The opening lines of Keith Koffler’s recent effort in Politico just missed the mark:
“President Barack Obama, fresh from his drubbing in the 2010 midterms, is trying to revive his fortunes by pursuing a path toward the middle.”
At least he got the “drubbing” part right. But Obama is about as likely to steer toward the so-called “middle” as Paul Krugman is to admit that Obamacare will require death panels. (Oops. Spoke too soon.)
Koffler’s piece, entitled “Freudian Slips May Haunt Obama” is actually a marginally astute examination of Barack Obama — Unplugged, and the routinely unfortunate circumstances he creates for his liberal accomplices through unscripted revelations of his true nature.
Koffler actually does a bit of a soft-shoe on Obama’s tendency toward verbal diarrhea. But his recounting of the lowlights of Obama’s lamentable tenure in the White House does spell out in black and white this revelation:
He may be shrewd, even clever; but Barack Obama is no more intellectually supercharged than Joe Biden’s hair plugs.
For all the port-side travelers who took such delight in mocking the brainpower of George W. Bush, chew on this: Obama is far from brilliant. He’s a manufactured genius, a fictional savior, cut from whole cloth. He’s a talking haircut, a speech-making savant. The liberally reviled Bush is a Jeffersonian polymath compared to this mendacious marionette.
Despite the best efforts of Obama’s handlers, his occasional ventures off script have not only required a universal liberal whitewash, they’ve also given us an unedited glimpse at the real Barack Obama.
This is the Alinsky-ite babbler who thinks that his political opponents are “enemies” whom he exhorts his liberal acolytes to fear far more than the illegal aliens, Islamofacists and outright communists he works so hard to appease.
He’s the lout who derides his fellow Americans who “cling to their guns and religion.” Of course, only reactionary psychopaths openly celebrate that pesky Bill of Rights.
He’s the “shovel-ready” leftist shaman who’s obviously as familiar with hard work as Charlie Rangel is with Jenny Craig.
During the 2008 Presidential campaign, he encountered Samuel Joseph “Joe the Plumber” Wurzelbacher, to whom he proclaimed:
“I think when you spread the wealth around…it’s good for everybody.”
That’s Das Kapital for Dummies. Liberals reacted to the exchange by crucifying Wurzelbacker. Few noted that the economic battle of wits between Joe and Barack was like the New York Giants squaring off with the local junior high school… cheerleaders.
I could continue to recount examples of tragicomic ineptitude which has become the stock in trade for Obama, but I have to take the President’s advice and find a seat in “the back of the bus” with my “Slurpee.”
Koffler notes what he calls Obama’s “cool opaqueness” and suggested he might be an “elitist.” Obama is not opaque, he’s vacuous. Whether he’s calling the majority of Arizonans racist — and ratting them out to the United Nations like a 5-year-old tattling to mommy — or bowing down to some America-hating tin-pot, his actions suggest a nearly comprehensive lack of awareness.
And he’s no elitist. His gourmet meals with Oprah, plush sojourns to the Subcontinent and endless tee times may make us yearn for Bush’s brush-clearing misadventures; but his lavish lifestyle in the face of economic hard times for his constituents suggests he’s an elitist wannabe.
The Kennedys are elitists. Having personally trod the perfectly manicured grounds of their palatial Hyannis Port homestead, I can assure you that — despite their “people of the people” act — the Kennedys only allow folks like Obama through the gates to re-line the tennis courts and fish campaign volunteers out from under the bridge at Edgartown. Overtly public displays of excess are so gauche.
Let’s be honest; if Jack Ryan had kept his hands to himself (or been a Democrat, where that sort of behavior amongst Senators is acceptable), Obama would probably be helping ACORN teach Chi-town hookers how to qualify for Clintoncare.
Obama is part Chauncey Gardner in Being There — unintentionally blessed by incredible serendipity; and part Tom Grunick in Broadcast News — a creepy savant, able to regurgitate impressive talking points without seeming comprehension of their depth or consequence. He can mime emotional reaction, but only in the rote manner employed by Asperger’s sufferers.
But the White House is not a back lot at one of Obama’s Hollywood pals’ studios. And our national plight, clearly beyond the meager capabilities of our Commander-in-Chief, is no cinematic epic. Sadly, at the end of the Obama version of Being There, the clueless hero doesn’t walk on water — he falls in.
And we all drown.