The tar-baby
Obama seems to be learning all about the tar-baby.
Many consider the idea of the tar-baby to have negative connotations for black Americans, but in fact it originated millennia ago as a device used by exasperated mothers and nurses to keep small children who were a bit too energetic and fractious busy with something harmless while Mama got some work done around the house or fields, or nurse got in a nap. In its original form, it was most likely a feather, reed, or long-stemmed cat-tail liberally smeared with honey, molasses, syrup, or some other sweet, sticky substance. It was handed to the young child, who would happily take it up, probably taste it (which is normal for small children, and in this case would make the child happy), and then begin to play with it. For awhile the child would be content to wave it around in the air or trace designs in the dust with it, but soon the child would tire of it, and try to get rid of it. At which point a nice game of how-do-I-get-rid-of-this-damned-thing would begin as the child tried to pluck it from one hand with his other, only to find the problem still remained. For about half an hour, the child would use one hand to take it from the other, then the other hand to take it from the first, back and forth and back and forth until ah-hah!, a little light would go on and the child would try scraping it off by means of a stick, a rock, or some other object. Finally succeeding in getting rid of it, the child would go try to find Mama or its nurse, or else look for something else to do. The "something else" could be the makings of a domestic disaster, except that by that point Mama/nurse, experienced in the ways of children, would be looking out for the child, and would intervene before the worst could happen.
Well, as Obama has been finding out the hard way, the US Presidency is a tar-baby. No matter what you do when you're in that office, you're stuck -- there's always somebody who hates you no matter what you do, and that "somebody" is usually a large, LOUD segment of the people of these United States and points east. It's the world's second-worst job -- the only one that's worse is that of Pope, and that only because the Pope's job is for life.
And now the job has just gotten tarrier than ever: Obama is now trying to juggle three, count 'em, three wars, including Iraq (winding down), Afghanistan (don't even think about it), and Libya (uh-oh), and nobody likes him. Or so it must seem to the man who, back in January 2009, was the One, loved by all (well, except for the people the mainstream media simply ignored, the conservatives of this nation, who aren't, after all, small in number), the Man Who Could Do No Wrong. Now every liberal in the country is yelling at him, the conservatives are snickering, and the Muslim Brotherhood is going apeshit.
Have fun, Bubba -- you just won the prize. The Booby of the Year Award. Enjoy. But don't look for a rock you can rub that goo-covered feather off on -- there won't be one available until at least November 2012. Unless you walk out of the job or die in the meantime, and I don't think you want to do that. You're stuck with the damned thing for the next umpteen months. Ain't you glad you ran for President?
Many consider the idea of the tar-baby to have negative connotations for black Americans, but in fact it originated millennia ago as a device used by exasperated mothers and nurses to keep small children who were a bit too energetic and fractious busy with something harmless while Mama got some work done around the house or fields, or nurse got in a nap. In its original form, it was most likely a feather, reed, or long-stemmed cat-tail liberally smeared with honey, molasses, syrup, or some other sweet, sticky substance. It was handed to the young child, who would happily take it up, probably taste it (which is normal for small children, and in this case would make the child happy), and then begin to play with it. For awhile the child would be content to wave it around in the air or trace designs in the dust with it, but soon the child would tire of it, and try to get rid of it. At which point a nice game of how-do-I-get-rid-of-this-damned-thing would begin as the child tried to pluck it from one hand with his other, only to find the problem still remained. For about half an hour, the child would use one hand to take it from the other, then the other hand to take it from the first, back and forth and back and forth until ah-hah!, a little light would go on and the child would try scraping it off by means of a stick, a rock, or some other object. Finally succeeding in getting rid of it, the child would go try to find Mama or its nurse, or else look for something else to do. The "something else" could be the makings of a domestic disaster, except that by that point Mama/nurse, experienced in the ways of children, would be looking out for the child, and would intervene before the worst could happen.
Well, as Obama has been finding out the hard way, the US Presidency is a tar-baby. No matter what you do when you're in that office, you're stuck -- there's always somebody who hates you no matter what you do, and that "somebody" is usually a large, LOUD segment of the people of these United States and points east. It's the world's second-worst job -- the only one that's worse is that of Pope, and that only because the Pope's job is for life.
And now the job has just gotten tarrier than ever: Obama is now trying to juggle three, count 'em, three wars, including Iraq (winding down), Afghanistan (don't even think about it), and Libya (uh-oh), and nobody likes him. Or so it must seem to the man who, back in January 2009, was the One, loved by all (well, except for the people the mainstream media simply ignored, the conservatives of this nation, who aren't, after all, small in number), the Man Who Could Do No Wrong. Now every liberal in the country is yelling at him, the conservatives are snickering, and the Muslim Brotherhood is going apeshit.
Have fun, Bubba -- you just won the prize. The Booby of the Year Award. Enjoy. But don't look for a rock you can rub that goo-covered feather off on -- there won't be one available until at least November 2012. Unless you walk out of the job or die in the meantime, and I don't think you want to do that. You're stuck with the damned thing for the next umpteen months. Ain't you glad you ran for President?