Unless you are retired or unemployed, you probably don’t have sufficient time to digest and closely analyze the serious stories of the day in your favorite daily newspapers.
If our tracking system is accurate, President (I Love Fulminating About the Hot Stories of the Day) Obama, a perfect candidate for a truckload of ADHD meds every evening before dinner, has not publicly mentioned that filthy four-letter word – jobs – one time in the nearly two months since Newtown.
Shoot, if it hadn’t been for Newtown, our dedicated, globe-trotting leader probably would have wiped out unemployment so thoroughly that by now you could choose a different high-paying job for every day of the week for the rest of your life.
Didn’t He Promise?
Even voters with crippled memories will recall that Mr. Obama – or his double – campaigned on restoring the millions of fulltime jobs that have been lost since he entered the White House 48½ months ago.
As Mad Michelle and his girls know, Daddy is more easily distracted than a 5-year-old at the circus.
Throughout last year, every journalist’s favorite day was the first Friday morning of each month. Just before dawn Pacific time, the semi-phony employment data from the Labor Dept. – run then but no longer by his affirmative action hire Hilda (I Feel So Hispanic Today) Solis from East L.A. – was reported, typically to blaring celebratory music.
Last Friday, tt was mumbled rather than announced that, um, ahem, cough-cough, the national unemployment rate has risen to 7.9 percent.
To offset the hiccup reporting of this glum news, the reliably alert White House released a carefully staged photo of the President said to be practicing his skeet shooting.
Who knew?
Even Mad didn’t.
Heretofore, Swish’s artillery talents had been as deeply buried in old sacred Injun grounds as his college grades, his childhood, his young adulthood, his drug habits, his dating habits, his political radicalism, his pathological imperfections, his religious beliefs and his political beliefs other than his predictable romance with the Hot Story Du Jour.
Obama Pattern Is So Reliable
How do we know that he is a left-wing Democrat with socialist instincts?
Because instead of soberly plunging into a grownup subject such as the national tragedy of ongoing job losses – an area where progress actually could be tracked – he fell for the razzle-dazzle.
Again.
He jumped onto amorphous, insoluble Newtown and cooked up a 100 percent phony drama.
As the owner of a mind with modest borders, he may not know that in a country of 330 million, it is impossible to prevent such events, as every child over the age of four will attest.
Mr. Obama’s mind, frequently unoccupied by demanding matter, is drawn to bright, shiny objects, regardless of worthlessness.
Except for the families involved and the hometown community, it really is not anyone else’s business, unless it is to mourn with the survivors.
Mr. Obama’s obsession, his maddening pulltoy, has been a puerile non-sequiter.
He resembles a tyke romping in a sandbox.
Liberals like Mr. Obama hate being observed and measured by their works.
Hollow glitz, blanketed in sparkles, is their toy of choice.
They prefer vast, abstract landscapes like climate change, gun control, the Environmental Protection Agency, the field of green energy – goofy topics, too vague to be even remotely manageable.
Then, a narcissist such as Mr. Obama can shake his rattler, a signal for staff and journalistic underlings to come running.
“Boys,” barks the President, “we are off to Minneapolis today so I can pound my chest over the impressive (non-existent) progress we are making on gun control.”
They genuflect, kiss his ring and, in lockstep, board Air Force One.
Cue to video of three-legged dog chasing car, catching it, and then bafflingly staring at the rear fender in stunned silence.
