Yesterday North Korea’s Ministry of Truth “accidentally” leaked the transcript from the historic summit between Bill Clinton and Kim Jong “Very” Ill (the meeting known in diplomatic circles as “Bill and Kim’s Bogus Adventure”). It must be noted that this transcript was derived from the taped meeting between the two luminaries where the audio quality was poor and the North Korean interpreter’s responses are, at times, questionable. Here is a portion of that conversation:

Kim: Okay, Bill, we talk “turn-key”.

Bill: Ahh, Kim, I believe the expression is “Let’s talk turkey”.

Kim: You Americans. Everything is about food. We, here in the glorious Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, do not foolishly worry about food!

Bill: [heavy static … transcript redacted]

Kim: Food, food, food! Give me a—I believe your expression is “freaking”—break!

Bill: Your command of urban speech is impressive, Kim. But surely, you must recognize that President Obama has been out there on the world stage apologizing for America’s greed, consumption and imperialism?

Kim: Well, that is a start. So, what concessions do you bring to the table, Bill?

Bill: Well, let me assure you that I’m only here on a humanitarian mission to see that the two American journalists are set free. That, and to provide the emotional support these fine young women need right now, to make myself completely available to them. [Clinton goes on for several minutes, presumably elaborating more and more on his “humanitarian” impulses—but this portion of the transcript has been completely redacted]

Kim: So, then, the rumors are true? You really are a horn dog? You big stud, you!

Bill: Now, now, Kim. You totally misunderstood. Say, just how reliable is that interpreter of yours, anyway?

Kim: No matter, Mr. Willy. So, what are you saying? You have no nuclear secrets to trade?

Bill: With all due respect, Kim, I hardly think that would be appropriate considering…

Kim: But did you not, as the president, sell military technology to the Chinese???!!!!

Bill: Please, Kim, there’s no need to get upset. That whole China business was blown out of proportion by my political enemies at home. You can relate to that, can’t you?

Kim: I have NO political enemies in the glorious Democratic People’s Republic of Korea!

Bill: Okay, okay. I meant no offense. I’m sure we can accommodate your scientists on the nuclear issue. Just give me a little time to work my “Slick Willy” magic with the Pentagon. And, of course, I’ll have to clear it with Hillary.

Kim: Do NOT mention that “school girl” in my glorious presence!!!!!!!! Do NOT dare mention that “pensioner with a shopping bag” again! She dares to call us unruly “children”? Well, she is a [pause] FUNNY LADY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [audio suffers at this point from screeching and intense feedback]

Bill: [what sounds like chuckles can be heard over feedback] Hey, Kim, believe me; I feel your pain. [definitive chuckles can now be heard clearly]

Kim: I must ask you. How can you have disgusting sex with such a silly “school girl”?

Bill: [long pregnant pause] Kim, listen carefully; I do NOT have sexual relations with that lady, Ms. Clinton!

Kim: Do not wag your chubby finger in my glorious face!

Bill: Okay, sorry. I get passionate sometimes when I’m speaking the truth.

Kim: Before I release the two American prisoners who are convicted spies and enemies of the Glorious Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, I must demand some token concession from you that will save face and legitimize—vindicate—my glorious reign.

Bill: Kim, I told you, I’m working on those nuclear secrets for you but it will take…

Kim: It is true that I despise that vile, reactionary woman you are married to. Still, she does have excellent taste in pantsuits… Well?

Bill: Done!

And that’s how Special Envoy Bubba brokered the deal freeing the two young American journalists and, possibly, averting a nuclear holocaust.

I confess I must consider myself a “partial birther”. (I can only hope I don't get “partial birther” aborted by Doctor Obama!) Sure, I think most of the theories about Obama’s birth are a little nutty. Conspiracy theorists tend to “see” what they’re looking for. And it’s troubling that many “birthers” are also “9/11 truthers”.

Still, I just can’t seem to dismiss the issue completely. Something about it just keeps eating at me. My understanding is that there’s additional information contained in Obama's actual long-form birth certificate—different from the abridged “certificate of live birth” document—which is “locked up” in a “vault” in the archives. This additional, amplified information about Obama’s birth may—or may not—be embarrassing or compromising. Who knows? But that’s the point.

What bothers me is that Obama’s always bragging about how His administration is more transparent than any other. I could cite a number of cases which disprove this. For starters, there are Joe Biden’s secret meetings, the White House’s refusal to release the visitor logs and Obama’s urgency to advance His agenda regardless of whether or not anybody’s had a chance to read or study the specifics. Obama still hasn’t released His medical records—although He may be forced to under ObamaCare—or His transcripts from Occidental College. His refusal to release His original birth certificate is just one more case that makes a mockery of His boastful claims about being open and upfront. His stubborn refusal to make public this record makes people (like me) wonder just what is He hiding?

Apparently, access to this type of document is not covered by the Freedom of Information Act or, otherwise, somebody would have requested and been granted a glimpse. Still, one would think that the (Dear) Leader of the Free World could, with a little help from the Daley machine or union thugs (if necessary), get His hands on His own original birth certificate.

Of course, even if it were discovered that the circumstance of Obama’s birth was dubious, the point is moot. No court in the land would touch this “constitutional ticking bomb” of attempting to remove a sitting president. The Supreme Court has already refused to review a single appeal brought forth by a number of “birther” plaintiffs. The only recourse would be impeachment. Do we really believe a plenary of Democrat Senators would impeach their blessed Messiah (even if He was tarnished)? Let’s face it, we’re stuck with this Guy.

On the other hand, the truth always matters—and always prevails eventually. I am utterly convinced that Obama is a complete fraud. If He wasn't continually inflated by a slavering media and bolstered by Chicago muscle, His presidency would already be a bad joke. Therefore I would not be surprised at all if His original birth certificate did contain damaging data. It might very well turn out to be the perfect “prank” played on the American voters by this Imposter. I can hear a derisive, juvenile Barry now: “Hey, you dimwits; you've been punked! ”.

The aptly-named “Clunkers For Cash” program, touted as a shinning example of liberal enlightenment, has crashed and burned in the parking lot before it even got on the road. The program, which was funded to run for four months, has gone broke after six days. Maybe Joe Biden was involved in the planning and projections. (After all, he admitted that Team Obama had clearly misjudged the state of the economy’s malaise when they were drafting the Stimulus Plan.)

With the government’s website bogged down and the inept National Highway Safety Administration hamstrung by sticky red tape, frustrated dealerships have to either cover the cost themselves or put orders on hold as they wait to be reimbursed by Uncle Barack. To make matters worse, the EPA keeps resetting the mileage standard that qualifies a particular make and model for the cash payout. One guy in Texas had signed the papers and was waiting for the deal to be finalized when the dealer called to say his trade-in clunker, which had just barely met the EPA’s 18 MPG threshold, no longer qualified because, for some reason, the regulatory agency that protects us from global warming arbitrarily and capriciously raised the standard to 19 MPG. So the dude had to drive his clunker home, polluting all the way.

If this is an example of the genius of “central planning”, the nimble managerial finesse of bureaucracy and sound environmental policy, it doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the Democrats’ dream of administering—controlling—the health care of every single soul in America. On the other hand, ObamaCare is designed to remove broken down old clunkers like grandpa and grandma from the medical roster.

Of course, the Dems will spin this clunker business into a resounding success, giving them the pretext to “borrow” even more of your money to subsidize the next round. Unlike the rest of Obama’s Stimulus Boondoggle, this program actually did stimulate the economy and car sales because it amounted to, essentially, a tax refund. When government directly gives back to the tax-payer a sizeable portion of his own money—money collected in the first place by confiscatory tax schemes—no wonder it stimulates a market economy.

Even if these ideologues, bucking the natural order, could realize their utopian dream, such an artificially-contrived society would still be unsustainable. Modern physics may shed some light in this regard. While there’s a predisposed drive in Nature to produce evolutionary change and to express novelty—in a word, to create life—there’s also another countervailing urge that strives toward stasis and death. Physicists refer to this cosmic impulse as entropy.

The idea is that there is an ineluctable tug toward an entropic state where energy becomes increasingly dissipated and more and more useless to effect change. The amount of energy in a system is constant and cannot be destroyed; but the state of that energy changes over time, becoming more and more spatially uniform and, lacking a differential, increasingly unable to perform work. Entropy can be resisted or slowed down—but it requires the expenditure of work. (Your bedroom, normally neat and well-organized, will in time become a chaotic mess if left unattended, if not for your daily effort to tidy things up. Without work on your part, the highly organized pattern of your room becomes one big undifferentiated clump of cluttered sameness.)

Physicists theorize that our universe may eventually experience what’s known as heat death. Over the course of eons, entropy would ultimately reduce everything—every single particle of matter—to a constant temperature of Absolute Zero. There would no longer be a heat gradient, no more exchange of energy, and there would, therefore, no longer be any movement possible. No possibilities whatsoever. It would be an utterly static and perfectly uniform world devoid of the slightest hint of vitality, an inactive wasteland frozen forever. (At least all the little molecules would be “happy” molecules because—at last—everything would be fair and perfectly equal.)

I submit that the Marxist utopian society would eventually suffer a fate similar to heat death. At first, the process would be gradual, with the “poor” being increasingly disinclined to work, knowing their needs would be met by the efforts of others. The more productive members of society would gradually lose their motivation to produce, knowing that the fruits of their creativity and hard work would be taken from them and disbursed among the “less fortunate”. Eventually this leveling process would result in a “classless society”. But it would be an impoverished, drab and languid one. In a mundane sense, people would still have to work and move about—people still have to eat—but the vitality and truly creative energies of such a “utopia” would gradually dissipate into dullness and eventually cease to exist. (Examine any Marxist regime of the twentieth century and you’ll see glimmers of this negative dynamic.)

As life plays out, there inevitably will be “winners” and “losers”, the gifted and the handicapped, laborers and deadbeats. There will always be the “rich” and “poor”—relative and ill-defined terms, at best. (Consider that most of America’s “poor” have a car, a cell phone, a computer and, in some cases, a plasma TV.) It is what it is. In a fallen world, there will inevitably be injustices; and these must be rectified. But creating “heaven on earth” by fiat, by technocrats mandating the equality of all outcomes, is specious and unattainable. Jesus certainly recognized and sympathized with the plight of the disenfranchised; but he also acknowledged the nature of this world when he stated, “the poor you will always have with you”. Paul confirmed this same reality when he issued his edict to the early church: “he who doesn’t work doesn’t eat”. Again, it takes work to sustain civilization and to stall the relentless and destructive advance of entropy.

The answer is ordinary people helping people, not enlightened elitists erecting a cumbersome, fabricated social structure that is doomed to fail because it stubbornly refuses to recognize the nature of reality. God has mandated that His church minister to the needs of the poor and the genuinely unfortunate. This is accomplished through charitable enterprise at the community level as God’s love is expressed by and through individuals. The notion that sovereign Man, with his central planning and bloated bureaucracies and by the imposition of a contrived collective, can do better is tragically absurd.

You can take ‘em out of the ghetto but you can’t, I guess, take the ghetto out of these malcontents—even Harvard “scholars”. I mean, the brotha’s even got a street name. The indignant victim “Skip”, by day normally a mild-mannered, urbane and cultured intellectual, suddenly devolves to street thug with bona fide creds, lapsing into sloppy jive slang, railing “yooze don’t know whooze yooze messin’ wit” and “I’ze talk to yo mama, outside”. If his Harvard students could hear him now.

A reasonable person of any ethnic persuasion normally complies with a policeman’s request to see some identification, especially when a concerned neighbor thought your home might be in the process of being burgled by—it turns out—well, you. Had “Skip” displayed a modicum of his Ivy League refinement and calmly explained the embarrassing situation to the hapless police who had only been called to the scene in response to a routine 911 call, there never would have been the brouhaha that ensued. But no, the professor’s knee-jerk reaction was to play the race card and to become in-your-face belligerent, doing his best to impersonate hoodlum Biggie Smalls and creating such a ruckus that a crowd gathered outside to see what all the fuss was about. (The police reports are posted at Smoking Gun’s website.) So the recalcitrant academic was arrested, by the book, for disorderly conduct. Good. Too bad the Cambridge police department later buckled under PC pressure, kowtowing to Al Sharpton’s shakedown, and dropped the charges.

But that wasn’t the end of this sordid affair. It took Mr. Gates less than 24 hours to approach PBS in hopes of brokering a deal to produce a new documentary, this one on racial profiling in Amerika. His daughter is already on the stump, being interviewed on CBS’s The Early Show by the concerned, guilt-ridden and sappy Harry Smith who practically oozed empathy from his pores. And then, ditching His presidential persona, our beloved “post-racial” president, unscripted and instinctively reverting into “community agitator” mode, managed to weigh in during his prime-time press conference. Though admitting “Skip” was His homie and that He didn’t know all the facts of the case, that didn’t stop Barack “Barry” Obama—He’s got a street name, too!—from condemning the Cambridge police officers for acting “stupidly”. This was reminiscent of Representative John Murtha indicting our servicemen in Haifa as “murderers” before he, or anybody else, knew the facts. It took a court, following the legal process of discovery, to uncover those facts—and to exonerate the Marines of the trumped-up charges.

At least Obama’s untoward, precipitous comments about the Gates incident managed to spice up His otherwise dull and pedantic press conference. He seemed much more exorcised over the egregious “travesty” suffered by a brotha, while appearing to be bored with the tedious chore of selling His snake oil to an ever-growing dubious audience.

Perhaps, before the August recess, Congress could get in the act as well and pass legislation that would completely exempt all African-Americans from, for starters, abiding by speed limit laws (unlike the rest of us). This bold initiative—they could call it The Rodney King Act—would simply confirm and codify what multiculturalism and sensitivity training have already taught us: that anytime any black under any circumstances is pulled over by a traffic cop, they are ipso facto victims of racial profiling and liable to be beaten to within an inch of their life, and therefore deserving of special protections benevolently granted by the pantheon on Capitol Hill.

Thank goodness our magnanimous Dear Leader has led us, finally, to the “post-racial” Promised Land.

Seems our beloved Barry has a thing for hot sauce. Amazing when you consider the First Cool Cucumber never seems to break a sweat—unless His teleprompter stalls. A contributor at Big Hollywood recently was soliciting from the viewers possible brand names for the various hot sauces enjoyed by Mr. Obama. On good authority, here’s some of Barack’s favorites—all discovered in the White House pantry:

• Uncle Joe’s Soviet-Style Red Sauce—enjoyed by Commies worldwide for more than eighty years!

• Colonel “El Jeffe” Obama’s Stimulatin’ Hot Sauce—guaranteed to make you sweat more than the national debt! 

• Zelayla’s Zesty Honduran-Style Hot Sauce—guaranteed to foment revolution in Latin America and in your gastro-intestinal tract!

• Chef Algore’s “Green” Tomatilla Sauce—it’s globally warmed! It’s HOT and getting hotter every time the Gore family turns on their lights!

• Slick Willy’s Arkansas-Style Hoochie-Coochie Hot Sauce—cures ED and facilitates date-rape!

• Mohammed’s Fermented & Fomented Jihadist Juice—a hot sauce guaranteed to get your Muslim blood boiling! And it’s halal-certified.

• Old El Pelosi Hot Sauce—a CIA favorite! (But Madame Speaker still insists they’re lying.)

• 'Bamster's Original “Banana Republic” Hot Sauce—goes great with those fried plantains!

• Saul Alinsky's Chicago-Style Hot Sauce—it's rad! (Warning: may agitate your stomach.)

• Timmy Geithner's “Toxic Assets” Brew—so hot, it's guaranteed to burn a whole in your gut and in the Treasury!

• Barry's Bitchin’ Bailout Bayou Blend—a hot sauce brewed in the swamp for a quagmired economy!

• Reverend Jeremiah's “God#@%, That's Hot!” Sauce—so hot, whitey, you'll look forward to burning in Hell!

• Grandpa Obama's Kickin' Kenyan Hot Sauce—don't forget to serve it the next time you sacrifice a goat to The One!

• Sotomayor's Santeria-Style Special Hot Sauce—that fiery magical elixir for when you're in the hot seat and need to appear more conservative than Clarence Thomas!

• Rahm Emmanuel's “%#@*!&#?^<*$#!#@%#!!!!!!!! 'n” Hothead Sauce—goes great with foul!

• Barack’s Sizzlin’ “Campaign” Hot Sauce (FDA warning: bottles are empty except for media-approved hot air. EPA warning: excessive hot air could melt the polar ice caps.)

• ACORN’s Flamin’ “Flim-Flam” Hot Sauce—the perfect condiment when you’re out stealing votes!

• Hillary’s “Naughty” Combustible Hot Sauce—one drop and you, too, will explode and start swearing like a sailor!

• Planned Parenthood’s Scalding Hot Sauce—delicious! AND can be used as an abortifiant (even better than saline solution!).

• Kim Jong Ill’s “Goin’ Nuclear” Hot Sauce—too hot even for Barry Obama!

• Sarah Palin’s REALLY HOT Sauce (Warning: after ingesting, liberals have been known to experience psychotic episodes.)

• Jumpin’ Joe Biden’s “Hot Foot” Hot Sauce—perfect for those times when you put your foot in your mouth and want to add a little spice. (Warning: side effects include goofiness, a pronounced tendency to tell “whoppers” and, in extreme cases, may lead to diarrhea of the mouth.)

• NEW from Sarah Palin’s kitchen, Alaskan “Caliente Caribou” Hot Sauce—your PETA friends will love it! (Tip: try serving it with stuffed PETA pockets!)

• Benny Netanyahu’s Kickin’ Kosher Hot Sauce—next time try a little on your Gaza Strip steak! (NOTE: this is the one hot sauce President Obama reportedly detests.)

• Hezbollah’s “Exploding Camel” Hot Sauce—perfect for when you suicide bombers need to muster a little more courage! Enjoy it while it lasts (because you won’t).

• Bernadette Dorhn’s Incendiary Hot Sauce—even better than C4 when you want to take down a federal building!

• Michelle Obama’s Piqued Picante Sauce—blended with bitter herbs grown in her White House garden!

• Blathering Bab’s “Blazing Bilge” Hot Sauce—the perfect condiment for when you’re hosting Hollywood parties attended by bilious ticked-off celebs! (Alec, Sean, Matt and Janeane all swear by it.)

• Chef Algore’s Fearsome “Methane Mash” Globally-Heated Hot Sauce—threatens to raise your body temperature by 30 degrees by the end of the century! AND, before tax, only $2.95 a bottle! (Disclaimer: after tax, $502.95 per bottle.)

• Havana’s “Tropical Swelter” Habanero Chili Sauce—it’s kept Fidel alive this long! (It sure wasn’t Cuba’s “world-class” health care system.)

• Perez Hilton’s “Flaming Gay” Hot Sauce—adds bite when you’re dissing beauty queens!

• Joe Wilson’s Nigerian “Yellow Cake” JuJu Sauce—guaranteed to ignite the anti-war crowd and inflame the already rabid Bush-bashers!

• Napolitano’s “Pyric Paranoia” Picante Sauce—a favorite among liberals wary of ordinary Americans! (DHS WARNING to all conservatives: “The heat is on”.)

• Fanny Mae’s Hot “Magma Meltdown” Sauce—makes a great fire accelerant when you’re facing foreclosure and want to torch your house!

• Mahmoud’s Vaporizing Radioactive “Enriched Eruption” Hot Sauce—savored by the peace-loving Iranians of Tehran! A little goes a long way toward ensuring that explosive blast of flavor! Allahu Akbar!

• Hugo Chavez’s Boiling “Caldera de Revolución” Chili Pepper Sauce—guaranteed to ward off Third World insurrectile dysfunction! Bring your nation to an insurrecting boil with Hugo’s delectable inferno!

• Direct from the Lolo Soetero Family Recipe Book, Indonesian “Bali Blaster” Hot Sauce—the perfect primer for blowing up infidel luxury resorts!

• Obama’s Special Edition “Public Option” Hot Sauce—being rushed into production, folks, just in time. It will cure everything from the common cold to degenerative hip joints to cancer! (It better.) AND it works as an anesthesia so you won’t care one way or another.

• Tired of all the hot sauces? Try something really mild. Try the new Obama’s Nuclear-Lite Sauce. But hurry, inventories might not last.

I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling a bout of indigestion coming on.

For decades now we’ve been listening to feminists caterwauling, ominously warning, “Keep your hands off; it’s my body”! But where’s their angst and hand-wringing over ObamaCare as the Obama regime attempts to nationalize our very bodies? They have conniptions over the prospect of lawmakers limiting their unlimited access to abortion but seem oblivious to the very real prospect of some anonymous bureaucrat determining what’s best—what’s “cost effective” —for their general welfare in terms of overall health care. Do they really believe that some remote cog in a bloated, inefficient government apparatus can better prognosticate their health concerns and determine curative strategies better than they can themselves? That some government official is more qualified to prescribe health care measures than their own doctor? I guess they’re satisfied that the health care legislation now being crafted would promote tax payer-funded abortion, the only issue that really matters. (Besides, aborting a “preemie” is much more “cost effective” than applying the medical technology to bring the baby to term.)

ObamaCare, with its insidious ant-life undertones, is not about health. No more than Cap & Trade is about saving the environment. Both these bold and dubious initiatives are about centralizing power at the expense of our individual freedoms. Crippling the private sector is a desired “good” in the fever-pitched march toward the Left’s utopian dream of creating Heaven on Earth. Rahm Emmanuel and Barack Obama have glimpsed The Promised Land and really think they can pull it off—even though no other society in human history has been able to do so. (On the other hand, Obama is The One, after all.)

The feminists are willing to suspend their rant over the sovereignty of their precious bodies in order to fall into lock-step with their jive-talkin’ Dear Leader and His vision for the future (as long as abortion rights are safeguarded—not much to worry about there with Obama occupying the Oval Office). This is not the first time feminism’s rank hypocrisy has been on bold display. When serial rapist Bill Clinton was exploiting the power of high office, taking advantage of an intern about the same age as Chelsea, the silence from the feminist quarter was deafening. Any queasiness on the part of liberated women was trumped by the fact Slick Willy was an unabashed champion of abortion, the Holy Grail and raison d'être of the movement.

All this raises an interesting philosophical question: who owns your body? Most Americans, I suspect, hold the notion that they own their own bodies. Certainly the Libertarians would argue so. This is in keeping with the spirit of American individualism and is anathema to collectivist sensibilities. Christians have a different—and valid—take on the issue: they believe that it is God Almighty who owns our bodies. We are created for God’s pleasure, not necessarily our own. But, regardless, I think it’s safe to say most Americans would agree that the government decidedly does not own their bodies. As ObamaCare looms, let’s hope so.

Yes, that’s right. I want to confess my hate crime.

A few days ago I shamelessly forwarded to a few friends a photo of our president appearing to be casting a lustful eye toward a passing derriere in a crowd. As a red-blooded All-American heterosexual, I found the president's glance completely understandable. (I empathized—to use a liberal buzz word now in currency—with our president.) In that one fleeting moment, I bonded with Barack Obama in a very special way (even though I rarely bond with Barry otherwise). I was standing shoulder-to-shoulder, mano-a-mano, with my president, embracing our common manhood. Or so I thought.

But now I find out from MSNBC that I was part of a right-wing smear campaign to embarrass our president, that I was promoting a “racist stereotype of an oversexed black man being a predator.” Yep. I confess. That's exactly what I was thinking when I first saw the rather whimsical photo. Salivating at the prospect, I could not wait to pass the photo along in my crusade to fuel racial hatred in this country.

MSNBC went on to declare that millions of right-wing nutters (such as myself, apparently) were gleefully coming up with all sorts of hate-filled and racist captions for the now-controversial photo. Let the record show that my caption—really more a thought balloon springing from Obama’s orbicular head—was: “Drill for oil? No way! But I wouldn't mind tapping that!”

One could deduce from my mildly salacious caption that I was merely indicating a salient reality about men—all men, not just “predatory” black men: we—I’m speaking now for the heterosexual community—like women! If there was any bias against Barack Obama, I was simply poking fun at his stubborn refusal to pursue a comprehensive energy policy which included domestic drilling.

However, if one were to deduce such relatively benign motivations from my clever little caption, one would be wrong because The Oracle, MSNBC, has so declared.

So I humbly apologize to Dear Leader.

(In my defense, it takes a big man to admit when he’s wrong.)

As an intriguing footnote, there's a new theory emerging about the incident in L'Aquila. Alas, if this new interpretation of events were to turn out to be true, it would still not help my case. That’s the beauty of prosecuting a hate crime: you can, by divining—get out the goat entrails—the guilty party’s innermost thoughts, still nail the miscreant on intent even if the circumstantial evidence tends to exonerate. In any event, experts have analyzed the video and theorize that Barack's downward glance is better explained by the stick of chewing gum he'd clumsily dropped on the pavement. It's not inconceivable. After all, he was only bending over to pick up yet another stick of gum which he'd fumbled when he met the Saudi Prince. And some people actually thought he'd bowed in deference to the Islamic potentate!

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.