CAN OBAMA RESCUE THE DEMOCRATS?
While Barack Obama revels in the perks of post-presidency, the Democratic base longingly wonders if he’ll ever again direct his gaze their way.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
“Think of it, treasure the memory: A president who didn’t brag about himself. Who made it about “we,” not “me.”
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No. This is not parody. This is not from The Onion. The excerpt below, which includes the line above, is from an actual column in Thursday’s Vanity Fair!
This past week heard a lot of incredibly stupid statements from supposedly responsible officials and “smart people”, mostly from the ranks of liberals (no, we’re not including ‘child star’, David Hogg. He also makes many stupid, revolting statements, but, come on, he IS a child).
The column below, however, even beat out the assertion by many Democrats, that, inquiring of a respondent’s citizenship status in the US Census discriminates against all people who have entered the country illegally, discourages their participation in the census, and thus provides an inaccurate count of the number of people currently living in the United States…Huh? (If a census doesn’t reflect the number of actual citizens residing in a country, what good is a “census”?)
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James Wolcott apparently wrote this column; Vanity fair editors apparently approved its publication without disclaimer, and, as far as we know, no one has yet sought a mental health assessment for Mr. Walcott : (excerpt and upchuck alert) DLH
CAN OBAMA RESCUE THE DEMOCRATS? By (Bi?) JAMES WOLCOTT
“This is strictly, sketchily anecdotal, so don’t strap me to the wall and drill for data, but listening to fellow liberal neurotic Democrats over the last year, I detect a sense of abandonment. Of Obandonment, to be more precise. Obama, Obama, where art thou? The Bat Signal scours the city night in vain for thee. Think of it, treasure the memory: A president who didn’t brag about himself. Who made it about “we,” not “me.” Who could lankily stride around the Oval Office without getting winded. Occupying the White House for eight years, Barack and Michelle Obama conducted themselves beautifully and irreproachably, elevating the national tone, embracing the once excluded, and leaving 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue radiating an afterglow rare for presidents and first mates, second terms usually being brutal and humbling. Their afterglow persists, giving their absence a keener pang, but the halo effect they left on governance, integrity, and diversity was turned into a bent hubcap on Week One of the Trump presidency; it’s been Satyricon ever since under a chief executive whom political consultant, analyst, and Never Trumper Rick Wilson has crowned our “Kentucky Fried Nero.” The contrast between the recent Then and the nonstop Now is painful, poignant, and demoralizing . . . one stabbing reminder after another of what we have lost.”
The unveiling of the official presidential portraits of Barack and Michelle Obama at the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery on February 12 iconicized the couple with a provocatively fresh re-envisioning: Kehinde Wiley’s Obama seated in a sylvan setting against a wall of foliage suggesting a more colorful outfield wall in Chicago’s Wrigley Field, his posture and gaze firm, direct, resolute, and a trifle stern; Amy Sherald’s Michelle not the White House Wonder Woman we remember, a flexer of impassioned energy, but a contemplatively chill queen in repose, the volume of her skirt serving as throne. Political pundits turned overnight art critics complained that the Obama portraits “didn’t look like them,” but that’s the traditional croak of philistines who have their realist expectations confounded. The Obamas never did anything the orthodox way, and the portraits underscored their precedent-shattering sophistication. . . .
I don’t think we need any more proof that Demonrats are demented.