Back when George W. Bush was President, I would often lament the sorry state of American politics. Twice we had elected a man who could not form grammatically correct sentences. We had handed over top security codes to a guy who couldn’t pronounce “nuclear.” And yesterday, we found out that the Bushie administration had tried to yo-yo with our emotions by manipulating the terror alert system: “Let’s bump it up to Code Orange during the holiday weekend, just to clear out traffic on the roads. Dick Cheney has a hunting trip.”
So for eight years, I stewed. I vented. I called G-Dubs every synonym of “idiot” in the English language. And I widely expressed my belief that W. was possibly the worst president in the history of our country, which is saying quite a lot, given the legendary ineptitude of Warren G. Harding.
But after Obama was elected president, I figured I would have no more need to complain. Americans had finally come around. I was proud that we were smart enough, bold enough, and progressive enough to elect Obama. My hating would end.
It did not.
Now that Obama is President, I am lodging my complaints at complainers: birthers, neocons, fans of FOX News, Palins, gun nuts, and insurance executives. Instead of disaparaging the White House, I am turning around and throwing spitballs at the American public instead (except for the ones carrying assault rifles).
But really: Are we seriously that stupid to think the government will kill off the elderly through “death panels”? That universal healthcare will necessarily lead to hospitals overrun with illegal immigrants? That Obama’s parents decided to fly from Hawaii to Kenya, just so their baby boy could reap the rewards of Kenyan citizenship? Come on, people!
In the end, I suppose I’ll never be at ease unless I have no one to criticize. Now that Bush has retired to his new Texas farm life, I’ve found new targets for my parting shots. So Glenn Beck, Whole Foods, and town-hall wingnuts, beware. I’ll be on the attack with my socialist, Nazi-fed, Grandma-killing ideas. And if you’re part of the birther movement, I’m calling a terr0r-alert audible: we’re moving this up to a Code Red.