So it is done. He spoke eloquently and emphatically about hope and change for 21 months, and people listened. They do that, you know, particularly when a good shepherd leads the way.
Yes, the American sheeple have spoken, and quite clearly. Prince Showbama is now King-elect Showbama. I mean it. This has really happened. The promise of America has been fulfilled.
As we started rolling out the red carpet Tuesday on ALL the TV stations that could tune in (the anchors licking their chops as Electoral College numbers for The Star Candidate crept higher and higher), there was Jesse Jackson (who ran for and lost the 1988 Democratic nomination for president), crying in the audience in Chicago’s Grant Park. Were they tears for Martin Luther King, Jr., the teacher Jesse claims died in his arms? Were they for how far we’ve come since Jackie Robinson and Selma, Alabama, and Brown v. Board of Education and the 1964 Civil Rights Act? Were they for Jesse himself, who very much wanted to be the first black president (so long as he could keep accusing white people of inherently being racist)? There was John McLame, the kind, timid, clueless old man who, in the end, proved to be far less than the Fearless Leader he tried to evoke on the campaign trail, gracious in defeat before his supporters in Phoenix, his eyes bleary, tired, and red. Had he been crying, too? For lost opportunity? For a contest in which he never had a chance? (He had no convincing “hope and change” pitch, you see.) There were the interviews with Showbama supporters in Grant Park, awaiting an appearance of the King-elect, talking about “just wanting to be here to witness change.” Because, you know, hope and change, hope and change, hope and change (I’m sorry, did I lose my train of thought?) is what this election was all about. There was the diminutive George Stephanopoulous blathering on like the idiot he is (I mean, c’mon, he was X-42’s water boy!) about “seeing” in Showbama’s eyes “what he is about to accept”…when any self-respecting psychologist, psychiatrist, or writer worth their salt knows the eyes tell you NOTHING about what goes on in the human psyche or soul.
Yes, King Showbama will be the 44th president (despite U.S. Rep. John Murtha’s “racist’ constituency in Southwestern Pennsylvania, one of the early states to swing for the Democratic nominee -- an early telling sign that this election was heading King Showbama’s way).
In fact, if you weren’t a Democrat, you knew the election had to go Showbama’s way. After all, we had witnessed incredible failures in 2000 and 2004 to wrest the country from an illiterate (and now, obviously, irrelevant) Republican who thought the board game Risk had unilateral, and clear and present, implications in foreign desert nations. The timing was right (I have mentioned this before) for a pied piper to come along.
And so now we come to it. My, how King Showbama has his work cut out for him. The economy has tanked. We are at war in two nations (and perhaps soon others). We have racial divides as evident as they were in 1964, despite the “hope and change” of this election, in communities that are white or black or Mexican or Cuban or Muslim or Asian (just be white, and spend a little time in them alone). America is down. America is troubled. America is disturbed, confused, and tired. (Even illegal Mexicans are fleeing; there’s no work, you see.) We’re faced with increased taxes. (Showbama still isn't sure he likes the middle class, and don’t believe that his proposed tax hike applies ONLY to those making “$250,000 or more.”) Health insurance is failing, and you’ll be paying more for it (with less money to put clothes on your back and big-screen TVs in your living room and gas in your SUV) if national healthcare sees the light of day. Heck, you might not even have electricity anymore, if Showbama has his way and regulates coal-powered power plants out of business (now, there’s a stroke of brilliance). All the while, America is still confronted with an aging population (who, thanks to modern medicine, will live longer, with more chronic and expensive diseases, and forget more than any of us will ever know). And don’t forget that your youth is confused. (Should we play Wii, Xbox 360, PS3? Should we light our farts on fire and record it for youtube? There are just too many choices! It's, like, so confusing!)
Did I mention that our enemies are strong, maybe as strong as they were 8 years ago? And our allies are disgusted with us. Battles will continue; reparations will need to be made.
But hope and change is on the way. It comes in the guise of the first black president (forgive me if I don’t use Jesse’s made-up term of “African-American,” but I have friends from the islands who say it does not represent them).
“A government of the people, by the people, and for the people have not perished from the earth,” King Showbama said last night (bad grammar and all) during his acceptance speech at Grant Park, invoking the inevitable, John F. Kennedy. I wonder if he’ll rival JFK (or Slick Willie, for that matter) in his number of mistresses. (Yes, I know, what does screwing around in the Oval Office have to do with the ability to lead a country? Well...if your mind is elsewhere...Feed Your ADHD!)
Yes, King Showbama will ride in on his white unicorn and, qualified or not, experienced or not, with solid and coherent and convincing and achievable ideas or not, be challenged. It is up to him to prove he belongs. (As we know, the list of presidents who have not belonged is long, Republican and Democrat.)
Let’s hope King Showbama is up for the challenge, that he is, as Oprah called him, "The One."
And let’s pretend I’m from Missouri. Show me, King Showbama. Because I’ll be on your ass for the next four years.