Sitting In Obama's Chair
Armando Iannucci mocks the empty rhetoric of Democrat wannabe president Obama in a Guardian Unlimited article, "Barack Obama - I'm sure we've seen him somewhere before." I was meandering around Iowa at New Year's during the massive ad campaign to convince Iowans to caucus for him. Every fifteen minutes an ad ran for a Obama where he inspirationally called on his supporters to help him change the world. I'm little impressed by this grandiose speechifying. What part of the world exactly did he want to change first? Obama is a little light on details which makes me leery of him changing my world.
Ianucci notes that Obama spouts "... a rhetoric that soars and takes flight, but alights nowhere. It declares that together we can do anything, but doesn't mention any of the things we can do. It's a perpetual tickle in the nose that never turns into a sneeze. Trying to make sense of what he's saying is like trying to wrap mist."
Exactly.
Ianucci notes that Obama spouts "... a rhetoric that soars and takes flight, but alights nowhere. It declares that together we can do anything, but doesn't mention any of the things we can do. It's a perpetual tickle in the nose that never turns into a sneeze. Trying to make sense of what he's saying is like trying to wrap mist."
Exactly.
Ianucci descends into cruel, but delightful, mockery when he considers how Obama might orate about a simple chair:
"This chair can take your weight. This chair can hold your buttocks, 15 inches in the air. This chair, this wooden chair, can support the ass of the white man or the crack of the black man, take the downward pressure of a Jewish girl's behind or the butt of a Buddhist adolescent, it can provide comfort for Muslim buns or Mormon backsides, the withered rump of an unemployed man in Nevada struggling to get his kids through high school and needful of a place to sit and think, the plump can of a single mum in Florida desperately struggling to make ends meet but who can no longer face standing, this chair, made from wood felled from the tallest redwood in Chicago, this chair, if only we believed in it, could sustain America's huddled arse."
Damned if I don't want to sit in Obama's chair after hearing that! If only Obama was president so there would be chairs for everyone!
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A Letter of Introduction from T. Herman Zweibel
By T. Herman Zweibel
Publisher Emeritus (photo circa 1911)
The Onion
January 21, 2008 | Issue 44•03
The school-educated busy-bodies who manage my media properties inform me that it is almost time to appoint a new President. I almost cannot believe it is time for the suet-brained populace of this flagging Republic to be once again herded into the voting-booths to allegedly choose precisely which bloody-handed butcher will crack their bones and suck the marrow over the next few years. Futility, I say, rank and base futility! Does the grist choose the mill, the rabbit the hawk, the innocent 12-year-old Atlantic City orphan girl the lusty mob of beefy, drunk, vacationing coal-oil sales-men? They do not, and neither do the Citizens choose their Leaders. However, if The Onion news-paper can further the illusion that an individual vote has more potential to change the world than a lamb's last bubbling bleat in a crowded slaughter-house—and furthermore, if we may turn a hand-some profit by doing so—than let The Onion be the Judas goat to the milling herd of democratic cattle!
I am told that our new War of the White House section will contain the vetted and censored life stories of each candidate; white-washed and simplified versions of their heinous plans to drain the life and wealth of each and every tax-payer; a schedule denoting the appearances of every aspirant, so that one may go and be covered in unspeakable fulminating lies in person instead of hearing them over the crystal-set. I should God damned well hope that there will also be prettily-colored pictures, or else the average American citizen will not be able to keep his eye on it for more than a few heart-beats, and it would be better yet if there were accompanying photos of ample heaving bosoms. Sadly, the man in the street becomes affronted whenever he feels his supposed dignity is being besmirched. Why is this? The man in the street is, for all his puffery, standing there in the God damned street!
In any case, there will also be a section on how our Democracy works, despite even the simplest boor suspecting in his secret heart of hearts that it is a sham. Which it is. I have not voted since becoming a wealthy industrialist, having figured out some time ago that it is much wiser to employ the organ grinder than vote for the monkey. Still, I hope this special section is of some amusement to all. I understand that one of the candidates is campaigning in a dress this year, and yet another in a minstrel's blackface, which I must say was unexpected; but as long as there are no Catholics on the ballot, I see no reason to summon the marksmen.
Now get back to work!
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