My flamboyant friend came running fast round the bend in tie-dyed t-shirt, yellow shorts and red shoes. He jogged up on my front porch and started pacing as he pulled a little plastic bag from his shorts, drew out a roll-your-own and pack of paper matches, then lit up. If there was a human being more conflicted than I, here he stood.
So what do you make of it? he gasped amid clouds of smoke.
"What?"
Year One. Obama's been president a solid year and I'm wondering what you think?
"I'm of two minds."
Duh. That's why I'm here. To help you sort it out.
"You read my columns. I'm a guarded supporter. Cautiously optimistic."
Kind of like the orchestra on the Titanic? Serenading us all with that rot about how Obama's doing the best he can. Look at the hand he was dealt. We could all be standing in bread lines by now. How sending 30,000 troops into Afghanistan is his way of getting out dontcha know? How he'll shut down Guantanimo eventually and that any healthcare reform's better than no reform. Just be patient, we've a framework in place for halting global warming one of these days...Yada yada yada.
He emitted smoke rings with his words.
"Are you copping an attitude?"
My, how perceptive we are. Tell me one thing, Oh Scribe. How much longer will your sort of rot wash? We're in Year Two, and if you ask me, Obama's morphing into a Bush-Cheney third term.
"So what would you suggesthe do?"
I'd urge him to fight every battle for righteousness' sake.
"Say what?"
Hey, I was raised Southern Baptist, believe it or not. I lay things out in black and white when I get excited. Obama shoulda been the righteous one and gave 'em hell.
"Specifically?"
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