This is one of the most amusing and correct-assessment articles ever written. It will take you a few minutes. Enjoy.
We have a president named “Obama.” If you believe your media — (hah!) — he is a kind of Ûbermensch, a more-than-human giant intellect. Or, as one addled dork said two years ago, Obama must be A Light Bringer. That’s why the Norwegian Nobel Prize committee got the hots for him so bad that they had to give him the big prize before he did anything. Like Algore’s Peace Prize, it was awarded for postmodern (Po-Mo) — that is, completely fictional — good intentions. No actual achievements were wanted or needed.
Since Marxist college professors are not going to do this job for us, I will now perform a postmodern “deconstruction” of the so-called “president” of the “United States.” (Those sneer quotes are Po-Mo sniggers for things that are obviously fictional except that normal people think they are real. Like “money” and “freedom.”)
Following in the footsteps of intellectual frauds like Derrida and Heidegger, I will now demonstrate to the complete satisfaction of snoring college students — granted, not a very demanding crowd — that Barack Hussein Obama does not exist; indeed, that the very idea of “Obama” is and always was a fiction.
And not a very clever one, either.
But the real goal of Po-Mo academic twaddle is to show how much smarter Marxists are than the rest of us. That’s why they delight in suckering people, demonstrating over and over again that yes, people can be lied to with great success. Especially liberals. It gives meaning to the lives of shriveled-up Marxists all over the world. Narcissism is the flip-side of feelings of inferiority.
The United States of America is now governed by a postmodern “construct.” The Nazis and Soviets invented the nonperson, a living human being who just went poof! one day and disappeared, even from official Pravda photos of vodka-sozzled Party thugs waving to the masses marching by Lenin’s tomb. Sometimes the desaparecidos were big Soviet apparatchiks. When Stalin was going strong, he disappeared whole cohorts of the Red Army officer corps and millions of Ukrainian peasants. Needless to say, the New York Times and the UK Guardian helped those folks to disappear by forgetting to write about them.
Obama did that trick in reverse. Instead of vanishing without a trace he just popped into existence, without a hint there was a living person there before, with parents, friends, college chums.
Example 1: Real people have college transcripts.
Example 2: Real people have gossipy friends who like to boast about their old buddy.
Example 3: Real politicians have voting records.
Example 4: Real people don’t have pdf layered birth certificates with blank spaces for the fill-ins.
Example 5. Real American blacks don’t have bio-dads in Africa. Their family lines are American, both black and white. Real American blacks go back hundreds of years in America.
See how easy this is? “Obama” is the little man who wasn’t there.
Yesterday upon the stair
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away
- William Hughes Mearns (1875-1965), from his play The Psyco-ed
Now the universities are still paying obscene salaries to English professors around the country, trying to prove to easily suckered kids that nothing is real, and indeed, that “existence” never existed. It’s like the old Beatles LSD song. “Nothing is real.”
Except that now we have whole scholarly arrays of journals and academic books to prove sheer, arrant nonsense. No Po-Mo professor ever wanted to live without a big, unreal check in dollars from Po-Mo U, to cash in for real food, nice clothing, the pleasure of being adored by easily fooled undergrads, and all the perks of life in the burbs. Including evil luxury cars, free medicine, and life tenure. The whole nine yards.
Got that? Postmodernism is either very profound, or it’s just another academic con like “global warming.” Take your pick.
In the recent Battle of the Budget, House Speaker John Boehner thought Obama was flip-flopping every hour just to head-fake the Republicans.
But fifty years ago Charles De Gaulle gave the answer: some people tell so many lies that they can’t keep track of the storyline. They never know if they’re lying even as the words are coming out of their mouths. De Gaulle described this strange experience of listening to himself without knowing if a single word was true. And without even caring.
When the Big Media and Hollywood are grinding out an endless stream of lies and goofy rationalizations, you never need to stop and check your facts. Maybe Rush Limbaugh and the conservative blogs will catch you out, but who cares? Who’s keeping track, except for a few million political junkies?
In medicine this is called confabulation. Alzheimer’s patients sometimes do it. Their memory is so damaged that they just keep making things up, in one slick stream.
For others it’s a professional skill.
George Bush was hee-hawed by the donkey mob for eight years, just for speaking in a hesitant and tongue-tied way. Since the words presidents use can have big boomerang effects around the world, Bush was always thinking before speaking. That was supposed to prove what a dummy he is. I once talked with a world-famous scientist who had a very slow speech pattern. Real geniuses are not necessarily glib.
Obama the cloud-borne genius is so slick that his tongue takes off on its own — off, off into the wild blue yonder. His mouth is moving, but inside he’s wondering if Michelle will let him have chocolate cake tonight.
American JourNOlists don’t care. They just scribble it down and then try to explain to us why Obama’s latest riff would make sense if only we were as smart as The One.
With the New York Times shedding readers and advertisers, they could outsource their daily gag writing to some outfit in Mumbai, India. Nobody could tell the difference.
Barry O is a PR creation as artificial as those Styrofoam Greek columns they used to mark his nomination at a Denver football stadium. Even his teenage hero Malcolm X dropped his birth name for “X” before he became a Black Muslim and supposedly found himself.
Changing your name doesn’t change who you are.
Today we have President X, a random variable who can take on any value from zero to infinity. The media will faithfully cut and paste his press releases, because they are too gutless and plastic themselves to challenge the daily lie.
Self-referential cults really do lose track of reality. Cults have been studied for decades. They are simple. Cults pop up whenever some magnetic leader controls the flow of information to some sad-sack bunch of people, and doesn’t let the outer world into the closed group. Since the sixties we’ve seen loads of them. Cults attract lost souls, because they give them a safe place to prop up their fragile egos. Cult members always feel above the zhlobs in the outer world.
Cults are so cut-and-dried that you could start your own mail-order Make-Your-Own kit for $19.95, with all the fixin’s.
The modern left is a stage act, a PR front, not backed by Stalin’s clout with the assassin’s bullet. The leftist media are not Lavrenti Beria, who killed and tortured whoever got in his way, including tens of thousands of faithful Soviet Communists.
But you can’t say you weren’t warned. According to Obama’s two autobiographies, he cobbled together his personal identity from the flotsam and jetsam of third-world Socialism drifting around the college left in the late 1970s. This was long after the real third world figured out that Marxism was just another European scam designed to keep the former colonies poor, ignorant, and in thrall to ideologues. Socialism is after all just another kind of European imperialism. Karl Marx grew up in Imperial Prussia at the height of fever, and wrote his “great work” in Britain at the peak of Queen Victoria and the British Empire. Post-colonialism is just another imperial head trip from London, Paris, and Berlin.
Every head-chopping empire in human history has claimed to be progressive, compassionate, and wise, just as the lollygagging left is doing today. The Japanese Empire boasted of its “East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere.” See, it was good for those murdered Chinese in Nanking to kowtow to the Emperor of Japan. They just didn’t know when to surrender for their own good.
Sounds familiar, right? Marx, Mao, and Mohammed had a lot in common.
Obama’s ideology is also for our own good. Just ask any liberal begging on a street corner. They’ll explain it to you.
The young Barry O was actually a sad character from Oliver Twist, an abandoned orphan. Rad-left ideology was his only constant in life. He was handed over from one “mentor” to another one, the child of the CPUSA over all its shape-changing ways. Which means he was nobody’s child. No wonder he has a chip on his shoulder. Everybody hailed him as the next Savior, and nobody cared enough to be there for him.
I don’t know if O is a Man Without A Country. He certainly is A Man Without A Me.
Obama’s me-me-me books explain that Barry Soetoro’s teenage hero was his Kenyan bio-dad, who abandoned him as an infant on his way to save the revolution while scattering wild oats around the Western left. As Jack Cashill has shown pretty convincingly, Obama’s bestselling autobiography was ghostwritten, probably by Bill Ayers.
In the real world that’s called “a lie.”
Fast forward to the year 2008, and Obama’s phony rock-star campaign is cobbled together by PR millionaire Axelrod, who boasts about astroturfing mobs — the targeted micro-version of those “spontaneous demonstrations” that magically showed up for all the Communist agitators from Karl Marx to Kim III in North Korea.
Obama is therefore a third-order legend: like some tired old Zeppelin balloon the media keep trying to pump up Obama’s fantasies about bio-dad, jury-rigged by preteen mentor Mad Frank Marshall Davis, the child porn writer, poet, and CPUSA member in Hawaii.
Decades later Obama’s identity was again transmogrified by Bill Ayers to fit the mythology of the New York Times.
And then of course the fabulous campaign of 2008, followed by four years of what was supposed to be general amazement, worship of The One, prosperity for all, and Social Justice. Finally
Obama is therefore a myth about a myth about a myth. I think I’ve lost track of all his masks, but let’s call it between three and five.
Po-Mos rejoice! Reality-based folk might worry about nuclear weapons spreading to paranoid dictators in North Korea, Iran, and maybe the island of Vanuatu. But triple-lies are alive and thriving in the West, like some virus popping a bacterium that’s gobbling wood fibers in the gut of a termite, and all the termites are now gnawing away at the foundations of our homes.
And poor, fat Marx thought that capitalists were the exploitative class!
Little did he know.
The last real people to serve as Democrat presidents were Harry Truman and LBJ. Ever since then, the Democrats have been getting phonier and phonier. Kennedy’s fake book got him a Pulitzer Prize, and if you think the inner Cult of Kennedy doesn’t know that, you aren’t cynical enough yet.
Something stunning happened last week when John Kerry’s phony Swift Boat front man was finally nabbed by the cops and had his phony Silver Star pulled.
It looks like a seething bunch of Navy guys and gals finally got their own back on Phony John Kerry and his gross abuse of Vietnam heroes. The wheels of justice grind slowly, but occasionally they do spit out a bag of pus.
Obama is just as Styrofoam as Phony John Kerry, but he pulled enough wool over enough eyes to win. That’s the only difference.
After watching the Story of O these many months, we can probably agree that he is not a flesh-and-blood person. The pieces never fit together. Like the Wizard of Oz, Obama might disintegrate on contact with truth. On a hot day you can see the cheap glue already beginning to run down his wattle and daub exterior.
In the jargon of cultural Marxism, “Obama” is ready to be deconstructed.
He never was more than a po-mo dream in the first place.