If I had to draw a portrait of the absolute depth of presidential impotence, that would be it. Hammered by adversaries, never punching back, afraid to seek real solutions to major problems, slow to even speak, and reliant upon the lamest of historical analogies to make a case before a tuned-out nation. And now, for the coup de grà ce, kneeling on the train tracks, asking for Zeus or Ba'al or Jesus or some other mythical dude in the clouds to come rescue us from our drought or pestilence or famine.
Christ, if we're down now to begging our deities for solutions to our problems, what's the point of having a president anyhow?
We can be stupid and frightened pagans on our own.
We're actually quite good at it.
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