It’s not the funniest joke you’ll hear this election season, but it is a joke. What’s hilarious is the inability of left-leaning professional comedy writers to see anything funny about Barack Obama.
With a straight face, the New York Times (7/15/08) offered us forty-one column inches under the title “Want Obama in a Punch Line? First, Find a Joke.” The Times informed us how difficult it is “for a phalanx of late-night television hosts who depend on skewering political leaders for a healthy quotient of their nightly monologues. Jay Leno, David Letterman, Conan O’Brien and others have delivered a nightly stream of jokes about the Republican running for president – each one a variant on the same theme: John McCain is old.” But they just can’t bring themselves to poke fun at Obama.
The use of the word “phalanx” is apt, so is the word “skewering.” A phalanx is a tight formation of foot soldiers armed with spears. These after-dark defenders of liberalism can’t see anything funny about Barack Obama because of their reverence for him: they revere a politician. Not one of these foot soldiers for liberalism can bring himself to be the first person to stick his spear into the Baby Jesus. Never mind that Obama has cultivated an aura of secular sainthood by such contrivances as the focus-group testing his speeches, the use of meticulous stagecraft and calculated myth making.
The Times opines that “. . . there has been little humor about Mr. Obama . . . within a late-night landscape dominated by white hosts, white writers, and overwhelmingly white audiences, there has been almost none about his race.” The Times quotes Mike Sweeney, the head writer for Conan O’Brien, who says that the writers are waiting for something that defines Obama “in comedy terms.” “The thing is,” says Mike Barry, who writes for David Letterman, “He’s not buffoonish in any way.”
Got that? This “phalanx” of liberal jesters can’t see any comedic potential in a pencil-necked, jug-eared, former professor who gets cranky if his drones fail to serve him organic Black Forrest Berry Honest Tea and MET-RX chocolate roasted-peanut protein bars at tea time. Even in remote locales, Obama demands that his aides track down this pricey beverage. (NY Post, 8/1/08, p.8). Isn’t there comedic potential in a calorie-counting ascetic who visits the gym three times in one day? “Everybody should like ice cream,” chirped Sasha Obama during an Access Hollywood interview arranged by her father. She pointed an accusing finger at her pop: “Except Daddy!”
The night this interview aired, a distraught Barack Obama told aides he would not allow his daughters to be interviewed again. “He felt he had hawked his own kids,” wrote Maureen Dowd in the New York Times (7/13/08). Which he had. Their exposure only reinforced the perception that Obama couldn’t relate to average Americans, some of whom the dapper Hyde Park swell had notoriously characterized as bitter rubes who cling desperately to their guns and their bibles for comfort. As an alternative to the false hope of religion, Obama is offering us . . . himself.
The finicky Mister Obama then felt compelled to visit all three of the morning shows to disavow his decision to exploit his daughters, aged 10 and 7, in an ill-fated attempt at image enhancement. He said the whole idea had blossomed at a children’s party. The girls had come off as spontaneous and vivacious; daddy had come off looking like a stiff. Maybe next time he’ll keep the girls at home and just send the guy in the clown suit who makes the balloon animals.
The New York Times crept closer to the truth: “There is no doubt, several representatives of the late-night shows said, that so far their audiences (and at least some of the shows’ writers) seem favorably disposed toward Mr. Obama, to a degree that perhaps leaves them more resistant to jokes about him than those about most previous candidates.”
What a jewel of understatement. These folks who “seem to be favorably disposed toward Mr. Obama” are, in truth, Obama acolytes – they look to him for deliverance from everything liberals pout about. They want “change” and the urgency of their neediness has rendered them humorless. Call it fawning-liberal writer’s block.
Obama panders to the needy by keeping his message hopeful – and vague. In the words of one satirical Obama believer: “I believe in Obama because I believe that Obama believes in everything that I believe in.”
Obama’s glassy-eyed enthusiasts see nothing laughable about Barack & Michelle’s pathetically slavish efforts to repackage themselves as carbon copies of the dead Kennedys, John & Jackie. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but it only works to the benefit of those being imitated – the imitators come off as desperate wannabees. Though the Obamas may yearn to hold court in some latter-day Camelot, they lack the authenticity of the high-born people they are imitating. Trying to copy the “Kennedy look” from faded photographs just doesn’t work for the Obamas. The whole imitation thing lacks originality; Michelle just looks silly sporting Jackie’s signature pearls, simple A-line dresses and a chemically-manufactured, welded-in-place, knock off of Jackie O’s flip hairstyle.
Mikki Taylor, beauty editor for Essence magazine noted that there was nothing accidental about Michelle Obama’s fashion offensive: “And when we flash back to the ‘60s, those are the terms that come to mind when we think about Jacqueline Kennedy.” The fashion rags have dubbed her Michelle O; the shock jocks who thrive on puncturing pomposity have tarred her as Blackie O.
The photographic evidence is overwhelming. The sleeveless blue dress and chunky pearls that Michelle sported for her Newsweek cover shot was virtually identical to an ensemble worn by Jackie forty years ago. Michelle was photographed in a light yellow suit that is strikingly similar to one worn by Jackie when she was campaigning with JFK. Poor Michelle has done everything but plant a pill box hat on top of her processed doo. And in case you still missed the point of the Obamas’ desperate posturing, the Obama campaign has issued campaign buttons featuring side-by-side photos of John Kennedy and Barack. Comically, Michelle Obama undermined the whole Kennedy-imitation project by tastelessly blurting out that her husband starts the day with foul breath and rank body odor.
Sharing Kennedy’s Shortcomings
The Obama campaign has striven to persuade us that John McCain is just an old guy whose decades of eyewitness experience are of no consequence. We are asked to believe that Mister Obama’s inspired vision of a radiant future is somehow more substantial and more trustworthy than Mr. McCain’s personal memories of how our foreign adversaries have behaved. The Obama team is quick to say that John Kennedy was a young and inexperienced president and that John Kennedy is warmly regarded by posterity. Indeed, he is.
But John Kennedy is a warm and fuzzy memory because he was a charming guy with a charming wife and some cute children, who was slain by a communist nut. There is collective amnesia about how John Kennedy’s youthful ineptitude almost destroyed America.
Back in 1960 the torch was passed to a charismatic orator without much political experience. On day 85 of his administration, Jack Kennedy tripped over his own dilettantism and fell on his face. On that day the courageous force of Cuban exiles, whom Kennedy had encouraged to make a brave attempt to liberate their captive homeland, were being decimated by Fidel Castro’s armed forces. Kennedy failed to evacuate or reinforce the Cuban liberators at the Bay of Pigs. On that sad day Kennedy got an education; the horribly high tuition was paid by the Cubans he abandoned on the beach.
Once Kennedy had demonstrated his failure of nerve, America’s enemies wrote him off as a chump. The wily and far more experienced Nikita Khrushchev, who had successfully negotiated the treacherous labyrinth of Joseph Stalin’s inner circle to become premier of the Soviet Union, interpreted Kennedy’s failure to support the Cuban exiles as a clear indication of Kennedy’s weakness. Premier Khrushchev was thus emboldened to festoon the northern shoreline of Cuba with nuclear ballistic missiles capable of vaporizing America’s capital city only minutes after launching. The soviets were unimpressed by Kennedy’s demand that the missiles be removed from Cuba. The tough talk precipitated a naval confrontation between Soviet vessels and the U.S. Navy. As Kennedy’s biographers tell it, the world was brought to the brink of nuclear war. It was a near horror that would not have occurred if the more experienced Richard Nixon had been in the White House. Nixon had actually won the election of 1960; it was only the legions of dead voters beneath the sod of Chicago’s graveyards who tipped the tally for Jack Kennedy.
Richard Nixon, himself a veteran of hardball politics, chose not to put the country through the ordeal of a courtroom contest over the legitimacy of Kennedy’s “victory.” Nixon’s gallant gesture set the inexperienced Kennedy on the road to nuclear confrontation and onward to his final motorcade in Dallas. How’s that for irony?
Today, Kennedy’s Camelot is remembered for its stylish flourishes, not for its lofty accomplishments. Jack’s administration was an entertaining interlude between the two far more eventful administrations of more experienced presidents.
Barack Pulls His Stiletto
Since we’ve touched on how John Kennedy and his daddy Joe fixed the election of 1960, we might as well touch on how Barack Obama deprived the Illinois electorate of any choice at the ballot box.
Back in 1996, when Barack Obama first sought elective office, he exploited a backroom stratagem that guaranteed his election. Working in cahoots with political operatives Alan Dobry and Lois Friedberg-Dobry and a paid consultant named Ronald Davis, whom Obama called his “guru of petitions,” the Obama team assembled in the hearing room of the Chicago Board of Election Commissioners. Their purpose was to scrutinize each of the almost 1,600 signatures that state senator Alice Palmer had submitted to earn her a place on the election ballot. Alice Palmer had nurtured the fledgling Barack Obama; she had introduced him to the inner circle of Chicago politics. Now Obama was unleashing his operatives to throw her off the ballot and terminate her political career.
It took Obama’s closeted operatives days to whittle Alice Palmer’s list of 1,580 signatures down to fewer than the 757 required by election law. The disqualifications were typically for such petty infractions as a name hand printed rather than written longhand, or a woman who used her maiden name rather than her married name. After the Obama team wiped Alice Palmer’s name off the ballot, they went on to get the three remaining candidates bumped off the ballot.
Barack Obama would run for the Illinois state senate unopposed. He had managed to push an incumbent senator off the ballot and to disqualify all of his remaining political opposition. It was the kind of anti-democratic maneuver that would have made Robert Mugabe proud. In his semi-fictional book, The Audacity of Hope, Obama attributes his 1996 election victory to his uplifting message of hope and his call for folks to end their cynicism.
One of the candidates whom Obama had disqualified had gathered 1,899 signatures. Gha-is Askia opined to the Chicago Tribune (2007):
“Why say you’re for a new tomorrow, then go do old-style Chicago politics to remove legitimate candidates? He talks about honor and democracy, but what honor is there in getting rid of every other candidate so you can run scot-free? Why not let the people decide?”
Isn’t a lying hypocrite of Barack Obama’s stature deserving of even gentle mockery? Don’t bother asking the liberal comedians; they’re too busy lighting candles at his shrine. A fretful Mike Barry (Letterman Show) tells the New York Times, “I think some of us were maybe too quick to caricature Al Gore and John Kerry and there’s maybe some reluctance to do the same thing to him.”
Well, maybe writers who are “reluctant” to lampoon pompous politicians who have wooden personas should admit that they don’t have the right stuff to be comedy writers.
Rob Burnett, an executive producer for David Letterman, chimes in with, “Anything that has even a whiff of being racist, no one is going to laugh. The audience is not going to allow anyone to do that.” Really? Not even a whiff?
Barack Obama’s acolytes are poised to pounce on any unflattering caricature of their Lord; their feelings of reverence preclude the possibility of mirth. Are we to allow these cheerless drones to cast a veto vote against all satire? Is it racist to mock Barack & Michelle for their mimicry of the Kennedy’s? Can we laugh at their conceit that we wouldn’t catch on to their pathetic posing? Can’t we poke fun at a guy who wins elective office by getting all the other candidates kicked off the ballot? Can’t we chuckle when the guy’s wife, who speaks flawless English, begins talking ungrammatical street-speak in the halting cadence of someone reading from a foreign-language phrase book in a desperate attempt to bridge the yawning gulf between herself and her husband’s illiterate followers? Didn’t everyone laugh when that other Illinois native, Hillary What’s-her-name, tried out a corn-pone accent on a black audience? Why are Michelle Obama’s pandering affectations off limits to satirists?
The Touchy Mister Obama
The Obamas are not saints and they are not royalty. They both volunteered for a season of bare-knuckled political fisticuffs, but from the very beginning Barack has tried to put restrictions on his critics. It’s been amusing to watch his list of “off limits” topics grow ever longer.
First, it was his ears. After Maureen Dowd made mention of his protruding ears, Obama sought her out at a gathering and admonished her. How dare she! He said he had been teased as a child; he said her words were hurtful. Gawd! The first thing every kid learns in the schoolyard is not to be hypersensitive to petty trash talk, because once the other kids discover that words can make you puff and sputter they will never stop making you perform for their amusement. I’d wager that little Barack made this blunder in his schoolyard and never heard the end of it. What’s the adult Barack to do? In the words of the Godfather: “He can act like a man!!!”
After that, Barack put criticism of his wife off limits. He said that taking potshots at a candidate’s wife was improper. He said this after he had sent his wife out as his surrogate voice and she had blurted out that only recently had she felt any pride in America. And then she said it again to another audience. Her words were captured on audio recordings. When her snarky barbs garnered her a few verbal brickbats, Barack began scolding her critics and declaring Michelle to be “off limits.” His prissy demeanor made his declamations all the more laughable.
Then he told us that the mere mention of his middle name was foul play. He thought his race should be a taboo topic until the racist rants he had been exposing his daughters to every Sunday finally reached the ears of white Americans. After that, Barack ditched his pastor and began yammering non-stop on the topic of his race. He cautioned audiences that his opponents would use his race as a scare tactic, even though all that could be heard coming from the McCain camp was the sound of crickets.
Mr. Blank Screen
In his 2006 bestseller, The Audacity of Hope, Obama reveals the secret of his popularity: “I serve as a blank screen on which people of vastly different political stripes project their own views.” Of course, if Obama were a man of clearly defined principles he would never be mistaken for a “blank screen.” His studied lack of definition makes him a mirror in which his followers see their own reflections. By not defining himself too clearly he believes he can change his political positions without being called a flip-flopper; he refers to his numerous wrenching philosophical reversals as “refinements.” These “refinements” should be a gold mine for comedians, but the left-leaning writers for O’Brien, Letterman and Leno continue to stare blankly into space and wait patiently for Obama to define himself “in comedy terms.”
Surfing on Slime
Barack Obama has been able to preserve his blank-screen persona because he has the best dumb luck of any contemporary politician. Hard-fought political struggles leave the battlefield littered with gaffs, bloopers, revealing comments, diamond-hard position statements and memorable oral exchanges. This battlefield debris helps a curious electorate to understand what sort of political person a candidate is. In the odd case of Barack Obama, however, the political turf he has traversed has been barely ruffled – there is no battlefield debris. That’s because Barack Obama has been blessed with political opponents who were, figuratively speaking, at death’s door. Until now, Barack Obama has been able to hide from any political combat.
For example: In 2003, Barack Obama was a state senator representing swanky Hyde Park and a few poor black neighborhoods on Chicago’s South Side. That’s when he decided to run for the U.S. Senate seat being vacated by Republican senator Peter Fitzgerald. Senator Fitzgerald had chosen not to run for re-election because of a lack of party support: the incumbent political culture back in Illinois was displeased with Senator Fitzgerald because he had appointed an aggressive U.S. Attorney to the Northern District of Illinois who was hard at work cleaning up Illinois’ corrupt political culture.
As the 2004 election year began, several Democrats chose to run for the U.S. Senate: state senator Obama; the state’s comptroller, Dan Hynes; Mayor Richard M. Daley’s chief of staff, Gery Chico; liberal talk-radio hostess Nancy Skinner and a multi-millionaire named Blair Hull. Mr. Hynes began the race as the clear favorite, but after Blair Hull lavished $28.7 million of his own money on the primary Mr. Hynes had dropped to a second-place tie with Barack Obama. In the final week of the campaign all the pundits predicted a win for Blair Hull, who had a commanding lead at 27 percent. Obama and Hynes had 17 percent each. Obama was headed for obscurity. That’s when God intervened.
Or maybe it was Obama’s Machiavellian political advisor David Axelrod. Before he became Obama’s consultant, Axelrod had worked closely with Blair Hull. That’s how Axelrod came to know the inside dirt about Hull’s messy divorce. Axelrod was also a former employee of the Chicago Tribune.
Well . . . somehow the Chicago Tribune caught wind of Hull’s marital problems and began pestering Mr. Hull to release all the nasty details. Hull’s divorce files were released to the public on February 27, 2004. His ex-wife called him a violent man; she had lurid stories to tell. On primary day Hull finished in third place with a dismal 10.8 percent of the vote.
The big beneficiary of Hull’s ruination was Barack Obama who finished with a stunning 52.8 percent and became the Democrats’ senate candidate. The clandestine hand of Obama’s operatives had done its job. If they couldn’t get Barack’s opponents ripped from the ballot, they could suffocate them with slime.
Barack Obama’s meteoric rise continued – unimpeded by any genuine political debate. His contest for the U.S. Senate in November was no contest at all; it was an eerie re-enactment of Barack’s primary race.
On the day that Democrats chose Obama, Republicans chose Jack Ryan as their candidate. Ryan was handsome, youthful and the former husband of actress Jeri Ryan, best remembered for her roles on Star Trek: Voyager and Boston Public.
Behind the scenes Obama’s operatives went to work to destroy Jack Ryan. This time David Axelrod’s former employer, the Chicago Tribune, sued in California for the release of Ryan’s divorce file. The file was made public on June 22, 2004; it included allegations of lewd sexual hijinx by a weepy ex-wife actress. The bad press was fatal to Ryan’s budding political career. Ryan relinquished his nomination and the Republicans couldn’t find a fitful replacement on such short notice. At the party’s urging Alan Keyes stepped in to give it a go, but he was no match for Obama’s flash and oratory. Keyes lost the race by the greatest margin in Illinois electoral history. A smirking Obama chortled, “My campaign had gone so well that it looked like a fluke.”
As you can see, Obama’s rise to national prominence has been almost completely struggle-free. His victories have been secured by the backroom machinations of his agents and allies. Why would Obama want to engage his opponents in public combat when Obama’s back-alley operatives can slip them the stiletto?
His run of dumb luck beggars the imagination. The quirky nature of the Democrat caucus system gave Obama an early jump start in Iowa, a system that particularly disadvantaged Senator Clinton. Had Iowans known of Obama’s raving racist pastor, Jeremiah Wright, and his unrepentant improvised-explosive-device building fellow radical William Ayres, Barack Obama’s political aspirations would be buried in a cornfield. But his luck held. The revelation of John Edwards’ squalid infidelity didn’t arrive in time to give Hillary an intimidating lead. Once the Iowa caucus count convinced black Americans that white voters would embrace Obama, a feel-good momentum began rising like a fever. Will that fever break before this mysterious man, who likens himself to a “blank screen,” is swept into the Oval Office?
How They Invented Barack Obama
With his usual tone of thoughtful conviction, Barack Obama promised, “I can unequivocally say I will not be running for national office in four years, and my entire focus is making sure that I’m the best possible senator on behalf of the people of Illinois.” (Chicago Sun Times, 11/4/04) He said this soon after his election to the U.S. Senate. Four days later he hammered the point home, telling a reporter that he had “ruled out” any thought of a presidential bid because “I am a believer in knowing what you’re doing when you apply for a job. And I think that if I were to seriously consider running on a national ticket, I would essentially have to start now, before having served a day in the Senate. There might be some people who are comfortable with doing that, but I’m not one of those people.” It was all captured on video. He was plotting his assault on the White House even as these lies left his lips. This greedy social climber had no intention of “wasting” his time in the U.S. Senate and he has spared little energy on being a senator. He did not assume his senate seat until 2005 and he spent most of 2007 and 2008 chasing the presidency. His senate absentee record is appalling: he has served a trivial 143 days in the Senate and he’s running for the presidency against a man who has served for twenty-seven years. Among men of experience he would be called a punk.
Now that I have explained how Obama sprinted up the ranks using a series no-contest elections as stepping stones, I will explain how B.O. was manufactured by the Chicago Machine.
Meet Emil Jones. Mister Jones has been called Obama’s “political Godfather.” In 2003 this influential fixer was Illinois’ senate president. That’s when state senator Obama approached him to request his assistance to become a United States senator.
Emil Jones had risen through Chicago’s patronage system from sewer inspector to senate president and now he was using patronage for the benefit of his family and friends. He has declared that Obama “feels like a son to me.” In 2003 Barack Obama had no noteworthy accomplishments as a state senator; his previous work as a “community organizer” amounted to no more that rallying people to rid a building of asbestos and pestering the City of Chicago to offer jobs to minority youth who lived below 57th Street. Obama had none of the legislative accomplishments suitable for someone seeking a U.S. Senate seat in 2004. Obama needed a legislative portfolio and he needed it fast. That’s why he went to his “Godfather,” Emil Jones.
Jones went to work bulking up Obama’s portfolio by allowing Obama to present important legislation that had been brought to near completion by other people. Sometimes these bills were snatched away from their authors without consent. Obama was given choice committee assignments. His chairmanship of the senate’s health committee allowed Obama to push legislation that favored the Service Employees International Union in Illinois. This union rewarded him with its endorsement.
His theft of other people’s high-profile legislation in its final stages didn’t win the egotistical Mister Obama any friends. State senator Rickey Hendon expressed his feelings toward Obama this way: “. . . no one wants to carry the ball ninety-nine yards, all the way to the one-yard line, and then give it to the halfback who gets all the credit and the stats in the record book.” To this day Obama boasts about sponsoring bills that were, in fact, the stolen efforts of others. The senators in Springfield called what Obama was doing “billjacking.” In the short stretch from 2003 to 2004 the patronage of Emil Jones puffed up Obama’s portfolio with 800 bills that Obama sponsored.
Jones understood the importance of keeping Obama’s image squeaky clean. He did this by keeping Obama away from controversial issues and heated debates. Obama voted “present” almost 130 times rather than leave a public record of his positions on controversial topics. Sometimes he would shun the senate chambers when voting would have been a test of his character. After his election to the U.S. Senate, Obama repaid Emil Jones with millions of dollars of earmarked money for Jones’ pet projects back in Illinois.
So let’s review: both Barack and his wife were admitted to prestigious colleges as “legacy” students; Barack’s work as a community organizer consisted of two modest projects, only one of which was ever completed; Barack became a state senator by slipping his first mentor, Alice Palmer, the stiletto and then getting all of his remaining political opponents scrubbed from the ballot. Barack won both his primary and general elections for the U.S. Senate because of last-minute revelations from his opponents’ divorce files, which spared Obama from the necessity of debating any tough issues. As soon as he arrived in Washington he began his quest for the Oval Office. He has spent most of 2007 and 2008 campaigning for the presidency. He has said, “I am new enough on the national political scene that I serve as a blank screen on which people of vastly different political stripes project their own views. As such, I am bound to disappoint some, if not all, of them.”
In short, he’s a cipher – a mysterious man with a snappy wardrobe and a gift for inspirational oratory. He seems suspiciously like Harold Hill, the smooth-talking bandmaster in The Music Man, who arrives from nowhere and tells the townsfolk that unwholesome things are happening in River City. Harold offers an expensive solution to save the town from moral decay. Barack Obama says our country has gone astray; he says our souls are broken; he says we need to learn foreign languages. His drumbeat mantra of “change we can believe in” captures his signature soft focus. He’s the Pied Piper of Springfield. Obama’s biographer, David Mendell, wonders at Obama’s “ingenious lack of specificity.” Democrat operative Bruce Reed imagines Obama to be “a kind of human Rorschach test.” (Rolling Stone, 2/22/07)
Obama offers the ultimate feel-good vagary: hope. His followers slap stickers on their bumpers that taunt swing voters with the query “got hope?” Is the subtext that those of us who do not share their certainty about the mysterious Mr. Obama are somehow hopeless beings condemned to live benighted lives outside Obama’s circle of light? Maybe we are just hoping for different stuff, like victory in the struggle against homicidal Islamist extremism, or an acknowledgement of the humanity of the unborn, or a President who does not pick our pockets just to keep his shiftless voter base securely inside his party’s welfare-state plantation. Maybe we hope for a government that will nurture creative free enterprise and then get out of our way.
When Obama’s teleprompter fails and he is suddenly deprived of his pre-packaged focus-group tested patter, he immediately begins to babble halting gray boilerplate. There is an audio recording of Obama stammering while trying to answer an unscripted question – it’s a long recording. But the liberal comedy writers can’t see any potential in Obama’s bouts of aphasia whenever the teleprompter sputters; they can’t see the Big Joke possibilities in starry-eyed audiences that put their faith in a messianic politician who was groomed by the Chicago Machine.
The candidate who has no real history of vigorous campaigning, who babbles bromides and who cocoons himself within a cult of personality is ripe for satire, but the liberal “professional comedy writers” remain stone-faced – grim as a heart attack. They so want the stylish Mr. Obama to win the election. If he ever does, the joke’s on us.
Thomas Clough
Copyright 2008
August 21, 2008