Watching Barack Hussein Obama on the David Letterman Show was a surrealistic but revealing experience.
Surrealistic because Obama seemed far more at ease in a show-biz context than say, the West Wing. When I see Obama in the White H0use, or in the halls of Congress, the image is jarring. I mean, how the heck did a Marxist community agitator with a life-long affection for Jew-haters and third term abortions end up as POTUS?
Revealing because Barack Hussein Obama is a show biz president. A man of no discernible accomplishments in life, he slithered his way up the political ladder through thuggery, guile, and a heavy reliance on image-makers. Obama is trim and good looking, and when he beams his BIG SMILE, the audience — especially single women— feels the smile is just for them, a personal “hey, babe” from the Big Man on Campus.
Obama’s natural habitat is the Hollywood bubble. Famously uncomfortable with his Democrat colleagues and scornful of those on the other side of the aisle, Obama’s true constituency are the limousine liberals of Hollywood, those creatures who earn zillions of dollars by trading on a manufactured image. George Clooney is Mr. Nice Guy. Brad Pitt is the reformed bad boy. Barack is a cool mulatto — a postmodern Sidney Poitier.
Ever the groveling liberal, Letterman feeds Obama lines written by White House gag writers.
Letterman claims to be worried about the debt.
Ever genial, Obama assures Dave that in the “short term” the massive U.S. debt is “not a problem” because we owe the money to “ourselves.”
This was an important political moment. Obama is telling the American people that saddling our children and grandchildren and their children and grandchildren with an unsustainable welfare state is not an issue. Failing states like Greece, Spain, Portugal, Italy — eventually the entire EU — are to be ignored.
Obama is telling the American people that if elected to a second term he will continue to spend, he will continue to expand the welfare state, and he will continue to grow government.
Dave asks about the debt clock on display at the Republican National Convention. What was that ticking number?
Obama, still unconcerned, claims not to know “precisely” the amount of national debt. But again, and here his voice downshifts into sincere gear, Barry assures the adoring audience that the debt number is no big deal.
Clever touch, that word “precisely.”
It makes light of reality. It undermines the frightening precision of numbers, those facts which ended up burying the Soviet Union, those inconvenient bills that eventually must be paid. Because as Milton Friedman neatly summarized all economic theory: “There are no free lunches.”
By the way, the number is over sixteen trillion dollars. Give or take a few billion.
Is that precise enough, Barry?
If that does not scare the American people silly, then I give up. Really, how stupid do you have to be not to realize that an American president who does not see that we are on the edge of a fiscal cliff, an American president who doesn’t know “precisely” the amount of debt we owe is a disgrace, a fraud, a destroyer of the American dream.
Obama is a disaster as a president, but he’s a great sidekick for Dave. Once we fire him we can be sure that he’ll take up residence in Hollywood and start a new career in show biz where it will be all Barry all the time.