Enemy of the Week

Stupid Stuff

Brought to you by the gang that couldn’t vacation straight.

By 8.15.14

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Okay, we’re not normally this nervous, but it’s not every week that we have a big date in the offing. Our leader has announced he plans to return to Washington, D.C. on Sunday for reasons yet to be divulged. Maybe he needs help for his addiction to golf. Maybe he needs to get away from all those rich folks of Martha’s Vineyard. Maybe he just needs to escape from Madam Hillary’s manic clutches. Or maybe, just perhaps, he wants to ask us for advice. Don’t know how we might help. He’s been exactly the man we knew he’d be from the moment he first set eyes on a teleprompter. Who are we to expect someone not to be true to himself?

Thursday was rough enough on him. He needed to say something meaningful about the situation in Missouri, and he couldn’t do it in between holes on the back nine. So chip away he did, cornering the market on bromides. Be nice, he warned. And that means you, police, and you, young looters, and let’s step back so we can step forward, because “there are going to be differences in terms of what needs to happen going forward.” Since he put it in those terms, we knew he’d add “that we’re all part of one American family.” Which must mean we’re all unhappy in our own miserable way. So are we going to find out on Sunday that he’s plans to welcome five to ten million new members to our family? Maybe that, or it’ll be about someone else entirely: namely, that he just wants us all to call her Auntie Michelle. Has a nice ring to it, you’ve got to admit.

Of course, there could be a third reason for his vacation interruptus: Meet the Press this Sunday will no longer be hosted by the estimable Mr. David Gregory. He’s gone the way of someone named Maliki. Will Mr. Obama be the unexpected guest moderator? Frankly, he’d be a lot better than Mr. D.G.’s announced successor, Mr. Chuck Todd, a political junkee and rumored to be the most exciting man in television news. We hope to see him arrested in Ferguson, Missouri, soon.

There’s no sitting still even during August vacation season. Madam Hillary autographed at least a thousand of her books for eager Martha’s Vineyard bookshop visitors. Word is her signature is undecipherable, which should make those copies of her book more challenging reading than those that escaped confrontation with its alleged author. A typical shopper was Ms. Lily Richards, a 17-year-old high school senior who back when Ms. Hillary was 17 years old would have done her weeping at a Beatles concert. “When I heard Hillary was going to be here, I literally started crying,” young Lily told a New York Times reporter. You would cry too if it happened to you.

Before her departure to Mr. Obama’s vacation zone, President-select Hillary dined and wined her presumed vice president, HUD Secretary and recent San Antonio Mayor Julian Castro, at her Washington home. No one knows much about him except that he attended Stanford, Chelsea Clinton’s alma mater as well, which should mean Julian and Hillary will have at least one thing to talk about. Of course, Mr. Castro has an identical twin, Joaquin, a Member of Congress in good standing. Much to the next first gentleman's disappointment, their names aren’t Juliana and Juanita. Regardless, an aide told the Washington Post, “The Clintons are keeping the Castros very close them.” Fidel and Raúl must finally be getting nervous. Welcome to the world of organizing principles.

So why don’t we let Julian Castro serve this week as our honorary EOW. He needs the name recognition. Though if he wants to be Joe Biden’s successor, he’s got to do something about his hair. Whatever happened to the blow-dried look?

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