|"yes, the lady in the back wearing the blue dress."|
Well, let me rephrase that. If unattended to, then the new state of affairs on that date should be named The Obama Tax Increases. Plain and simple. Full stop.
In keeping with the gastronomic metaphor, not to rehash this but to chew over some of the more delicious morsels of this squalid buffet, I offer as courses of this pathetic repast the following:
- Democrats do absolutely zero, zip, nada for an entire year except jam health care up the skirt of an American public who steadfastly preferred them to address jobs and the economy.
- They postponed any action on this vital tax matter affecting virtually all of the tax-paying public until after November 2nd because they hoped to salvage their fading election hopes.
- When handed an historically stunning rejection at the polls, they continued to drag their feet by substituting burning issues like the Dream Act or repeal of DADT.
- Obama and the Dems continued their class warfare rhetoric on this subject right up until the moment that The Child Emperor eschewed his party leadership -- the Botoxed Bitch and Prince Harry the Dingy -- and ducked into a meeting with the ascending Republicans where he compromised(?) on a tax deal.
- Immediately afterward, he emerged and, in an incredibly mono-partisan and ungracious manner, proceeded to hammer the very people with whom he forged an agreement, repeatedly calling them "hostage takers".
- The lunatic fringe of his party (i.e., most of the current office-holding Democrats in Congress) go ballistic and excoriate this pathetic POTUS as a sell-out to the rich, the moneyed, and the powerful. Whi
- While doing so, they proceed to lard up the tax bill with another 100 billion in pet projects like giveaways to Hollywood and Puerto Rican rum producers.
The sound you heard was the collective dropping of jaws as Charming Billy strode to the podium and The Child Emperor assumed a subservient position to the left and rear of The Prevaricating Pantload from Pine Bluff.
Then, as if that weren't enough, Mr Golden Showers proffers some lame excuse about not wanting to piss off She of the Stevedore arms, Moo-Chelle, and exits stage left.
So, in yet another exhibition of incompetence, Mr Not-Ready-For-Prime-Time demonstrates to the American public that he is unable and unwilling to be president, to face the music, and to discharge the responsibilities of his office.
There are so many opportunities for humor here but my favorite has got to be the most obvious arc of this story line: Obama skips out on important events because he has to take either the dog or Moo-Chelle for walkies. You will remember, of course, when he skated on that Rhode Island political fund raiser using domestic duties as an excuse:
"I've got to get home because Michelle is on the road. So I've got to be home to tuck in the girls and walk the dog. And scoop the poop."
This time it was the FLOTUS. Hope he has a scooper and a really, really big poop bag.