In the final stretch of his journey to Mt. Rushmore, Mr. O’B continues to stockpile affirmations from the slobbering, many-headed dunce known as the media. If he's successful in staking a claim for his face on the nation’s most famous granite real estate, it's due to the efforts of compliant fourth estate flunkies broadcasting any myth and fable necessary for sculpting his image into an unassailable epic profile.
This time, with breathless high-arcing hyperbole, the fawning media castrati warbled that Captain Obama has skillfully sailed the U.S. economic ship of state into the harbor of reduced deficits. Metaphorically, at least.
Nice going, Cap’n, but not so fast! No awards just yet! All this means is he’s guided a sinking vessel into a harbor that has no means to patch the ever-widening hole in the hull while the waters continue to flood the hold. To continue the metaphor.
Economics 1.0: Just to be clear, the deficit isn’t the same as the national debt, now at $19+ trillion, up from $10+ trillion when Obee took office in 2009. That’s a 90% increase, about 11% a year, by the way, a decent rate of return for investors in red-ink. Reducing the deficit just means the U.S. gov has slowed the rate at which it’s metaphorically sinking to the bottom of the sea.
But down is still down, gravity does not discriminate, and Washington continues to piss away money like a drunken sailor on shore leave until the paycheck is gone. Year-over-year, the gov burns through more $$ than it takes in, resulting in a deficit added like high octane metaphoric fuel to the national debt bonfire.
Still struggling? Here’s another metaphor: a gunshot victim who’s bled out on a sidewalk, while paramedics try to staunch the flow of lost blood with plasma bags filled with formaldehyde. The vic has lost too much blood to be saved – he’s a goner. Good news is the vic’s shovel-ready for the mortuary.
Meanwhile, in the steamy milongas in Buenos Aires where dance owns the night, Bo Jangles tangled with the tango and stunned audiences with a true-to-life rendition of a real-life lame duck on life support, executed with breathtaking lifelessness, of course, no metaphors intended.
Frankenstein busted better moves in a Macarena line. George Romero’s “Living Dead” zombies were more animated. And after nearly eight years all we got to show for it is a gimpy quacker with a pending eviction notice. S’about time, but enough with the metaphors, already.