In our hallway is suspended that iconic poster of Obama and the word "Hope."
I may have to take it down.
I love the man, his intelligence, his sympathies, his willingness to suffer for his people, but I'm not sure he ought to be President.
Here is the perfect oppurtunity handed an incumbent Democratic president: The Republican party, in control of the House of Representatives finally unmasks itself, refusing to lower taxes for corporate jets, second and third vacation homes, refuses to raise taxes on millionaires, refuses to even talk about raising taxes on anything the rich enjoy, and the President quietly, patiently walks into meeting rooms and tries to reason with them.
Well, what else do I expect him to do?
He should be on television every day, on the radio, on talk shows, out in the country at huge rallies and small towns, with pie charts and with soaring rhetoric, with allies like the suddenly absent Barney Frank, and he should be pilloring the Republicans by individual names and by party name.
All barrels should be blazing.
And not just about budget negotiations, but about Elizabeth Warren. The one thing that came out of the financial crisis was a law which might have punished and frightened the bankers into good behaviour and Obama found a sharp tongued chamion who could have lacerated those fat cats Republican bankers and all those who sail with them, but when he faces opposition, does he react with fury? Does he take to the airwaves or to the town halls to champion his ally? No, he wilts and accomodates.
Qui Tacet Consentit. He who remains silent consents.
He looks only a shade warmer than that Casper Milquetoast who for some reason known only to God and to the Democratic senators is the "leader" of the Senate, Harry Reid. Neither of these Democrats show any sign of having hot blood in their arteries, not even warm blood. They are stooped, weak voiced, old in spirit and simply not leaders.
With such leaders, the Republican rich have nothing to fear. They cannot lose.
And perhaps, that is as it should be. The strong take all the meat and the runt of the litter simply starves and withers.
Call it Darwinism.
Call it politics.
But politics is a blood sport and Democrats need a leader.
What we've got is a kind old uncle who should have retired a few years ago.