A hypothetical conversation with Obama.
“You are a real progressive, forward thinker,” I say. “You had the vision to come up with Affordable Health Care when you should have been tackling employment.”
“Tackling? I am the President. I have czars working for me. They play the front line. They deflect the mounting hatred for me. No, you won’t tackle Obama that easily. I’m a tricky quarterback. I have class. I was in the bottom of my class but you’ll never know. Those records are buried,” Obama says.
“Maybe you should try tackling some of our enemies. Iran is getting nuclear ready. Your picture is burning in every Arab country even though you are the son of a Moslem. You’re too soft. Russia and China are stocking up on nukes while you’re junking them. Your shoulder pads are broken. You are breaking the back of America.”
“Are you going to buy my left wing ideas or not? You can just buy the chassis if you want. Or the wheels? Or any of the broken down ideas I’m trying to sell you. Hope and change. Remember that one. Take a crowbar from the trunk. I lead from behind.”
“I don’t think I’m going to buy the retread of failed ideas. No second term for you. None of your used cars for me,” I say and walk out of the lot.
Obama follows me yelling, “I can give you some food stamps and a free cell phone if you vote for me.”
“You’re not my nanny,” I say. “I was never in that high a class to have a nanny. You are a snob. I am a ninety-nine per center.”
“Just take one ride with me,” Obama says, opening the door to the old Buick.
“You’ve already taken the country for a ride,” I say.
I keep walking. I hope the rest of the country stays with me. I hope they don’t buy a retreaded idea from this cheap President.
I look back for a second and say, “The Horror.”
“Are you referring to rich people?” Obama asks.
“You sir, are the horror,” I add.
“You are the jungle of the Democrat’s ideology. You are the face of a failed attempt at socialism. You are Kurtz facing the boa constrictor of your failures.”