When we last dropped in on Newsmax’s John L. Perry, he was promoting the notion that Barack Obama is Pinocchio, a prevaricating puppet whose strings are pulled by mysterious, unseen hands. This week, the Newsmax pundit has not only promoted the President to Real Live Boy, he’s crowned him The Emperor Jones.
Now that he’s president, Barack Obama has new clothes, even if they don’t always fit. What he still lacks is class. Tailors can’t fix that.
Although some tailors can create the illusion of good breeding through the cunning use of darts.
Before, during, and since the president’s elevation to his stratospheric altitude in the vault of the heavens, he has been adorned in an unprecedented array of resplendent raiments of praise befitting his One-ness.
This is probably a good time to remind our readers that John L. Perry is “a prize-winning newspaper editor and writer”.
If he appears at times to be in contradiction, or inconsistency, with his One-ness, it only appears that this is so. For, by contemporary wisdom, that is an entirely admirable attribute of his being The One. And since he is, he can be no other. Nor can any other be he. Thus, whatever he is at any given moment in time, he can nowise be in contradiction thereof.
Guys? Please stop passing the joint to Mr. Perry.
Who, not being of status anywhere close to that of The One, can possibly say otherwise? If you ain’t been there yourself, you just ain’t been.
Among Mr. Perry’s awards is the PEN American Center Prize, given each year to the best translation of Khalil Gibran into jive.
But, lesser ones still might ask, “If all that the general public (a.k.a. the masscomm audience) can see are his new clothes, and if there’s no there there, how can anyone tell if what’s not there is class?”Since the president’s degree of déclassé is not a topic tolerated for public observation or discussion, this seeming conundrum must be approached silently, in solitude, and behind closed doors after the children are abed or safely watching smut on television.
In other words, once your penis has passed it’s Sell By date, masturbation is replaced by long nights spent pacing the Bonus Room, grousing about the uppity Negroes in the White House.
Under those conditions, how, if the president has no class, is his populace to know what he’s doing that is classless? It’s a bit like Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart’s celebrated dictum non-defining hard-core pornography: “I know it when I see it.”
Actually Mr. Perry, a little hardcore pornography might be healthier for you than running through the streets, wild-eyed and sweaty like Kevin McCarthy at the end of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and shouting at passing cars that Obama’s classlessness is invisible to the naked eye!
So, the answer is that if the president’s classlessness is observed, it must be without comment about:
And then Mr. Perry furnishes a litany of indictable offenses against classiness, including:
- The way he walks, the way he talks, the way he looks down his nose.
The way he wears his hat. The way he sips his tea.
- The way he hasn’t learned to tie a four-in-hand necktie like the men do.
The President, as we’ve all seen, confines himself to those big floppy bows preferred by power-dressing women executives in the 1980s.
- The haughty way he fakes erudition off his teleprompter screens and proffers profundities on subjects in which he lacks credentials.
- The way he says, “as I’ve said before,” when he hasn’t.
These sound less like complaints about the President of the United States, and more the kind of daily irritants that come up during couples counseling.
- The way he jumps down, spins around, picks a new position
Then picks a bale of cotton. Yeah, we get it, John. We get it.
Posted by scott on Monday, June 29th, 2009 at 1:52 pm