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”.