I do so love the scent of autumn. The crisp air is rich with the essence of nature’s fireworks, mingling delicately in the breeze with burning logs in happy homes, potpourri cooking on kitchen stoves… and the body odor of overeducated-yet-underinformed college students, their pseudo-academic professors, bloated millionaire and billionaire Democratic donors and fading Hollywood cretins. But noisome as the so-called “occupiers” may be, they’re about as novel a political movement as the Soviet Politburo.
Meanwhile, the redolence of brainless adolescents, ivory tower refugees, babbling Hollywood players and the billionaire liberal hypocrites who bankroll operations like the “Occupy” movement is made all the more rank by another stench: pure political desperation.
During a Sunday afternoon speech, President Barack Obama, who has been blowing kisses to the occupiers from across the political room, began playing the un-neutered puppy to the occupy movement’s exposed leg. Obama faces public dissatisfaction rivaling the sad days of Jimmy Carter’s Presidency: an economy his party has thrown into the deep end chained to a cinder block, a scandal-ridden cabinet whose peccadilloes include a gunrunning operation which involved more dead bodies than a Kennedy road trip, and a crowning achievement — Obamacare — which is dying like a sick old man denied care by a death panel.
The President needs help. He needs votes. He needs someone other than the sideshow freaks on MSNBC to take him seriously. So on Sunday afternoon, Obama turned to the only group of people silly enough to consider voting for his re-election and said he “…will continue to acknowledge the (occupier) frustration that he himself shares… if asking a billionaire to pay the same tax rate as a plumber, a teacher or a bus driver makes me a warrior for the middle class, I will wear that charge with honor.”
Begging the President’s pardon, but to which “frustration” might he be referring? He knocks down close to a half-million dollars a year in salary, dines regularly with billionaire entertainment magnates like Oprah Winfrey and is guaranteed the lifetime of easy excess granted to ex-Presidents. He has ascended the loftiest heights of political fortune in a remarkably short time despite a lack of meaningful experience, and he is backed by a king’s ransom paid by the same people the so-called “occupiers” claim to revile. He’s as attuned to the daily travails of average Americans as Nancy Pelosi is to the sort of real work done by “plumbers.”
And his claim to represent the self-and-grossly-inaccurately-monikered “99%” is laughable. Unless he is doing his taxes the same way Secretary of the Treasury Geithner did his, he is firmly planted in the “1%.” And why not wear the “1%” label like a badge of honor? That 1 percent covers close to 40 percent of the nation’s tax bill each year. Nevertheless, whether one employs the Obama litmus test of owning a corporate jet or earning more than $200,000 per year, Obama is very much one of the occupiers’ hated by “them.”
I suppose he should count himself lucky that the average “occupier” is about as astute as the sheep in the back of the flock. Furthermore, he enjoys the undying fealty of the corporate media, who have simultaneously offered both him and the occupiers underserved legitimacy. Add to that the fact that his party’s money and influence has turned what might have been a voice against injustice into the America-hating, flag-defiling, epithet-hurling asylum the Tea Party was wrongly accused of being, and he has a clear strategy: Identify himself with the Fleabagger mob and beg for their votes.
He may well pull off this “man of the people” charade, although I suspect he’s going to be disappointed that the “occupiers” don’t represent 99 percent of anyone except the audience at the Bonnaroo music festival. And he’s not fooling me for an instant; I can smell him from here.