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Obama casserole…


So we were watching the late TV news roundup last night — Obama at the UN, I think it was — and Uncle B suddenly says, “did you see what he just did there?”

I didn’t, but they helpfully replayed the clip: there was a toast, Obama conspicuously raised his glass all around, and then quickly palmed it without taking even a sip. Just whipped it behind his back and disappeared it. Most odd.

So I went and did a Google images search, and all of the pictures I could find of Obama with a glass of hooch, he’s either holding up a full one, or making a weird smoochie face in the glass like in this picture. You gotta open your mouth to drink a beverage, sport.

Sadly, I don’t think I can spin it into a good teetotal-Obama-is-a-secret-Muslim yarn. I suspect he probably does actually touch the stuff occasionally (Politico says he does). It was just…a conspicuously weird thing to do for a toast.

Personally, I’m more bothered by the sinister take-over of American politics. Obama means half the American presidents since WWII have been left handed. Boo!

Oh, and I’m delighted to see the theory that Bill Ayers actually wrote Obama’s Dreams from my Father has gotten reinforcement. Even if it is from a less-than-unimpeachable quarter.

Once more, for laughs, one of only two pieces of literature known for sure to be written by Obama himself:

Under water grottos, caverns
Filled with apes
That eat figs.
Stepping on the figs
That the apes
Eat, they crunch.
The apes howl, bare
Their fangs, dance,
Tumble in the
Rushing water,
Musty, wet pelts
Glistening in the blue.

Yeah, I probably wrote pomes that sucked that hard. When I was twelve. When I was 19? Not so much.

September 24, 2009 — 7:00 pm
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