The conduct of the current president and his two immediate predecessors warrants special study by medical and psychiatric associations. Let’s briefly recap.
One fellow struggles with objective reality or criticism. He has created an aura about himself that would make any public relations agency proud. Solved the deficit problem. Left a surplus. Repaid debt. Build lasting international relationships. First black president. And now gallivants around the globe in the private aircraft of the extremely well to do solving problems that are rooted back in the time of Solomon. Solved that one; moving on to the next. His initiative is not for his country anymore; it is global. He struts around with the barons of industry; the blood lines of kings. He no longer chases fawning interns; he has learned. He has become his own eye candy. He is delusional. He’s Global Rambo.
Another fellow wisely has withdrawn. Locked the door. Pulled the shades down. Sits quietly in the darkened room. No more aircraft landings for this fellow. All dressed up in daddy’s uniform but wisely sitting in the jump seat. Banners flying. Anticipated accomplishments all ballyhooed up and quite visibly displayed. Wisecracks a plenty: dead or alive; don’t mess with Texas; bring 'em on. Surrounded with daddy’s associates, he blithely moves the chess pieces and, after each move, looks up and around to see if anyone noticed that he has no clue as to what he just did. He grins. Aw shucks. Delusional. He’s Daddy’s Rambo.
And most recently, the man whose clothes are being paid for with foreign borrowings and credit card bills that will be presented to his grandchildren; the man who travels with hundreds in a retinue fit for an Arab prince with producing oil wells; the man who skips out on his one major task (DEBT) but rather prances around on the efforts of others; sneaks on the field after watching the game from his basement shelter; has the groundskeeper turn on all the lights; calls in the most obeying of all the sycophants in the media and replays the game; minute by careful minute and then wanders to the end zone; picks up the football and, with the smugness that only the delusional can muster; spikes the ball. Meanwhile, the real players have long since left the field. Avoiding the spotlight. And guess what? He did it without a teleprompter? He is so proud of himself. Who says people can’t change? Six more years of this delusion? He’s Basement Rambo.
Do they learn this behavior in the eastern schools and the overseas trips and the ghost written books that they tout? Or is there a Manchurian candidate school that this very moment is turning out the next one? On our East coast? California? Or, in Manchuria? Is it possible that they were switched at birth? Could it be that we really do have a birther issue only not the one that the Donald was so concerned with? Could these three be plants from an enemy training camp; masterfully designed to play to our fears; our dreams; our hopes; our audacious yearnings? Switched at birth as part of a large design? Hard to believe the conspiracy theorists but can it be coincidental that one country; for 20 years running now has managed to locate and elevate and tolerate the most delusional goofballs ever to grace the people’s house at 1600 Pennsylvania avenue? Three consecutive times now? Beggars the imagination.
Or could it just be that we are drawn to those with the most pronounced feet of clay? We can detect true delusional behavior and we just must have more. Could it be that we have evolved in this mythology driven land of ours with all its plenty and superiority that we just plain like the story and we want to keep it going? We’ll take a pass on the reality checks, thank you very much. Don't you dare tell us the truth. We are perfectly okay with this self destructive gene that now dominates our behavior; our leadership selection process?
We hate to crack the door on this behavior but there is one small problem that we may wish to consider before it’s too late. We’re broke. Going up to the attic and dressing up in the clothes of heroes past and waving daddy’s sword around and glancing in that mirror that makes us look “oh, so thin” is not going to change the simple fact that we’ve spent the trust fund. We ran out of dinero a while back. Rambo is running on fumes.
Sorry to remind you. This brief reality check. So, let’s get back to the story line. Let’s see if we can find one more of these characters. These delusional fools. White House Rambo’s. It’s almost time to do it again.
No comments:
Post a Comment