Sunday, December 28, 2008
Claustrophobia
Tsk-tsk. Not even technically president yet, and Barack Obama is already feeling the walls closing in. If privacy had really been that important to you, mister, politics was probably a pretty dumb career path. My building is just across the park from the White House; I'll be listening for the primal scream.
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“OK, guys, come on," Obama said last Sunday, looking toward photographers clicking away as he warmed up before a round of golf. “How many shots do you need?”
Millions, O Mighty One. Millions.
BUAWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!
What a delicate little flower is our Barry. Wonder how he's going to hold up over the next four years.
Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.
The press will never leave him, because they want to be with The One! They want to bask in his aura, to feel his glow.
It's time he watched Monty Python's "Life of Brian" and worked out whether to hand the crowd a shoe or a gourd.
I don't understand why this is suddenly "news".
I have known for months that Obie is uncomfortable and incompetent without his stage, his props, and his TelePrompter, script-writers and Makeup.
Incidentally, I wonder whether the reporter was really rubbing it in by reporting the trivial fact that Obama ordered a tuna melt on 12-grain bread.
If he feels the walls closing in now, wait until we brick up the doorway and usher in the Amontilladi Administration...
So does this mean that even a preening narcissist might want some privacy now and then?
Well, duh. For Obama. a little bit of "me" time is simply time spent with the most unutterably wonderful person in his entire universe. He just likes to have the adoring press reinforce his own high opinion.
My best wishes for President Elect Archibald the All-Right.
Bunthorne: "Why, what a very singularly deep young man this deep young man must be!”
Cheers
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