Everyone’s scolding our president for passing up a golden opportunity to participate in his one-millionth photo-op since 2008. But it’s not his fault. No one made him a serious offer. Had Republicans been less obstructionist they would have asked a certain blonde Danish prime minister to intervene. “Mr. President,” she would have purred, “do please join me for a selfie along the Rio Grande.” It’s not enough that they’ll always have Johannesburg. Before you know it, we’d have seen them splashing and frolicking in the river’s borderline waters, pursuing full immersion in the immigration crisis. Michelle, we assume, would have come along as chaperone and lifeguard. Afterward, the president would have appeared before the press, still dressed in dripping trunks and life vest. Summer is supposed to be about fun.
Enemy of the Week
His place in history assured — or at least in post-World War II history, as befits a nation largely unaware that anything preceded its idea of the Big Bang — our president is settling into his Quinnipiac-confirmed role as worst U.S. president in living memory. It’s a terrific honor actually, a salute to a leader who has displayed both vision and valor.
Call John Koskinen a late bloomer. According to records on our hard drive before we crashed it, he is 74 years old, thirty-three days short of the magical 75. Before he caught Paul Ryan’s attention, we had never heard of him. Now he’s unanimous victor in the EOW sweepstakes. Such insolence, such arrogance, such contempt for all humanity we had not seen in a public official since the last time we paid attention to those who escaped from the losing side of World War II to some friendly dictatorship in the southern parts of South America and got caught. Is it any surprise that the Koskinen soccer stadium at Duke University is named after him? Wonder where he picked up his expertise in soccer?
Hillary’s on another one of her listening tours and so we have no choice but to listen. So tune in we have, and what did we hear? A lot of two-worders including a revival of her favorite two-word phrase: “you know.” You know, when she’s at her profoundest and dead broke. If Ray Charles were her ventriloquist, she would have said, “I’m busted.” (Not to be confused with any drug raid that’s been erased from her records.) Or as Bill, channeling Charles himself, always wanted to tell her during their co-presidency, “I’m gonna send you back to Arkansas.” So tell your mama, tell your pa, dear readers: “What’d I say” is shaping up to be the theme of her solo presidency.
Finally we have confirmation of the old saw that history repeats itself as farce. A joyous Susan Rice has shown the way, going on a Sunday show to prattle the official line that “Sgt.” Bowe Bergdahl “served the United States with honor and distinction.” She really was insistent in that way she has that her stating something makes its it true. Some might say she wasn’t really repeating history because this time she went on only one Sunday show, not five of them. In other words, she went AWOL after the first show. But others see strange symbolism and symmetry, the one vs. five combination corresponding to the one for five swap pulled off with the big bang Taliban. And let’s not overlook a similar video connection — this time featuring one intended to offend non-Muslim sensibilities in its depiction of “Sgt.” Bergdahl’s final moments among his captors.
Secretary Shinseki worried too much. Nothing bad will happen now that he's resigned. President Obama will continue to love him. Look at the above photo. Have you ever seen truer affection? It was taken on May 3, at the White House Correspondents’ dinner, some twenty-four days after Secretary Sibelius (she’s the one in the silvery dress and hair) resigned in what one thought was national disgrace. There’s no such thing anymore, at least in certain circles. In fact, we bet Mr. Shinseki will be Mr. Obama’s date at next year’s Correspondents’ dinner. Our photographers are on stand-by.
The Rev. Wright wasn’t around, so our leader found a worthy substitute, the great DB Richard Sherman, visiting the White House along with other Super Bowl winning Seattle Seahawks to receive full presidential honors and lessons on leadership and teamwork. But not before “Sherman” was singled out for his mic work. That was a knowing reference to the trash talk little Richard engaged in upon securing his team’s playoff win against hated San Francisco. The sort of talk and taunting that remains as classless as that when Muhammad Ali bullied a fighter he’d just knocked out. The very kind of behavior our president regards as the stuff of good sportsmanship. He just loves Sherman & Co.’s “Legion of Boom” defense.
The war on womyn continues apace, the product of so-called friendly fire. There was the recent reemergence of that woman, Ms. Lewinsky, all of it premised on the delicious delusion that she had been the only other woman in the love of her life’s life. For her troubles, she was promptly smacked down by the bewitchy likes of Maureen Dowd and Ruth Marcus, aka David Brooks’ occasional partner… on PBS. Ms. Tina Brown joined in, spewing volcanic hate. She always did like it hot. The consensus — Ms. Lewinsky had cleared the air. The wronged wife would no longer have to worry about her as she proceeded toward coronation in January 2017.
He was supposed to be the flavor of the millennium, but now he’s having trouble remaining the taste of the day. We take a dollop of credit. Last week Ms. Maureen Dowd took top EOW honors. Her rehabilitation was swift. Looking at him now she smells a loser. She can’t stand his thin skin. “[Y]ou convey the sense that any difference on substance is lèse-majesté,” she tells him as she subjects him to her own patented form of that French word for dissing someone. “[You] are the American president,” she reminds him, not the singles hitter he’s now content to pretend to be. “Truculent passivity,” she calls it. A 90-lb. weakling, in other words. Oh, and don’t torment us with any more of your empty speeches, she warns him, because “we’re speeched out.” Then presumably she yanks out his tonsils and vocal chords. Let’s see how quickly he learns to sign. Is there a teleprompter that can handle that?
Our leader is many times zones away and thus in no condition to respond to reports of new discrepancies in the Obamacare body count. When last he calculated he came up with the figure of 8.1 million. Now at least 2.7 million of those Obamacarriers have gone missing. They may never find a doctor they like enough to keep.
Our leader is hanging tough on other pressing matters. His old friend Vlad is now charging Ukraine with acting criminally for defending its sovereignty. Leader has responded by reminding the Impaler that he has other sanctions “teed up” and ready to be hooked or sliced, depending on the mood of his swing and the technological prowess of his driver. As these things go, those sanctions could end up in the woods or a water hazard. What’s the penalty for landing out of bounds in international play?