It’s always entertaining to witness the bizarre spectacle of Lefties suddenly and mysteriously contracting a sever case of moral indignation, symptomatically hissing with venom the “H” word. They’re now crawling out of their holes like so many crusading cockroaches. Brandishing one of their favorite epithets from their lexicon, “hypocrite”, they’re on the warpath. Nothing sets them off so much as much as the moral lapse of an evil conservative.

I’m not defending Governor Mark Sanford. At this point, I wouldn’t want him to be our president someday. Not so much for his “indiscretion” as for his stupidity in thinking he could jet off to Argentina for six days for a tryst and not be discovered. His bizarre press conference didn’t exactly help his case, either.

Liberals revel with glee in revelations that a conservative who espouses family values has violated those values, giddy with delight in knowing a Republican—especially a Christian one—has failed to live up to his own standards. At least conservatives have moral standards. When conservatives miss the mark, at least they’re aware that they’ve sinned against God’s transcendent law. Liberals, on the other hand, can cavort and copulate like mink without the slightest compunction.

It’s easy for conservatives to condemn the philandering escapades of an Elliot Spitzer. It’s much harder to label him a hypocrite. That’s because such immoral behavior is subtly—and, sometimes, not so subtly—endorsed and promoted by the secular Left. Who do you think championed the sexual revolution and the idiotic notion of “free love” in the seventies? Who do you think elevated Bill Clinton to the status of a rock star in spite of (or because of?) his unseemly sexual dalliances and peccadilloes? It’s no coincidence that it’s the ACLU that strives tirelessly to have the Ten Commandments removed from courthouses and other public buildings.

Mark Sanford, an Episcopalian, may avail himself of God’s forgiveness for breaking one of God’s commandments. And hopefully, Elliot Spitzer, too, has been absolved of his moral failure—getting caught—by his own Higher Power, his Inner Self. (It’s much easier to “obey”—if that word even applies—the feckless promptings of one’s own confused inner divinity than the unambiguous commandments of the Eternal God.)

It should come as no surprise that President Obama finds inspiration in the life of Dr. Martin Luther King. What’s more perplexing, perhaps, is that the president has, in fashioning His foreign policy, taken His cue from another luminary of twentieth-century thought, the eminent and renowned philosopher, Rodney King, who’s entire body of work can be encapsulated rhetorically in his singular dictum C-c-c-can’t we all just g-g-et along?. Stirred by the plaintive cry of this heart-felt prescript, the professorial Obama and His Ivy-League policy wonks have brilliantly applied it to geopolitics. (A corollary to the Rodney Doctrine, as it’s referred to by the State Department, is an Obama innovation known as Abject Americanism—not to be confused with American Exceptioalism—which can be expressed as “we’ve been very, very bad and we’re really, really sorry”.)

So far, given the “election” in Iran and with that police state defiantly pursuing the bomb, the NoKos imprisoning American citizens and itching to go nuclear, Hamas still lobbing missiles at civilians in Israel, homicide bombers continuing to target Baghdad mosques and markets, Chavez flirting with Russia and China and threatening to export revolution throughout Latin America, a wobbly Pakistan a hornets’ nest of Islamo-fascists, a resurgent Taliban in Afghanistan, Putin salivating at the prospect of subjugating Georgia and other regions to restore the glory of Mother Russia, genocide in Darfur, Gitmo like a bad rash that just won’t go away, Somali maritime thugs impersonating Captain Jack Sparrow, the Saudi royals financing al-Qaeda, Tibetans still being devoured by The Dragon—did I miss anything?—so far, The Prince of Peace’s strategy seems to be working!

The fine television series 24 has generally done well in withstanding the malignancy of creeping Political Correctness. The show has never been timid when depicting extremist terrorism or the drastic measures that are sometimes required to counter such evil. But, in the finale of the seventh season, the show’s producers lost their resolve, proving that even 24 is not impervious to the subtle lure of insidious PC dogma.

In one of the closing scenes, Jack Bauer is on his deathbed, wrestling with the demons that still taunt him. He has, after all, in the service of protecting his country from unthinkable perils, done things that the more civilized and sensitive among us could never carry out, acts that were often morally reprehensible (such as once executing a friend, Ryan Chappelle, then head of the Counter Terrorism Unit, in order to potentially save the lives of thousands of Americans).

So, as the nerve gas to which he has been exposed slowly steals away his remaining hours, who does Jack reach out to for spiritual comfort, for some sort of absolution? A Catholic priest? A Baptist minister? No. Jack calls upon the Imam from the local mosque. In the context of the storyline, it wasn’t a purely random choice. Jack had earlier aggressively confronted this same Muslim cleric as a link to another Muslim who was suspected to be involved in an imminent terroristic plot. As events unfold, the cleric, initially hostile to his inquisitor, comes to respect Jack Bauer.

It is, therefore, not entirely implausible that Jack would seek out this Muslim as his confessor. But, on the other hand, it would not have been implausible for Jack Bauer to call upon a Christian minister either. Jack’s religious inclinations—if he even has any—have never been revealed. But it’s a safe bet that Jack had never been raised in the Muslim faith. Given his German surname, Jack might very well have been baptized as a Catholic or a Lutheran. Maybe his Christian faith had lapsed. But, when you’re about to cross that final threshold, it’s not inconceivable that you might just want to revisit your own spiritual wellspring and not wade into unfamiliar waters.

In today’s politically correct world, the true evils are Christianity and Judaism. In spite of Islam’s atrocious treatment of women and gays, two of the Left’s most prized victims, this “religion of peace” is tolerated, even coddled, by liberals. (Tolerance is a PC virtue—except when Christians or Jews are in the picture.) Portraying an Evangelical as a buffoon in a sit-com is hilarious. Depicting a Catholic priest as, inevitably, a pedophile is cutting-edge. Scrutinizing a Muslim at an airport is profiling and an outrage.

There’s a chance Jack will survive. His daughter, Kim, is willing to offer her father some of her stem cells. Should we be treated to an eighth season of 24, I wonder if Agent Bauer will now be wearing a kaftan and a kufi prayer cap.

I heard White House Press Secretary Robert Gibbs mention that, although the president would not be participating in the National Day of Prayer this year, He did “pray every day”. That got me to thinking. Just who does Barry pray to? When one prays, one must be praying to someone. Four possibilities present themselves.

As a professing Christian, Barry, it might be presumed, prays to Jesus…

Barry: Dear Jesus. Please Lord, I need your guidance and wisdom. Lead me in all Thy ways.

Jesus: My son, thou art the one I have chosen—The One, if you prefer—who has been raised up in these Last Days to lead the people, like Moses (and Me and Honest Abe and FDR and JFK and, even, Reagan) before thee, out of the wilderness. You’re doing a great job so far. Reassuring the rest of the world that America was not a Christian nation—brilliant! I’m particularly impressed by your assault on all those little terrorists in the womb. Keep up your holy holocaust, my son. Also, you’re doing a terrific job harassing and marginalizing those whacko Evangelicals—I love that line you came up with, “bitter-clingers”; priceless—who have always been such a pain in the butt and an embarrassment to My Kingdom. Don’t worry, my son, I’ve got your back.

Certain conspiracy theorists insist that Barack Hussein Obama is really a closet-Muslim. I’m not sure I buy that. But, if true, then He might very well be praying to Allah…

Hussein: Allah ahkbar! Allah ahkbar! Allah ahkbar!

Allah: My Son, verily, verily I say unto Thee, Thou art the true Imam Mahdi spoken of by my servant and prophet for this age, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Do not be deceived by my prophet’s diminutive size, simian features or his psychotic babbling. As John The Baptist paved the way for the Prophet Jesus, my Iranian prophet shall pave the way for The Glorious One (You). Just follow Mahmoud’s lead, okay?

Hussein: Allah ahkbar! Allah ahkbar! Allah ahkbar!

Then there’s the remote possibility that Barry is, in fact, God Incarnate Himself. So perhaps His prayer time consists of a dialogue He is having with His Inner Messiah (much like a regular liberal dialogues with his inner child). This is, admittedly, a stretch. But if any uber-narcissist could pull it off, the hubristic Barack Hussein Obama could.

That leaves one final possibility. Could Barry The Devout be praying to the god of this world? I’m not suggesting that He is decorating the White House with pentagrams and candles or practicing Santeria in the Oval Office. In spite of the fact He’s part Kenyan—witchcraft is widely practiced in that country—Barry is just too sophisticated, too centered, to indulge in such uncouth religious expression.

But let’s face it. The Left has always worshipped the god of this world. When your ideology forces you to abandon any notion of a transcendent Deity that holds you morally responsible for your actions, then you’re left with the only alternative, the god who proclaims, “if it feels good, do it!”. As Chesterton put it, when one stops believing in God, one does not believe in nothing; he believes in anything. Or as Sartre formulates, if God is dead, then anything is permitted. Especially the humanistic enterprise to create Heaven on Earth (without any help or interference from a meddling anachronistic God).

From the very beginning the enticement was there: you, too, can be gods! This is the religion that is natural to Barry. Like the Jacobists and the communists before Him, Barack is a True Believer. Like His Bolshevik predecessors, He has pledged to remake the world. Don’t get me wrong. Barry is no Stalinist. His massive ego would never permit that. He is uniquely an Obamanist Who transcends all the previous icons of the Left. When He’s not worshipping Himself, Barack Hussein Obama prays faithfully to the god of this world. No wonder Barry’s decided to diss this year’s National Day of Prayer.

For a Guy Who wants to own and run General Motors, Chrysler, the major banks, Wall Street investment firms, insurance entities, Big Oil corporations, the pharmaceutical companies and your HMOs, President Barry sure seems reluctant to own His presidency (not to mention appearing incapable of running it, given His frequent missteps and complete lack of executive experience.) I mean, enough with the continuous and liturgical blaming George W. Bush for every ill known to Mankind. Sure, Barack did get handed a plateful of economic woes, some of which began germinating as far back as the Carter years and mutating during Clinton’s time. But, after all, this is the job He applied for. Did He really think running the country would be as easy as community organizing? Enough, already, with the whining. It’s un-presidential and unmanly. George Bush had way too much class to publicly blame Slick Willy at every turn for all the problems he had to deal with. Besides, let’s not forget that W, himself, inherited a recession and a geopolitical mess, a partially opened can of Islamo-fascistic worms, from his predecessor. Presidential tenures are not quanta, discreet packets of history, with discreet demarcations. They blend and blur from one to the next, muddied by the perpetuity of career bureaucrats, advisers, lawmakers and jurists. Every president inherits headaches from those who came before.

The First Teenager’s Bush-bashing tantrums, both at home and abroad, are bad enough. But last week Barry took His presidential pouting to a new level when He launched His immensely popular “Dissing Amerika World Tour”, contritely standing, chastened, before Queens, Parliamentarians, Heads of State, Sheiks, the Euro-intelligentsia and anybody else within hear shot, with His hat in hand, humbled and penitent for His country’s wretched past, particularly the last eight years. Oh how the Adolescent One yearned to be forgiven, affirmed and accepted by the elders. He repented on America’s behalf for her failure to properly recognize Europe’s “great leadership”. (Maybe He was referring to the great leadership shown by the Europeans when the United States had to come in and put a stop to the ethnic cleansing going on in Europe’s own backyard in the Balkans?) At one point, our Boy Monarch even genuflected before fellow-Muslim, the Saudi King, in a full bow (although Pravda-USA insisted that He was merely stooping to pick up a stick of gum He’d dropped, another one of those embarrassingly tacky “gifts” the Obama administration has become known for, when proffering it to His Highness, King Abdullah). As Mark Steyn put it, “Only waiters bow at the waist”. All this is part of Obama’s new foreign policy initiative known as Strength Through Subservience, a radical, leveling approach to international relations based on the dubious liberal notion of moral equivalency. (I don’t know about you, but all this makes me wax nostalgic for some good ol’ “cowboy diplomacy”.)

This week, upon Barry O’s return home to The Evil Empire, the White House announced that the Prez would be firing up, yet again, Air Force One for a quick, carbon-burning trip, with entourage in tow, out to L.A. to begin work on His new hip-hop album, a companion project to the recently-concluded and wildly-successful “Dissing Amerika World Tour”. According to David Axelrod, a music video showcasing one of Barack’s own songs from the upcoming album, Michelle Be Bitchin’—the song should have wide appeal; urban listeners will take it to mean she’s hot, conservatives, that she’s mean—will also be shot in the coming weeks. And Rahm Emmanuel has announced that plans are already in the works for the first annual “Dis America Pageant” (which, it’s rumored, will feature a burqa competition), to be hosted by—Who else?—President GQ, Himself. So watch for that!

For Barack Hussein Obama, this country’s very first (and, therefore, historic) metrosexual president, image is everything, whether His own (which is manufactured) or America’s (which, once, was based on its exceptionalism). In the Age of Obama, it’s imperative that 1) we’re liked by everyone around the world—America having its very own Sally Fields moment—and 2) look good in the process. Barry may very well be leading His nation down the road to perdition but, by golly, He’s going to do it with style!

And if the lapdog press ever awakens from its hazy narcotic state and finally starts challenging our president to own up to the mess He’s creating, Barry can, no doubt, rise to greatness and continue to blame it all on the “last eight years”.

It’s beginning to dawn on Americans that there’s a big difference between running a successful political campaign and actually governing a nation. The loyal opposition tried to warn the voting public that Obama had zero zip nada executive experience. The Guy was a “brilliant” wonk with a flare for oratory and a knack for raising campaign donations but Who, in His entire life, had never run any company, organization or office. But his defenders countered with, “yes, but look at how he’s run his amazing campaign”. Obama, Himself, cited this as evidence that He had “executive experience”.

Fast forward to the present. We’re now witnessing President Obama flailing about, desperately trying this strategy or that to screw up—er, fix—the economy, sending out contradictory messages—we should be afraid, no, wait, we shouldn’t be afraid—and still struggling to assemble His cabinet (after an embarrassing number of missteps).

One fact remains. His presidency is truly historic. He is, after all, the first Affirmative Action President in our nation’s history. I can already hear the indignant rants: “racist!” Even now I can hear the PC Patrol banging down my front door. (Incidentally, Obama represents another historical first: He’s the first president ever to use a teleprompter and a pre-determined list of journalists to call upon in an attempt to get through a press conference.)

But if the term “racist” applies, it sticks to the liberals—the ones who invented “affirmative action” in the first place—who were hell-bent on making sure that an African-American of dubious character with a shady past and an anemic résumé be elevated to the highest office in the land at any cost, for the sheer historical novelty of such an eventuality. The pathetic (and criminal?) malfeasance of the media in propping up Obama during the campaign is well-documented. The myth-making machinery was thrust into high gear to sell us The One. All that mattered was that an African-American won the election because it was, after all, only fair. It was time. Obama was due. This was The Change we had all, presumably, been waiting for.

Barry Obama is not without talent or intelligence. He certainly has charm. But He was hired for a job He was woefully inadequately prepared for, a fact even His soaring (and increasingly boring and disjointed) rhetoric cannot dispel. Anybody’s entitled to a few mistakes at a new job but, let’s face it, The Kid-In-Chief is out of His depth.

Even before His inauguration, President-Elect Obama was being heaped with praise by the punditariat for how rapidly and decisively He was acting to form His cabinet. Never in the history of our nation had a president acted with such dispatch to assemble a team of brilliant confidants who would help Him tackle head-on the most difficult situation America had ever faced. He hadn’t even been sworn in yet as Our Dear Leader and already His cabinet was taking shape. The message was clear: He would be ready to hit the ground running to deal swiftly with the enormity of the unprecedented crisis threatening our very existence.

Well, now almost three months into His administration, He’s still trying to complete the appointments of those who would comprise His cabinet. His Secretary of The Treasury, Timmy Geithner, is still woefully understaffed. One would think that this important position, first and foremost, would be shored up with all the talented and dedicated people needed to help Mr. Geithner execute his office at this critical juncture. Other cabinet appointees, as well, are yet to be named.

It turns out that Barry’s remarkable achievements in assembling His team were slightly overstated. The dirty little secret is out: it would be easy for any president, in record time, to throw together willy-nilly a bunch of rag-tag public servants when you don’t bother to vet them first. In Obama’s case, this is particularly fitting when you consider that He, Himself, wasn’t properly vetted.

BH₂O

What manner of Man is this that even the elements are named after Him? Thus did the people wonder after The One.- The Book of Lucas (Chapter 13: Verse 21)

It’s now confirmed that three of the elements appearing on the Periodic Table are to be renamed. By scientific consensus—the methodology currently favored by paranoid and sanctimonious scientists—the following elements of our Universe, after approximately fifteen billion years, will now be renamed. Boron (black in appearance) will now be known as the substance Barack (also black in appearance). Hydrogen, the building block of the Cosmos, is now named Hussein. And Oxygen, the very essence of life, henceforth shall be called Obama.

Off the record, a White House spokesperson, when asked to comment on this coup by the radical nomenclators, noted that this was even cooler than Barry’s being nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize.

Already alchemists are feverishly working, combining these three elements in innumerable ways, hoping to turn worthless Treasury notes into gold. So far, however, they’ve only managed to come up with a gelatinous substance that disturbingly looks like Spam^® and a gaseous vapor with an uncanny and embarrassing resemblance to methane.

It’s usually conservatives that— for the most part, unfairly— get pegged as being narrow-minded. Liberals, on the other hand, tend to think of themselves as “expansive” and “inclusive” in their outlook. But when it comes to this notion of the Fairness Doctrine, it’s the liberals who have dramatically narrowed their focus. They talk about protecting the “public” airwaves from unbridled bias and political demagoguery. But, curiously, they have targeted only a small sector of the radio spectrum, specifically that sector defined by the range of 535 kHz to 1605 kHz which just happens to coincide with what we call AM radio.

Here’s the rub. For whatever the reasons, conservatives kick butt in AM Radio Land. They rule. Al Franken and Janeane Garofalo notwithstanding, upon take off Air America (liberals' answer to Rush Limbaugh) stupendously crash-landed. Of all the forms of broadcasting, AM radio is probably the most populist. No glitzy imagery, no zinging graphics, no “cerebral” chattering class, no pretty-boy anchorman spoon-feeding you tasty, easily digestible nuggets of  politically correct “news”. Just regular Joes engaging in real conversations—sometimes friendly, sometimes not— on a wide range of topics that matter to ordinary people.

You’d think this situation would be looked upon as healthy. After all, even though conservatives are in the driver’s seat, plenty of pissed off liberals are constantly calling in to the talk radio shows to do battle. I thought the free exchange of ideas was a good thing for democracy. Not according to Senators Stabenow, Harkin, Schumer and McCaskill to name but a few. Even Bill “Bubba” Clinton has weighed in, agreeing that “balance” (as defined by Democrats) must be mandated by government bureaucrats. The Bolsheviks shared those same concerns and strived to enforce their own brand of “fairness” (also sometimes referred to as “the Party line”).

But what about the rest of the radio wave spectrum? What about TV broadcasting? To be genuinely fair, shouldn’t we apply the Fairness Doctrine to PBS, the major networks and all the cable stations? Let every Katie Couric utterance be balanced by Sean Hannity—just to be fair.  Imagine a Meet The Press roundtable forum with two liberals and two conservatives instead of the usual lynch mob (with the occasional token Republican tossed in once in a great while).

What about ensuring balance and fairness in the realm of private mobile phone conversations? While on your cell phone, if you happen to opine, shouldn’t your friend on the line be required immediately to hear a countervailing view point? How about satellite communications? If the NSA breaks China's cryptic code, discovering a nuclear attack on California is imminent, shouldn't we first hear out other points of view? If SETI ever does someday receive a transmission from outer space, shouldn’t every galactic civilization out there have the right to make a rebuttal in the interest of fairness and balance?

And, while we’re at it, let’s not limit the Fairness Doctrine to airwaves and broadband. Let’s extend it to college campuses and university faculties. Let’s apply the doctrine to print media (while they’re still around). How about award shows? Fairness demands that if the bloated bloviator, Michael Moore, is allowed to spew his nonsense at the Academy Awards ceremony, then let someone else, maybe Dennis Miller, have equal time. (Of course, the downside would be making this pompous and excruciatingly long self-love fest even longer and more tedious.)

To be really generous, let’s extend the Fairness Doctrine to LIFE itself. After all, it’s so inherently and decidedly unfair. This, in fact, has been one of the lofty (and delusional) goals of the Progressive Left all along.

The problem is this: there is an implicit contradiction between freedom and equality. Pure, unadulterated “freedom” describes anarchy; and there’d hardly be equality in such a dog-eat-dog society. Abstract “perfect” equality and fairness might please egghead academics but would amount to a stultifying sameness where the gifted and exceptional would no longer be free to transcend the gravitational pull of the lowest common denominator. As Americans we strive for both freedom and equality, but there will always be tension between the two. Genuine “fairness”— an ideal never to be perfectly achieved in this world— is something messy and organic (like Life itself) that grows out of the natural order of things, out of the billions of interactions between free people. It’s not something that can be synthesized in a government laboratory. Well, maybe it could be synthesized— at great expense. But the end result would be something artificial and monstrous. Call it what you like, but, to be fair, it wouldn’t be fair.

The devious way in which Obama Bin Lyin' is urgently—dare say, frantically—pressing His case for some immediate "stimulation" is starting to feel like date rape. President Obama saying, "Let's not get hung up on the details" is like a feverish Lothario Obama saying to His narcotized "girlfriend", "Let's not get hung up on your silly protests and pleadings". Well, He is, after all, a supreme narcissist who must not be denied. His defiant, in-your-face political proclamation, "I won", is tantamount to "drop 'em and bend over". And now He's pimping fear big-time by telling us a whopper: if we don't get it on, like NOW, then the economy will NEVER recover. And all the slobbering Media temple prostitutes who worship The Adonis said, "Amen".

It was reported today that Al Franken has been named the official court jester to King Obama and His Royal Court, much to the dismay of many plebes throughout the realm. The cause for such dismay is not so much political as a matter of aesthetic taste. Many feel that the caustic Mr. Franken, while certainly cartoonish and funny-looking, is simply not, in fact, very funny (in spite of his life-long career as a so-called comedian). Polling data gathered earlier today show that the majority of serfs as well as most merchants and aristocrats believe that the king’s previous court jester, Joe Biden, is much funnier and overwhelmingly more entertaining than the sour dullard Franken. At this time when the kingdom faces grave perils at home and abroad, when we all long for a little levity, for anything to distract us from the morose, Joe’s renegade antics and goofy ejaculations will sorely be missed. Alas, we've now been bequeathed the toxic Al Franken who may not be funny but is certainly a joke.

In today’s financial turmoil, many sectors of our economy are hurting. Even some recession-proof industries like prostitution are suffering a downturn. The term “bailout” has been— hopefully not forever— seared into our national consciousness and woven into our modern vernacular. Without bailouts, it would appear that some industries might even go the way of the “horse and buggy” (like print media, for example, if failing newspapers around the country are any indication).

However, not all is doom and gloom. Wal-Mart, lauded by the right and reviled by the left, continues to do well. Micky D’s is also hanging in there. Bakeries continue to bake bread (although buying a loaf may someday require a wheelbarrow full of bank notes if the Fed keeps madly creating fiat money en mass).

Thanks to one brave, courageous “visionary”, I suspect another industry has been miraculous saved from slumping sales and the prospect of failure. I’m referring to the Iraqi journalist and one lucky post-Saddam patriot, Muntadhar al-Zeidi, who, perhaps, single-handedly has saved the shoe-maker industry. And maybe, just maybe, the entire global economy.

What, at first, appeared to be an isolated incident of freedom of expression by one sole (pun intended) privileged Iraqi citizen who, ironically, was afforded such freedom by the very guy— his arch enemy (again, pun intended) — who he was aiming his shoe missiles at— this very same practice of “projectile dissent” has begun to catch on big time. Reports are coming in daily now from around the world of various protestors taking up Mr. Al-Zeidi’s mantle, while taking off their own shoes to fling at some perceived oppressor or tyrant or government official somewhere or another. The World Court in The Hague has agreed to review a case where the mayor of Rotterdam is alleging he was recently the victim of a hate crime since the dissident Dutchman who assailed him had used wooden shoes, essentially, weaponized footwear.

So, it would seem, we are witnessing a planetary “booty call”, as it were.

It’s just a matter of time before malcontents (read: loony leftists) in this country will adopt this powerfully symbolic and visceral expression of dissent.  In fact, some anti-Prop 8 activists have already employed this tactic but with little impact thus far due to the use of soft-leather loafers and the fact that most of them throw like girls (except, notably, one bull dike southpaw the New York Mets are taking a look at).

This world-wide shoe mania is the very economic stimulus Obama has been looking for and can only bode well for shoe manufactures who will be rushing to meet the new demand for shoes as millions around the globe begin hurling footwear willy-nilly whenever they feel alienated or just pissed off and feel like pitching a hissy fit. Already shoe companies are anticipating huge surges in the demand for stiletto heels and steel-toed work books, in particular. Word on the street has it that Richard Reid, the convicted shoe bomber, is working from within the confines of the Big House on a deal to set up his own shoe-wear company whose slogan is reported to be “Get More Bang From Your Bucks©”.

This revival of the shoe industry will have residual effects as well. It is likely to be a boon to landfill contractors who will have to find additional room for billions of metric tons of discarded shoes, boots and sandals. Cattle ranchers and leather tanneries will no doubt benefit. Maybe even podiatrists if the well-heeled— damn those puns! — keep switching shoes with wild and reckless abandon.

Furthermore, it’s rumored that Fisher-Price® is about to unveil a new game, Shoe Toss™, targeted for the pre-school set where toddlers can score points by throwing little soft rubber shoes at each other. This must be seen as one of those “investments” in our future that Obama is always talking about, producing an entire new generation of shoe-chuckers, and guaranteeing that our economy will continue to be stimulated into prosperity for decades to come.

Thank Allah for one brave and faithful servant and small miracles.

To say that Governor Hot Rod Blago has given the term ‘public servant’ a bad name might be the understatement of the decade. This drama will, no doubt, continue to play out in the weeks ahead. Now if only president-elect Obama would show some real righteous indignation and outrage instead of merely a sober resignation with a few obligatory expressions of sadness thrown in for good measure. Is he sad for the people of Illinois or for his crony who got busted and could still implicate him in unsavory, if not illegal, association?

This whole sordid business of corruption in government brought to mind a friendly argument I had with a good friend who is hopelessly liberal in outlook. At a party I was discussing politics with someone and advanced the case that term limits for people who serve—I use the word advisedly—in Congress might be a good idea. My friend overheard and weighed in with a scornful, “I thing that’s a terrible idea”. I took the challenge and the debate was on.

You need to understand something about my friend. While he might deny it, he’s one of those who think that it is government that makes our country great. Not the people. Not our traditions. Not evil big corporations. And certainly not the military. No, it’s government that makes America great. And the bigger and more centralized, the better. I suspect he also believes that our inalienable rights devolve from Government rather than some Transcendental Source. Our Founding Fathers, in keeping with the Judeo-Christian traditions of Western Civilization, identified such a Source or Ground of Being as “the Creator”. Again—let’s call him Wilbur—Wilbur might deny this. But I know his secular heart.

My argument’s main thrust was this: the longer people serve in government, the less likely they are to continue to faithfully serve the public which elected them. The longer their tenure, the more likely they are to be corrupted by power. The more vulnerable they remain to relentless outside influences such as evil lobbyists. It’s funny how Democrats decry lobbyists and “special interests” as demons which always seem to possess Republicans exclusively while they, the Dems, remain immune. Of course, that’s absurd.

In the formative years of our Republic, the attitude about serving one’s country was more noble and modest than it is today. The yeoman farmer who went to Washington to represent the people of his state or district did not look upon this as a career move. The idea was that, at considerable personal expense and sacrifice, one would choose to serve his country for a term or two, after which the politician would hang up his hat and return to his previous life. There would always be newcomers volunteering to fill the vacancies and refurbish the chambers of Congress.

Today aspiring politicians pay exorbitant amounts of money to procure a job which doesn’t necessarily pay all that well compared to jobs in the private sector. No wonder they never want to resign. They need all the bang for the buck they can get in order to retire their campaign debt. Of course, it turns out that these folks sooner or later discover that there are other ways to accrue wealth in Washington besides drawing their regular paycheck. That’s the problem.

Wilbur’s argument consisted in the assertion that the longer people serve in government, the more experience they accumulate and the more expertise they demonstrate. It would be a shame, for example, to force somebody like Joe Biden—who Wibur voted for in the primary election—out of the Senate because we the people would then be deprived of his amazing wisdom and judgment in matters of foreign policy. Indeed, during the campaign, Joe Biden’s tenure and experience were often touted as compelling credentials that made him the perfect choice as the inexperienced Obama’s running mate. It didn’t seem to matter that Joe regularly took his traveling clown show on the road saying really goofy things. It didn’t matter that he was expansively liberal with the “facts” in the debate with Sarah Palin. And it didn’t seem to matter that, in the past, Joe had been simply wrong on so many foreign policy issues. The only thing that mattered was that he’d been in the Senate for more than three decades—that and the observation that he rode commuter trains a lot.

I will acknowledge that, even without term limits, some congressmen and senators have their Washington careers curtailed by their constituents back home. Throw the bums out, yeah. Yet there are certain districts that become so enamored with their representative, they would never dream of voting him or her out the door. I’m convinced that if that Lion of the Senate, Ted Kennedy, were immortal, the voters of Massachusetts would keep sending him back to Capitol Hill right up until the Universe reverted to a singularity a few billion years or so from now.

I asked Wilbur, if term limits were so bad, then why is our president subjected to them? His answer amounted to, “Well, that’s different”.

Time is both linear and cyclical. A certain amount of time is required for freshmen lawmakers to learn the ropes. And with the passage of time, I’m sure many committee members become more knowledgeable about some special issue or another. But, in nature, we also have the seasons. In the spirit of Ecclesiastes, there’s a time to serve and a time to not serve (any longer). Spring cleaning is more than a metaphor. There’s just something healthy about clearing out the cobwebs and discarding things that have outlived their usefulness.

I realize that my vision is hopelessly naïve, at least while Democrats are running the show. They will always be more committed to holding their political power in perpetuity than serving the greater good. They do believe in service. But they serve the Party and its handmaiden, Big Government, first and foremost. And the longer, the better.

As a consolation prize, perhaps Barry O has settled for a lesser place in the pantheon of the gods. Lately I’ve been thinking more of Obama as a reincarnated Mussolini. Or, at least, one who channels El Duce, the man who made the trains run on time— something the US federal bureaucracy, even under Obama, may not be able to accomplish.

According to Webster’s Dictionary, “fascism” is defined as “a system of government characterized by rigid one-party dictatorship, forcible suppression of the opposition, the retention of private ownership of the means of production under centralized governmental control”.

To anybody, excluding the typically dimwitted Obamaphile, who is remotely aware of what’s going on in our country these days, this should sound familiar. Rigid one-party dictatorship? Witness the new axis of evil (or, if you prefer, Unholy Trinity): Obama-Pelosi-Reid. Forcible suppression of the opposition? Can you say “Fairness Doctrine”? Or “Card Check”? Or “ACORN”? Not to mention the efforts of the propaganda arm (insert “mainstream media”) of the ruling elite to control the State news. And then there’s the unending crusade by academics— loyal Party members all— to stifle dissent. Private corporations strictly controlled by centralized government control? The politicos have already become bankers and mortgage lenders. Wait until Detroit starts manufacturing cars and trucks designed by the likes of Barney Frank and Chuck Schumer.

It’s no secret that, historically, the “progressives” in the United States were enamored with the loveable dictator of Italy back in the thirties (not unlike their infatuation for colorful characters like Hugo Chavez these days). It was only after Mussolini allied himself with the unsavory Hitler that these progressives of that day began to lose their enthusiasm for Benny M, that benevolent dictator.

So, unless Barack Hussein Obama insanely forms an alliance with, say, Al-Qaeda (or perhaps with an even more evil adversary, say, the Republicans), he’s likely to be worshipped and adored by “the people” who placed all their hope in him as he endeavors to create the American 21^st century version of fascist Italy. All hail to the Chief.

Even if El Barry were to do something monumentally stupid and his minions finally awoke to his fallibility, he’s not likely to suffer the fate of Mussolini who was strung up in the public square by his toes. Such a fate for Barry would be uncomfortably akin to lynching the first black president.

We do know that Barack Obama has stated repeatedly that he intended to appoint imposing personalities with strong opinions, including those whose views disagreed with his own. He is said to prefer a dynamic cadre of rival advisors (a la Abraham Lincoln) to a monolith of sycophants. To that end, Obama has even pledged to appoint Republicans to his administration.

When president-elect Obama introduced his national security team— seasoned Clinton-era personalities and one incumbent Republican, Bob Gates— earlier this week, there was one man conspicuously absent from the press conference. To have introduced this particular gentleman as his Special Counselor to the President (with Cabinet standing) would have stunned friends and foes alike. Later in the day there were already rumors circulating that this mysterious appointee had missed the ceremony due to heart palpitations.

Late that night I received a mysterious phone call from someone identifying himself only as Deep Anal Orifice whose voice had been modulated. Sounding not unlike Darth Vader, the caller informed me that a certain Richard Cheney had been named as Mr. Obama’s Special Counselor to the President. In stunned disbelief I managed to ask, “Do you mean to say Obama picked Dick Cheney?” I was told, yes, that was indeed the case. The garbled voice on the other end hastened to add that people in the Obama camp were being instructed to exclusively refer to this particular appointee as Richard Cheney in hopes that the vast number of Obama supporters, woefully uninformed, would never make the connection.

“But why”, I persisted, “would Obama ever want a Dick Cheney in his Cabinet?” The caller chastened, “Ah ah, that’s Richard Cheney, remember?” Mr. Orifice went on to explain that Barry’s plan was to listen earnestly to any advice Dick Cheney had to offer and then, automatically, do the exact opposite. Governance by reverse psychology. As inexperienced, as out of his depth as the young Man-Child is, this cockamamie scheme might just work.