I wrote a different column at first. It was reasonably lighthearted, as I wanted to avoid being excessively morose following President Barack Obama’s re-election. It had some cute little one-off gags about the Senate win by Elizabeth Warren and her fake Cherokee cheekbones and Representative Jesse Jackson Jr. winning a landslide in his Illinois Congressional race despite making his father look like a Franciscan monk while Junior hides from investigators in a Minnesota hospital room.
But I don’t have it in me to be my usual sunny self. I am morose. I’m as sad as a homeless guy who just found out the Democrats pay only for votes; and that, tomorrow, he’ll be back to counting cans for the recycling deposits. I am so confused by my country from time to time. I understand the allure of the Obama life. Food, clothing, money, healthcare, Jay-Z tickets and cellphones are all free. Work is a thing of the past, as is responsibility. It’s always someone else’s job to make sure you’re covered. The politics of ease are a powerful drug.
But I like being free. I love it. I love that I can point out that the leader of the country is a profligate liar without being shot, beaten or sent to the gulag for it. I love that I can discuss the crimes he has committed and will commit in his insatiable quest for power without black helicopters descending on my house. I even enjoy the fact that Democratic sock puppets can party themselves into an even deeper stupor than usual after their icon’s victory, despite the fact that they’ve sold their country into slavery in doing so. And if I have to pay for creature comforts with my own cash, then so be it. It sure beats living in one of those sad, gray little dictatorships like North Korea.
And I’m not fleeing the country. I’m not one of those uber-wealthy Hollywood clowns who promises emigration to the nearest convenient tax shelter in the Caribbean every time my guy takes one on the chin. Even if I end up being the last man standing in a country overrun by liberal filth and their idiot minions, I’ll be damned if they’re going to run me off. I survived eight years of Bill Clinton’s dough-faced dishonesty; I can survive eight years of Obama’s mealy-mouthed mendacity.
Clinton was a liar and a reprobate, but at least he was fun about it. I never got the sense from Clinton that he hated me (though I did from his wife). Obama hates me. He also hates most of you. Close to 50 percent of the Nation no-voted Obama, and he despises them for it. He despises their God and their guns. He reviles their refusal to knuckle under to socialist nightmares like Obamacare. Clinton may have been a screwball, but at least you knew he could hold his liquor and might be fun to party with. Obama is a living, breathing archetype of the effete elitism that has turned the Democratic Party into the national disgrace it has become. Democrats aren’t better than we are, but they think they are and they act accordingly. Witness Obama’s casual mendacity on Benghazi, Libya, and Operation Fast and Furious. Furthermore, witness his comfort in skirting the law with “executive orders.” He rules by fiat — like some kind of sideshow emperor.
Obama’s re-election is bad news for America. But we’ve received bad news before, and we will again. As the returns rolled toward Obama last night, I comforted a pal by suggesting that while Obama’s re-election may be a hurricane of horror for liberty, the storm surge might help to wash the shore clean for 2014’s House and Senate elections. We made it to 2012; we can survive to 2016. When my friend suggested I was trying to put lipstick on the proverbial pig, I offered another outcome:
It’s 2012. If the Mayans were right, then none of this matters much.