Politics

The Wimp with Red Paint

This all reminds me of the sixth grade … no … the fifth grade. I was in a room with the sixth and fifth combined. The building looked like the school house in the movie “Hoosiers.” All brick construction with tall ceilings, black slate chalkboards, ancient and worn margins on all the books in the library (no dirty books), wooden floors, huge windows looking onto endless wheat fields … and a bully. The guy was named Tim Tuttle. He was a sixth grader and we fifth graders were easy pickin’s for Tim.

Not being (entirely) stupid, we fifth graders soon figured out we needed to maintain good relations with a certain sixth grader named Joe. He was much bigger and more muscular than even the male teacher. I figured he was actually an adult in disguise, there to assist if things ever got out of hand. He wasn’t an adult or there for any other reason than his lack of academic acumen. This I discerned from watching his class room recitals. Pretty unimpressive.

But my point is that it was wise to maintain good relations with Joe because he had no soft spot for Tim. And you knew he could pulverize Tim if he took a shine to the idea. Joe was a happy-go-lucky kind of fellow and being his friend was easy. He always played baseball with us at recess and noon hour. He was always around and definitely deterred Tim from terrorizing us fifth graders.

It was basic diplomacy. Most young boys learn early to be judicious in their word usage and potentially provocative language on the playground. You could get a poke in the eye.

Obama’s problem, inter alia, is he never had a Tim Tuttle in his life. He has lived a life which has taught him to seek the easy route and always look out for Numero Uno first. He has been taking the safest route ever since he was a little boy all dressed up in Muslim garb listening to the chant from the local mosque minaret. And worst of all, he learned early about Affirmative Action and the guilt American liberals bathe themselves in every day. He used it to go places and now he reminds me of another kid from my past.

This clown’s name was Jimmy. He took an advanced degree in engineering from a very prestigious university in California. He had been raised by an overly protective and ambitious mom with no Dad around. His mother made certain the kid was showered with everything affluence could buy. His mother got him a great job in a big construction firm. He was headed for prominence and wealth. One day, he complained to me about the need to be on the job site by seven in the morning and not leaving until around the same hour in the evening. “I don’t have time to even pick up my dry cleaning!” he whined to me once. (I wasn’t very sympathetic. I didn’t have any dry cleaning.) He did some serious damage once by writing stupidly incriminating file memos about our crew’s job performance, all of which was later discoverable in litigation. Nice.

His career suddenly took a turn one day when he quit, and it was later learned he had gone into the police academy because he felt he was entirely unappreciated where he was. Besides, he would get respect as a policeman. And, as a fall back, carrying a gun would doubtless garner the respect he may not conjure up by his mere presence.

wimpfactorThe wimp becomes the bully.

That’s what we have in the Oval Officer. The wimp who never learned how to carry his own weight now has the Big Stick … and relishes his new found role. Barack “Pulitzer” Obama is throwin’ his weight around.

And the whole world is gonna listen! Except England and France. (France?…I gotta’ chuckle here.) And Congress (maybe … more chuckles).

Obama should have looked around to be sure his Joe was somewhere close. Or OUR Uncle Sam.

He’s the one who doesn’t know anything about the Syrian rebels, who are savages like the ones in Libya. He is a wimpy bully who learns nothing from his prior and very recent failures.

Someone needs to take his red paint away before we all get hurt.

 

The views expressed in this opinion article are solely those of their author and are not necessarily either shared or endorsed by EagleRising.com


About the author

Stephen Bowers

Stephen Bowers

I am an attorney in Las Vegas who has always wanted to draw political cartoons, partly because I like drawing, but mostly because I enjoy ridiculing pompous know-nothings. Verbally debating them gets nowhere. They don't know they're beaten. But poking fun at them in a drawing leaves them without recourse or rebuttal. What can they do...? Call me names, whine, cuss me ... or maybe draw a witty riposte? Unlikely.
Steve Bowers, Esq.

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