Hank Harwood Here. Where, I can’t exactly say. But I’m doing well – nobody closing in on me.
Have you been getting away from politics? Or are you still talking to people – maybe getting into fights. Not that there’s much left to fight about these days - you got yourselves a candy-date. Sweet home pal Obama.
So far nothing has turned up about Barack to really turn me off. Not even the Right Reverend Wrong. He’s an actor who had a good steady gig. And Barack? Barack felt too white. He wanted to know what it was like to feel black. The Rev told him, and Barack, a good method actor, tried it on. Did it fit? That’s what we don’t know.
But why should we care? We’re all for searching for our identity, finding out who we are. What he was and how he got here is not what we care about. We care about what he is.
He’s a man who bowled a 37.
I want you to think about that, all you people who have ever bowled. Have you ever bowled a 37? I don’t think so. All right…he’s not familiar with the game. Should we hold that against him? No. But what we must hold against him is in ten frames, repeating the action twenty times, he could not figure out what to do to improve. He was unable to alter the failure. Unable to think quickly, under pressure, and change his approach. Sound familiar? Does it sound like change?
I submit that a man who did not rise to the occasion while bowling cannot be expected to do so in the far more complex game of geopolitics.
What do we really know about Barack Obama? Who knows him? Well…how about his wife? What we have from her is, “He’s only a man.” What we have from her is, “He was cute. That helped.” What we have from her is, “He’s stinky.” What we have from her is that he throws his socks all over the floor.
Can we afford to have a president we have to pick up after? Can we afford to have a president with an offensive odor? (The man intends to be a diplomat – to himself sit down with heads of state. For instance we know that Hugo Chavez is sensitive to odors. He claimed he could smell sulfur the day after W spoke at the UN.) Can we afford to have “only a man” for President? No. We tried that, and decided we needed a God. We thought it was Obama, but we’re being told otherwise. Have we simply fallen for a pretty face?
There is no time to look for another God. One is not looming on the horizon. Maybe the convention better go for the girl. Ohhhh. That gives me the chills, and not the good kind. The girl is scary. The girl keeps promising she thinks only of me, will never forget me, will never leave me alone. Who likes to hear things like that? Other girls. Boys don’t cotton to clinging. They shake it off. They run for their lives.
Run, Guys, Run! But where? Why to old John, over there. John’s through making a muck of things. Every night he dreams about McCain-Feingold and how it might keep him from being President. But he’s still willing to tell ’em what they want to hear. Give
