory.
His mantra: Say nothing while trying to sound eloquent.
The empty suit whom many idolize once again last evening entered a room and departed without leaving an imprint.
Remembering that this slow thinker repeatedly – when not campaigning or on vacation – has called for stiff gun control laws, he actively pooh-poohed the idea this time.
“No single law, no set of laws can eliminate evil from the world,” he said. “But that can’t be an excuse for inaction.”
Barack. Baby. Pal. Friend of mine.
What he probably intended to say was, Don’t just do something. Stand there.
The President guessed right when he saw laws won’t cure evil.
The solution to diminishing the evil of young men committing massacres is, of course, far more complicated, a hundred miles removed from a government-sponsored law.
But this is the kind of cerebral concept that successfully has eluded Our Dear Leader, lo, these 51 years. He should return to his needlepoint hobby.
