The state of the union, Madam Speaker, is unsound.
No, we haven’t forgotten. For a time matters were dicey — the White House was threatening to nationalize the Enemy sector. Then came the proverbial “we have met the Enemy and it is” — fooled you there — “Bush.” But try telling that to the good folks who attended the Dallas Cowboys’ playoff game last Saturday night. Those watching on NBC weren’t told that a huge cheer went up for the former president when he was shown on the big screen enjoyably watching the game in the owner’s box. But readers of the authoritative Dallas Morning News were informed of that political outburst. So if the Cowboys are back, and Bush is back, and Jay Leno too, so is the Enemy of the Year.
First let’s settle on who it won’t be. It can’t be Harry Reid, who as always is being misquoted. In that Navajo dialect of his, he said “thin-skinned,” not “light-skinned.” He remains thick-headed, true, calling up Al Sharpton to apologize when surely he meant to be calling his bookie.
It won’t be Nancy Pelosi, who no matter how hard she tries isn’t getting any younger. She has suffered enough and in any case lacks the essentials to contend for a prestigious political prize.
Nor can it be Christopher Dodd, who lost his best friend last year, underwent a life-altering operation, and has now removed himself from electoral consideration. It’s safe to say he’ll be quickly forgotten countrywide, even if Countrywide is all we remember about him. Ditto Byron Dorgan, of whom it’ll never really be known whether he represented North or South Dakota, two far-away states about which we know nothing, especially at a time of year when no one up there dares go outside. John Edwards has handled his north-south duality with greater skill, having been born in South Carolina, elected in North Carolina, and exposed in the northern part of southern California. Now it’s reported his wife is calling him a monster, which is one of the nicer things anyone has ever said about him. Marriage counseling would seem to be in order.
Least but not alas last is our current Vice President, who claimed to have the goods on his future boss well before Harry Reid pretended to, and who for his troubles has pretty much disappeared from the face of the earth, even from the back of milk cartons. What’s going on here — Joe Biden silenced? Perhaps he will resurface in Yemen, if ever transparency is restored to Gitmo. As luck would have it, TSA’s X-ray vision lines will be the closest our ruling regime can come to bringing transparency to its policies.
The beauty of the current political set up is that what you don’t see is what you get. A stimulus bill to nowhere. Global warming amid record cold. Bipartisan politics under one-party rule. Millions of saved jobs despite worsening unemployment. Growing American prestige in a world ever more disdainful of the U.S. and its very existence.
To add insult to season-ending injury, the ruling administration is now taking its cues from a football team on the skids. We saw over the weekend the once mighty New England Patriots get mugged in their own backyard. They were led, if that is the word, by a quarterback who is now best known as the jock who left his pregnant girlfriend for a model. Needless to say, the cad is now playing at a level he last displayed in college, where no one thought to make him a fulltime starter. Before you could say hut one, hut two, one of the administration’s jocks, OMB director Peter Orszag, was doing the same blasted thing (no, not with the Patriot QB’s women, but same difference). And both the New York Times and Washington Post thought he was the cat’s meow. We won’t add to Orszag’s notoriety any further, not here, not now, not in public view.
We prefer to snag someone unsuspecting, even likable, but who nonetheless must answer for larger institutional sins. We all recall how Saturday Night Live’s Tina Fey steve-schmidted the sensational Sarah Palin upon her political ascension. By contrast, the Prophet O was depicted as a very cool God by the show’s Fred Armisen. Lately, though, increasingly so, Armisen has demonstrated a certain impatience in his depiction of the Holy President. And so Armisen’s delivery has become increasingly clipped, curt, even downright snippy. Fair enough. What we didn’t expect is that President Obama’s remarks in public would increasingly sound like an imitation of Armisen imitating him. You kind of get the sense Our President knows he’s in over his ears.
As an untouchable, he is also immune from our ignoble offerings. And so, in singular Obamarama fashion, it must be Mr. Fred Armisen who gets thrown under the bus, an EOY for all seasons. It’s no ordinary bus — this one’s a mean clean, green-powered machine, a proven job creator, at least at Enemy Central, which can now afford to hire its own driver and street cleaner. Keep ‘em coming, Lord President. See you next year.
A man of faith in a godless age is hitting Americans where it hurts.
Mr. and Mrs. American Spectator Reader, let P.J. O’Rourke talk sense to your kids.
In Britain, defending your property can get you life.
The debacle of this president’s administration is both a cause and a symptom of the decline of American values. Unless Congress impeaches him, that decline will go on unchecked. An eminent jurist surveys the damage and assesses the chances for the recovery of our culture.
It won’t take long for conservatives to scratch this presidential wannabe off their 2008 scorecard.
The American Christmas, like the songs that celebrate it, makes room for everybody under the rainbow. Is that why so many people seem to be hostile to it?
Was the President done in by the economy, or by the politics of the economy?