Before the policy choices have to be weighed and the hard decisions have to be made, can we just take a month or two to contemplate him the way we might contemplate a painting by Vermeer or a guitar lick by the early-seventies Rolling Stones or a Peyton Manning pass or any other astounding, ecstatic human achievement? Because twenty years from now, we're going to look back on this time as a glorious idyll in American politics, with a confident, intelligent, fascinating president riding the surge of his prodigious talents from triumph to triumph. Whatever happens this fall or next, the summer of 2011 is the summer of Obama.This has got to be satire, it's too cloying for a rational opinion piece.
How can we not love Obama? Let me count the ways.
Third year of trillion dollar deficits.
Racist Attorney General.
Nanny-state Energy Secretary.
BATFE running guns into Mexico.
TSA excesses in every newspaper.
Gasoline prices through the roof.
Threatening to starve Grandma.
The list just goes on and on.
I remember when Esquire was a cool magazine. But this piece, seriously. A painting by Vermeer? You've got to be shitting me.