The Indefinable Barack Obama (Defined only by his vibe) by Mark Steyn
Author: Mark Steyn
Link: National Review Online
Date Published: October 13th, 2008
Excerpt:
Speaking personally, I’m not looking for a messiah in the White House. My favorite Presidential heritage site is the Coolidge homestead in Plymouth Notch, Vermont: I have seen the mausoleums of mighty kings, but none compares to the row of headstones on a snowbound hillside cemetery, seven generations of Coolidges lined up in a row, all buried under simple, bald granite markers with only an all but imperceptible small American eagle to distinguish the 30th president from his forebears and descendants. The American ideal: the citizen-president.
Or so I always assumed. But let’s be bipartisan here. If I were a Democrat, I’d salute Harry S Truman, the Missouri haberdasher who — whoa, “haberdasher!” There’s a word you don't hear too much nowadays, and, if you did, it’d probably be because the Treasury Secretary and the Chairman of the House Financial Services Committee are on cable TV standing on the steps of the Capitol announcing a 700 gazillion-dollar bipartisan haberdashery bailout package because the global haberdashery sector is too big to fail and if we don't act now there’ll be a massive planetary ripple effect that could take down ladies’ lingerie, if you'll pardon the expression.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Citizen-presidents: Who needs ’em? The day after the debate I bumped into two Obama supporters in St Johnsbury, Vermont who said isn’t it great that he's on course to win. Well, they were cute chicks, and I know an obvious pick-up line when I hear one, so I stopped to chat. God Almighty, it was like reverse Viagra: After ten minutes of Babes For Barack, I never want to meet a female woman of the opposite sex for the rest of my life. Their basic pitch was:
How do you solve a problem? Like, Obama!
How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?
Link: National Review Online
Date Published: October 13th, 2008
Excerpt:
Speaking personally, I’m not looking for a messiah in the White House. My favorite Presidential heritage site is the Coolidge homestead in Plymouth Notch, Vermont: I have seen the mausoleums of mighty kings, but none compares to the row of headstones on a snowbound hillside cemetery, seven generations of Coolidges lined up in a row, all buried under simple, bald granite markers with only an all but imperceptible small American eagle to distinguish the 30th president from his forebears and descendants. The American ideal: the citizen-president.
Or so I always assumed. But let’s be bipartisan here. If I were a Democrat, I’d salute Harry S Truman, the Missouri haberdasher who — whoa, “haberdasher!” There’s a word you don't hear too much nowadays, and, if you did, it’d probably be because the Treasury Secretary and the Chairman of the House Financial Services Committee are on cable TV standing on the steps of the Capitol announcing a 700 gazillion-dollar bipartisan haberdashery bailout package because the global haberdashery sector is too big to fail and if we don't act now there’ll be a massive planetary ripple effect that could take down ladies’ lingerie, if you'll pardon the expression.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Citizen-presidents: Who needs ’em? The day after the debate I bumped into two Obama supporters in St Johnsbury, Vermont who said isn’t it great that he's on course to win. Well, they were cute chicks, and I know an obvious pick-up line when I hear one, so I stopped to chat. God Almighty, it was like reverse Viagra: After ten minutes of Babes For Barack, I never want to meet a female woman of the opposite sex for the rest of my life. Their basic pitch was:
How do you solve a problem? Like, Obama!
How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?
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