Over breakfast this morning, it occurred that the next Republican White House nominee has no time to relax — or even to sleep.
The hands of the clock are swinging faster than the last Obama jet wings out of Washington every morning en route to the next exotic foreign destination.
The lucky GOP candidate, she or he, better hurry up and get elected, starting tonight. That way, by stepping on the alternative gas, he or she can begin absorbing a fat share of the richly deserved Republican blame for the unprecedented mess that What’s-His-Name blindly has plunged America into.
Disaster after disaster has rolled down the crumbling mountainside like an world-class avalanche, and the left-wing media scrambles into a huddle and says “Shhhh.”
The President’s lies and drastic, schoolboyish miscalculations have been covered up faster than a mass grave.
In fact, they are a mass grave, and Swish is the undertaker.
But he will not pay a price. That projection can be colored gold this afternoon.
This has been the quietest administration since the last deaf mute convention.
C’mon, boys.
In the melancholy bygone era of normal Presidents —from Mr. Washington to Mr. Bush II — the unlucky cad in the White House during a disaster was held responsible by voters for his blundering policies.
Not this administration.
Pre-Obama, normal Presidents would have had little hope of winning re-election in 2012 because America is in amazing economic disarray.
Mr. Obama, however, is virtually odds-on to defeat any combination the Republicans can think up next year.
He is safer, better protected, than Assad, Ghadafy or any other Muslim Clarabelle the Tyrant you can find hiding out in the Middle East.
The left-wing media apologists, spanning 98 percent of the journalist world, print and electronic, have had his back since he stepped onto this son of privilege entered from stage left. And stayed there, as if he were a potted plant.
I guarantee you cannot find a left-wing commentator of stature who will acknowledge any of our present economic wreckage was caused or exacerbated by What’s-His-Name.
The teeth-gritting liberal media guard What’s-His-Name more fanatically than they would their own infants in a snowstorm.
Their daily creed is immutable:
The President is black, and any criticism of him or his policies will be interpreted as racist.
Horridly unfunny, it is no joke.
Two weekends ago, U.S. Rep. Jim Clyburn (D-South Carolina) — No. 3-ranking Democrat — said, seriously, that all criticism of the President since his election can demonstrably be traced to his race.
The Obama agenda was carved into dripping wet Illinois cement four years ago last February when What’s-His-Name made his cleverly scripted dramatic debut on the national stage.
If anything, the media’s resolve is more resolute.
When economics advisor/academic Austin Goolsbee, another of the President’s groveling gurus, jumped overboard, Peter Nicholas, one of the hardline Amen boys from the Los Angeles Titanic, wrote this morning, with a straight face, Mr. Goolsbee is departing “just as the recovery is sputtering.”
And you wonder why once strong newspapers are failing faster than the President himself?
Red Skelton, Jack Benny and Bob Hope rolled together could not have thought of a funnier line.
Except the unfortunate Mr. Nicholas was reported sober when he thought up that phrase.
