Obama’s Diary

It must be something about the DNA of a Republican running for office. They just can’t tell the truth.

So much for the Straight Talk Express, what with John McCain running around all over the country like Mister Magoo telling down and out voters what I will and won’t do as president. He says I’ll raise taxes. He says I’ll bankrupt the country. He says I won’t support the troops.

One thing is for sure, I’d be happy to cut John McCain’s social security and medicare benefits. How would the old geezer like it if all he could get was half a colonoscopy?

The problem as I see it as that too many American voters are just dumb enough so ill-informed these days, thanks to misinformation superhighway and Fox News.

Mister Magoo will get a good tongue lashing during the televised debates this fall. He gets all flustered and red faced and doesn’t think too well on his feet, so he won’t be able to do much more than growl and look mean. Anyone who votes for a growling, mean old dog gets the kind of government they deserve.

We’ve been trying to rally disaffected Democratic voters, mostly under educated white men and women, with little success. They’re in bunker mode already. ‘Give me Hillary, or give me death’ seems to be the rallying cry among some Democratic voters in California, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Texas.

That’s to be expected. They backed a loser and it will take time to heal and bring voters together against a common opponent. We’re prepared for that. We’ll pick up plenty of Hillary’s voters and lose a few. It’s politics.

What we are not prepared for is buyer’s remorse. All those activist, educated Democrats and Republicans who voted for me in caucuses and primary elections now have second thoughts. 

Our polling says that many of these voters don’t think I can defeat John McCain in November and they don’t know what to do with their votes. The surveys show that many of my supporters view McCain as a party maverick, and independent who can reach out across the aisle and get things done.

Am I the only one to notice that John McCain has the arm reach of a midget?

With Hillary Clinton’s campaign heavily in debt and running on fear, it’s time to begin the process of healing the tattered and torn Democratic party, worn and haggard from the abuse heaped upon it by the Clintstones.

One of the first steps to healing is the select a running mate for an Obama presidency. It’s important that the disaffected political groups within the party feel as if they’re a part of the vice presidential selection process.

They won’t be, but it’s important for them to think they are.

The most disaffected group within the Democratic party is white women. They need to feel that I’m considering a white woman as my running mate. I am. Senator Claire McCaskill of Missouri. She already told me that she isn’t interested in the job. The reasons are many and varied but it has something to do with a truck driver and a picnic.

The second most disaffected group within the Democratic party is uneducated, illiterate white men, exemplified by high unemployment rates, and shotguns in the back window of their pickup trucks. They want a white vice president and the man a mere heart beat from the presidency.

Disaffected groups all want to feel that they’re a valued part of the democratic process in this election.

They won’t be, but it’s important for them to think they are.

I can almost taste victory. By picking up some unexpected pledged delegates in Kentucky and the majority of delegates awards in Oregon, I now have a majority of the pledged delegates.

Senator Clinton cannot catch me in pledged delegates even if she wins the majority of every remaining contests, including Michigan and Florida.

I love being on top.

Hillary cannot catch me in total votes cast in the primaries even if she wins the majority of every remaining primary.

And, I’m ahead in SuperDelegates, too. I’m over the top and it tastes great. 

Will the Clintstones try to steal the Democratic nomination from me? Sure. It’s what they do. They’re hoping for a miracle. Or, a good marksman. If I’m alive, I win.

In a funny play on words, my daughter complained to us at breakfast this morning that she thought Pastor Wright was over the top. Young people today have a different view of over the top than adults.

It used to mean exceeding goals or objectives. A good salesman would go over the top and exceed his quote. It was a good thing.

OVer the top also has roots in military when soldiers were ordered to leave their trenches and advance by going over the top. Professional arm wrestlers go over the top when they defeat an opponent, usually by breaking the other guy’s arm.

These days over the top means outrageous, crazy behavior. My daughter thought Pastor Wright’s hideous display of racism in his sermons made him go over the top.

I quite agree. Then Michelle told her that Daddy is about to go over the top, too, and is about to win all the SuperDelegates and defeat the wicked witch of New York to become the country’s next President. Michelle has such a way with words.

Now my daughter think Pastor Wright is over the top and her daddy is over the top. Where is Art Linkletter when we really need him?

So, Hillary Clinton wins big in the ultimate cracker state, West Virginia. The only thing black in West Virginia are the coal mines and the miner’s teeth. It’s enough to make a dental hygienist cry. 

I almost had to laugh because Hillary started the day on the talk show tour to trump up her victory and we leaked the news that John Edwards would endorse me. John and I had this planned for months.

That leaked news got bigger headlines than Hillary’s win in the West Virginia primary. Most news networks didn’t even bother to cover it. Who wants to go to West Virginia? Ever!

Anyway, we sat around all day, John and I, and talked about Hillary and Bill and their foibles and troubles, and how much debt she’s run up in the past few months, and how Bill has to be out on the speech trail to make enough money to pay off Hillary’s gambling debts.

My God. What a great thought!

It’s never to late to begin thinking about who to appoint to my Cabinet once I’m elected President. In a shocker to my aids and advisors, I’m seriously considering Hillary Clinton as Secretary of Defense.

The woman is tough as nails, doesn’t quit like that patsy Donald Rumsfeld, and isn’t afraid to say in public that she would obliterate Iran if they attacked Israel. It took guts to say that. Those pantsuits of hers are hiding a lot of intestinal fortitude.

The problem is that the Clintons like to play a tag team. Getting just one Clinton on my team will be the challenge. Bill keeps hinting to me that regardless of Hillary’s intentions, he’d like to be Secretary of State, even if for just one term.

I don’t know. I really don’t know. Bill managed to piss of a lot of black folks during the primary elections. I don’t know if he can mend that fence. He would make a very good roaming ambassador of good will, sort of a caped crusader of truth, justice, and the American Way, but without the cape.

I would rather have Hillary as Secretary of Defense. There’s something about a fierce woman wearing pants that will really get the Arabs in a lather.