You’ll notice we took a breather last week. That’s only because politics stops at the oceans’ edge, and though he’s failed to stem their rise our sense of jurisdictional fair play meant we could only admire our favorite foe from afar as he shot the breeze in the Netherlands, rocked away in Brussels, turned saintly in Rome, and bowed very low in Riyadh. He was especially memorable at the Vatican, where like a regular Johnny Appleseed he bestowed the fruits of the White House vegetable patch on his kindly host, giving rise to comparisons of our nation’s leader to a not so fictional political maven, Chance the Gardener.
And then he rushed back home, and the nation rallied to his side, signing up for the hands-on care only he can provide, even if that means waiting in line for days with no expectation there’ll be any cupcakes left after the line thins. But so what. It’s not going to thin. The debate is over, he reminded us, and his soaring ratings confirm the profundity of his pronouncement. Will he ever forgive us for ever doubting him? (Of course.) Will we ever forgive ourselves for doubting him? (Probably not.) Truth be told, he’s always made it crystal clear that there can be no debating any of his diktats. Greatness precludes disagreement, obstructionism, opposition. In other words, meanwichy smallness and stingburgery pettiness.
In conclusion, we’re grateful to him for venturing abroad and gifting us with an unexpected opportunity to acquire a fresh perspective on his multidimensional qualities. Will we retain enough character to rise above those easy temptations to return to business as usual? It will be tricky, now that the Supremes have ruled we can spend all we want and be bought for even greater sums if that’s what we prefer. Our hat is extended to all comers, and we’ll happily provide our bank’s routing number if you prefer to enrich us more discreetly via wire transfers.
We’ll be in good company. On advice from their corporate sponsors, the Boston Red Sox compounded their World Series winnings in a White House appearance with the nation’s leading sports fan and job creator, at least for the likes of Samsung, which doesn’t sound like an American company. Stephen Colbert will tweet us if we’re in any way off base.
Wedding crashing has become passé, but the funeral crashing its Hollywood proponents also championed is finally catching on. Of course, it took a political giant to show the way, as we saw a week ago in Upperville, Virginia, in the heart of hunt country, where a cur by the name of former Sen. John Edwards materialized unabashed at the funeral of the 103 year-old woman from whom he had shaken out a $700,000 political donation that Edwards used to quiet his mistress and mother of their crying baby. He doesn’t understand the controversy — the deceased after all was only 98 at the time. Even Bill Clinton never tried something like that (we think), and he’s the one expecting visitors from outer space any day now.
Meanwhile, America has lost the services of a major presence from another planet. Piers Morgan has flying saucered his way back to his former home and left no forwarding address. According to his travel log, his stay in the U.S. had lasted “three years, two months, 11 days, and over 1,000 shows.” That may seem like a long visit, though in light years it’s as if he never existed. CNN’s ratings back us up on that score. So why even discuss him? No, not to please the NRA or the skeet shooter lobby. In this case, it’s because he’s a perfect opening act for our closing act.
Back where Piers is rumored to come from, the lowest form of a lowlife is called a blackguard. Don’t ask, don’t tell, but it rhymes with braggart. We don’t use that word in America, where it would be considered hurtful. So we can’t really apply it to the likes of former Senator Edwards. Enemy of the Week will have to do. And blackguard he will remain.