Lord, is Sam Anderson's recent New York magazine spread on Barack Obama's
ability to talk real pretty-like a piece of work!

Like America
itself, [Obama is] addicted to origin myths. He's built his political success
on the back of compulsive autobiography, the brilliant telling and retelling,
and then retelling some more, of his divinely unorthodox life story: the great
sweeping legend of Obamerica, the fusion of man and nation, whose manifest
destiny extends all the way to the White House. 

This, apparently, explains why his legislative record is
pretty thin gruel: It must be difficult to moonlight as a senator when
you're day job is going through the no doubt painful process of fusing yourself to the nation formerly known as the United States.
(Welcome to Obamerica, please enjoy the complimentary compulsive
autobiography.) Also, since the term "manifest destiny" is back in vogue, I'm happy to hear the Canadians are so
jazzed on Obama. NAFTA will have to be renegotiated when you're absorbed in
Greater Obamerica, friends. More:

It's significant that he used his first appearance in the
national spotlight, the keynote speech at Kerry's DNC, to meta-sketch the
inspirational origin of that very keynote speech: "Let's face it, my presence on
this stage is pretty unlikely," he said, and then unleashed, in about 60
seconds, a pithy intergenerational family saga spanning three continents and
all the major events of mid-twentieth-century America (Depression, Pearl
Harbor, postwar boom)–complete with such unlikely details as goat herding, a
tin-roof shack, oil rigs, and Patton's army marching across Europe. It was like
a brilliant movie trailer designed to promote the incalculably awesome feature
attraction of his future political career. To deny his candidacy, after that,
would be to deny a very powerful narrative logic–the goats, the tin-roof shack,
Patton, all of it.

This sounds like the rantings of an overbearing salesman: If you want the goats and Patton, you're
going to have to take the Obama–and trust me: You want the goats and Patton. They
really tie the room of the national tin-roof shack together. And later: 

My relationship to Obama has been a complex cycle of
enthusiasm canceled immediately by self-correcting cynical objections, canceled
by self-correcting enthusiasm, canceled again by the cynicism, canceled by the
enthusiasm. 

I guess I'm starting to see why people faint at Obama
rallies. Hope…make…brain…huuuurt.