Thursday, August 21, 2008

Hot Summer Nights

The blush is coming off the rose.

Someone said the Left's and the Media's love affair with Obie is like infatuation...it is intoxicating, but it doesn't last.

There is a point when infatuation must give way to a deeper understanding and mature love or simply fade away.

I think Obie's fresh and, dare I say, black face combined to make him the irresistible new thing to all those love-hungry Moonbats.

But all he is doing now is repeating the same old pickup lines...there doesn't seem to be any "there" there. And his New-Kid-In-Town attraction is starting to wear a little thin.

He's too shallow/hollow to be so over-exposed. I don't think his starry-eyed handlers understand their commodity.

It's getting close to hang-over time, and the headache is just starting to kick in.

It'll be interesting to see how the disillusioned media treat him once they've had their way with him and he ceases to be thrilling and "new".


They may be sad and pessimistic, or angry and vicious because he let them down; because he didn't live up to their wildly delusional ideas of who he was...and he just turned out to be a common self-centered politician, mostly incompetent, mostly lucky, entirely concerned with his own fortunes and ambition; with an exaggerated sense of entitlement, and a petty temper when he doesn't get his own way.

Not, in the last analysis, particularly attractive.

Hey, he could win. But even so, I'll bet the Moonbats will be taking aspirin for the next four years, wondering what the hell they ever saw in this lame, gangly, shallow, sweet-talker they dragged home from the bar that hot August summer night.

The Gunslinger

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