The Wimp with Red
Paint
This all
reminds me of the sixth grade ... no ... the fifth grade. I was in a room with
the sixth and fifth combined. The building looked like the school house in the
movie "Hoosiers." All brick construction with tall ceilings, black
slate chalkboards, ancient and worn margins on all the books in the library (no
dirty books), wooden floors, huge windows looking onto endless wheat fields ...
and a bully. The guy was named Tim Tuttle. He was a sixth grader and we fifth
graders were easy pickin's for Tim.
Not
being (entirely) stupid, we fifth graders soon figured out we needed to
maintain good relations with a certain sixth grader named Joe. He was much
bigger and more muscular than even the male teacher. I figured he was actually
an adult in disguise, there to assist if things ever got out of hand. He wasn't
an adult or there for any other reason than his lack of academic acumen. This I
discerned from watching his class room recitals. Pretty unimpressive.
But my
point is that it was wise to maintain good relations with Joe because he had no
soft spot for Tim. And you knew he could pulverize Tim if he took a shine to
the idea. Joe was a happy-go-lucky kind of fellow and being his friend was
easy. He always played baseball with us at recess and noon hour. He
was always around and definitely deterred Tim from terrorizing us fifth
graders.
It was
basic diplomacy. Most young boys learn early to be judicious in their word
usage and potentially provocative language on the playground. You could get a poke
in the eye.
Obama's
problem, inter alia, is he never had a Tim Tuttle in his life. He
has lived a life which has taught him to seek the easy route and always look
out for Numero Uno first. He has been taking the safest route ever since he was
a little boy all dressed up in Muslim garb listening to the chant from the
local mosque minaret. And worst of all, he learned early about Affirmative
Action and the guilt American liberals bathe themselves in every day. He used
it to go places and now he reminds me of another kid from my past.
This
clown's name was Jimmy. He took an advanced degree in engineering from a very
prestigious university in California. He had been raised by an overly
protective and ambitious mom with no Dad around. His mother made certain the
kid was showered with everything affluence could buy. His mother got him a
great job in a big construction firm. He was headed for prominence and wealth.
One day, he complained to me about the need to be on the job site by seven in
the morning and not leaving until around the same hour in the evening. "I
don't have time to even pick up my dry cleaning!" he whined to me once. (I
wasn't very sympathetic. I didn't have any dry cleaning.) He did some serious
damage once by writing stupidly incriminating file memos about our crew’s job
performance, all of which was later discoverable in litigation. Nice.
His
career suddenly took a turn one day when he quit, and it was later learned he
had gone into the police academy because he felt he was entirely unappreciated
where he was. Besides, he would get respect as a policeman. And, as a fall
back, carrying a gun would doubtless garner the respect he may not conjure up
by his mere presence.
The
wimp becomes the bully.
That's
what we have in the Oval Officer. The wimp who never learned how to carry his
own weight now has the Big Stick ... and relishes his new found role. Barack
"Pulitzer" Obama is throwin' his weight around.
And the
whole world is gonna listen! Except England and France. (France?...I gotta'
chuckle here.) And Congress (maybe ... more chuckles).
Obama
should have looked around to be sure his Joe was somewhere close. Or OUR Uncle
Sam.
He's the
one who doesn't know anything about the Syrian rebels, who are savages like the
ones in Libya. He is a wimpy bully who learns nothing from his prior and very
recent failures.
Someone needs to take his red paint away before
we all get hurt.
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