Home > Archive >The Comeback Vegan and the Porter
Author:jc
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Wed, Sep 5th, 2012 09:48:18 AM
Topic: The Comeback Vegan and the Porter

(ed. Reading this piece which appeared in the NY TImes, or watching the republican or democratic conventions, makes mockery of intelligent thought and reality.

Anyone who believes voting in America does anything but waste gas, or shoe leather, to get to a voting booth seriously needs to wake up, open their peepers and see things as they are.

The homilies and watermelon and chicken in heaven these politicians preach is totally transparent bullshit.

RK could go on, but why bother as it is patently apparent most of you are brain-dead and unable to rise from the somnambulist slumber of your daily grind to realize this.

The article below is a perfectly posed view of the nonsense that is politics.

The former president, bill clinton, like his predecessors and his successors did absolutely nothing to arrest the globalist hurricane destroying our countries nationalism, wealth and future. In fact he hastened it.

And obama equally is as delinquent in defending the Constitution and our country -- he has led us down the path to destruction while telling you all how good it "will" be "someday" instead of telling the truth of how bad it is now, and how worse it will undoubtedly get.

So now, to get elected, obama is reaching out for the man who, several years ago, said this:

"Former President Bill Clinton tried to get former senator Ted Kennedy to endorse Hillary Clinton for president in the 2008 election by describing Barack Obama this way: 'A few years ago, this guy would have been carrying our bags.'"

If obama had any sense of self he would rather lose the election than seek the support of someone who uttered such an epitaph.

But politics knows no ethical bounds, it carries no personal action, it allows no honesty....and anyone who does not realize this is worse than brain-dead.

So read this piece, by Ms Dowd, that is on the surface entertaining but below the veneer it reveals the pathetic state of the human condition, where soon your very thoughts will be known and controlled by those who, in generosity, call you "useless eaters".

The Comeback Vegan
By MAUREEN DOWD

I remember the first time I realized that Barack Obama was not going to be another Bill Clinton. Everyone assumed that the Secretariat from Illinois was the natural heir to the Secretariat from Arkansas. But Barry was only out of the gate for a day in 2007 before it became apparent that, while the senator had a bouquet of talents and several virtues that Clinton would never possess, he was not quite Bill’s match as a political natural.

On his first Iowa campaign trip, Barry was irritated. (Michelle had made him quit smoking). He was hungry. (He had eaten only trail mix.) He was indignant. (Why would press pests care what he looked like shirtless in Hawaii?) When the diffident debutante ended up in the deserted AmericInn’s lobby in Iowa Falls on an icy Saturday night with reporters and a few six-packs, he did not seize the opportunity to seduce, as Bill would have. Clinton probably would have chatted with one reporter about Gabriel García Márquez, another about economic philosophy and a third about prowling the Arkansas backwoods to find antique cameos for Hillary.

Barry, for his part, looked around with dazed distaste and scurried up to his room. He seemed oddly conflicted about politics. That ambivalence started with the first political speech he gave at Occidental College, when he felt both elation at his ability to rouse with words and disdain at how easy it was. It became an exhausting pattern: Get people wildly excited and then withhold the excitement. Avoid sound bites and visceral connections because political games are beneath you. Instead of surfing the magic and using it to cow the opposition, Obama would retreat inside himself at crucial moments, climbing back to his contemplative mountaintop.

He rationed his smile, his eloquence and his electricity, playing the dispassionate observer, delegating, dithering and rushing in at the last moment to try to save the day. A cold shower to Bill’s warm bath. While Clinton aides had to act like sheepdogs, herding the boss offstage as he tried to linger and schmooze issues with crowds, Obama needs to be alone and decompress even after meeting with a few people.

Last week, Republicans struggled to answer the Dada question about Mitt Romney: “Can he be human?” This week, Democrats struggle to answer the Dada question about the once-thrilling Obama: “Can he be exciting?” (Nobody ever asked either question about Bill.)

After running last time as the stake in the heart of the dysfunctional, draining and seemingly indestructible Clinton dynasty, Barry has had to humble himself and ask for the help of the man his camp painted as racist and intemperate in 2008. During that race, Bill literally carried an 81-page list of perceived insults by Obama to Hillary. It is the great psychodrama of this convention: Will the shrewd and diabolical Bill buoy Barry or puncture him? Will he be generous or — like all those 2016 strivers at the Republican convention — self-obsessed?

“We don’t need Clinton the man,” said one Obama honcho as they nervously await the draft of Bill’s speech. “We need Clinton the myth.”

The two tall, left-handed, silver-tongued baby boomers both grew up not knowing their fathers. But while the disciplined Barry became self-reliant, with little patience for neediness or insincerity, the undisciplined Bill became self-indulgent, a maw of need and maestro of faux sincerity.

Obama doesn’t like to share the stage with other politicians or even campaign for House Democrats. He thinks of himself as a singular force, a unique brand, and his narrative has always begun and ended with him. He thinks he did build it himself. But now — because of his own naïveté, insularity and arrogance — he needs Clinton to rev up the disillusioned faithful and donors and lure independents and white working-class men.

Bill, hailed by some as the first black president, must expand Barry’s narrative to reach back and link Obama’s roiling tenure of wars, debt and partisan-fencing to Clinton’s restful stretch of prosperity. You know you’re in trouble when you’re seen as less capable of taming the House Republicans than an ex-president who was impeached by the House Republicans.

And what does the Big Dog get? Resurrection, redemption, relevance, a reflected patina of Obama integrity and fidelity; the chance to outshine the upstart who outmaneuvered his wife and, by extension, him in 2008. And a possible ticket back to the Oval, this time as the first First Man, a vegan gnawing on Michelle’s vegetable garden.

It’s not a bromance, like Romney and Paul Ryan. It’s a transaction. Obama needs his Democratic predecessor to reassure jittery voters that the future can look like the past, with a lower deficit, plenty of jobs and the two parties actually talking. In return, Bill will have the capital to try to ensure that the past can look like the future, with Hillary as Obama’s successor.

What a wild twist. Instead of ushering in the post-Clinton era, as intended, Obama has ushered in the pre-Clinton era.

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