The election of Barack Obama as president just might be the funniest tragedy-in-the-making in world history. As I watch the mainstream media cheerleaders who worked so diligently to elect him, (some pseudo/quasi “journalists” even seeing it as their job to help him) now watching him be exactly as he’s always been, and asking themselves, “my God, what have we done?” I can’t help but laugh. Whaddaya mean, “what have you done?” You’ve encouraged the majority of the voting public, as well as (let you tell it) the entire freaking world to elect a guy you studiously avoided finding anything out about. And, not only that, you didn’t let anybody else find anything out about him, either. He certainly wasn’t telling, and you guys in the MSM weren’t even curious about that.
There was a time when the surest way to get the media and press to investigate a guy was for that guy to act like he was hiding something. The only thing more certain to get their attention was for a guy to issue a “catch me if you can, na nanna na na,” challenge. Obama did both repeatedly, simply saying, “I’m not telling you anything,” whenever he was asked a question he didn’t like. Of course, he never said it directly, he usually just whined, “can’t I eat my waffle?” or “c’mon guys, I a’reddy answered like, what, eight questions?” and left. And our previously, notoriously nosy press corps said, “okay, everybody, he said, no,” and left, too. That was usually it. Oh, until the official Obama Denial Team issued an official Obama denial. Then that was really it.
“He says he’s not a Muslim, he just doesn’t listen in churches he’s not really interested in, unless going to them can advance his career.” “He said he doesn’t have any records from the Illinois senate.” “He said his dad was a British subject, but he’s a natural born citizen.” “He told us he went to Columbia, he got into Harvard, he must be smart. We don’t need to see his transcripts.” On and on it went, every question answered in the press with “The Obama Camp Issues A Denial, That’s Good Enough For Us!” headlines. “Of course he doesn’t ‘pal around with‘ terrorists who just happen to live down the block and used to work with him a lot. He’s only eight years old, and they’re not terrorists anymore, and anyway, he’s got a lot of friends, so what?” “What’s it to you if he wrote letters for a guy who’s going to jail and let people freeze in houses our guy helped him buy? Yeah, they had a deal on his own house but, gee whiz, it’s no big deal.” “He answered eight questions and now lookit, his waffle’s cold! See what you did?” I’ve heard of “Big Brother” but this kind of over-protective, surrogate parent role for the media is a little much, even for Orwell.
Now, this stellar press/media industry is amazed that people don’t trust them anymore. Go figure. Even people who allowed themselves to be brainwashed by the bullshit they spewed resent them. And now, these brilliant wordsmiths, pundits, analysts, commentators and investigators seem bewitched, bothered and befuddled by their own bullshit.
Funny as hell.
Here’s a newsflash fuh ya. You shamelessly promoted a hologram of a Pet Rock/Mr. Potato Head. He’s admitted to being a “Rorschach test” and a “blank screen,” and you guys projected constantly shifting images of everybody from Ghandi to Elvis to Martin Luther King to JFK/Lincoln/Roosevelt/God to Kermit the Frog and Norman Rockwell’s granny on him and pretended there was a “there there.” Well, there, there, honey, there ain’t no “there.” And those of you who are my age and older, the boomers, are the worst. You guys should really know better. What you thought was a toy when you were five and later realized was just a potato, what you marveled at as a brilliant marketing ploy when you were a teenager, knowing all along when you weren’t stoned that this new “toy” selling like hotcakes was just a rock in a box, was re-packaged and reissued in Barack Obama, and you fell for it again.
He’s not even a real rock or a potato, he just “evokes the wondrous spirit of an innocent child playing with one.” Or some other such heart-tugging, hackneyed, platitudinous nonsense. And you bought it. Hook, line and sinker. I “can’t believe you ate the whole thing!” Shoulda called Mikey, he not only hates everything, at least he wasn’t stupid. Now, you and all the other duped and deluded denizens of their own imaginary mental dungeons are trying mighty hard not to look as silly as you feel. Progressives, bully blogger boyz, op-ed columnists and, funniest yet, the conservatives who fell so hard for the snow job that they abandoned their own selves to vote for “hopey, happy, joy, joy,” are all suddenly consumed with “who is this guy” questions they feel compelled to share with us all, assuming we all now feel their self-induced pain.
Nope.
Some of us are laughing our asses off.
Clap the lights off on your way out, will ya?
