Posted by
Lucas J. Boy on Thursday, November 13, 2008 11:52:45 AM
Like many fellow Americans, I've been trying to come to grips with the unsettling reality of the impending Obama presidency. There's certainly a lot to be worried about. But I've discovered that there is something deeper, more subtle that troubles me about the future, the realization that we have elevated to Leader Of The Free World a guy named Barry. Think about it. The most powerful man in the world is named ... Barry? There's something almost farcical about a United States President known by such a juvenile, "fun" name. When I hear that name I think of Barry Manilow and his sappy song stylings. I can easily imagine that Dobie Gillis might very well have had a goofy pal named Barry. Sounds like a character Veronica might have met at a sock hop in an Archie comic book episode. Where's the gravitas?
Consider some of the great and colorful names of presidents past: Old Hickory, Zachary (vaguely Old Testament), Abe, Ulysses (almost mythical), Rutherford (aristocratic), Chester, Grover, Benjamin, Theodore, Woodrow (says Princeton intellectual), Warren, Calvin, Herbert, Ike, Jack, Lyndon, Ronald, George. Despite any failings by these men, at least when you spoke their names, it sounded presidential. The closest we ever came to "Barry" was the folksy "Jimmy" (pronounced Jim-uh). And he turned out to be an incompetent, ornery doofus. Which makes my point. We need to be wary of electing to high office men with silly boyish names.
It could be argued that Barry is actually, these days, Barack (hardly an improvement). But for a good portion of his life, young Obama was very much known to all as Barry. He's now my president and will always be known to me, sadly, as Barry.