Every now and again, your teenager gives in to that base temptation and does something impulsive and self-destructive. It sets them back for a while, but you dust them off, hope they learned their lesson, and get them back on their feet. American voters are a lot like that.
When the Electoral College voted for Jimmy Carter in 1976, it was like dating that person who your parents anxiously warned was not a good match for you. But, he seemed so genuine and romantic compared to that boring old Gerald Ford.
Bill Clinton was a fire-red Pontiac Firebird with that big gold eagle painted around the supercharged SD-455 engine protruding through the hood. The Clinton ride was flashy, fast and dangerous and got us into a lot of trouble. We came out of it a bit disheveled, but none the worse for wear.
Electing Barack Obama was like, let’s say, getting a face tattoo in the likeness of a Che Guevara. Somehow over the next 20 years, we should find a way to undo it. It will involve many painful treatments that fade the impression a little more each time. And the sooner we begin, the better off we will be.
Daily news reports these days are an ominous drumbeat of our sorry economic condition. The polls are measuring the regret that America is experiencing for having elected someone to the presidency whose strongest quality is his speaking skill.
And the President’s behavior seems to reflect those of the depressed captain of a rudderless ship, out of wind and out of ideas. Nothing spoke louder to us than his announcing a pending job creation plan just before retreating to Martha’s Vineyard.
We remember that it was less than three years ago that President Obama announced his initial plan for a healthy job market, ostensibly showing results by January of 2011. Flanked by a Democratic controlled House and Democratic controlled Senate, President-Elect Obama delivered this assertion in November of 2008...Here’s Obozo, November of 2008, in case you want raise your blood pressure level to the bursting point. Frankly, I’d rather not. When I listened to it the first time I was screaming at the TV, “HOW, you MORON?!”
Time would be better spent trying to figure out how to get rid of that tattoo that the ‘gullibles’ marked us with.