The Smallness of Barack Obama



Weakness is a mouse that roars and stuffs confetti in the ears of the failed, dim public, the party of cotton hearing Democrats.


When Obama walks up to the podium I’m surprised he doesn’t trip on his own sh**. But it’s not soft.  It is lozenges of stink. He glides. He slides. He abides only to his own law. He flies over his own lies.


Obama evaporated behind his image.  He is one step behind his effrontery.  He is the disappearance of all morality.


In the land of legalized marijuana, gay confusion  and illegal aliens without walls,  Obama rides his political steed proudly.


He is not that good looking but the millennials love him like a wet dream.  They are stupid and latch onto his good diction and his indignity about bigotry and dramatization of prejudice.


Obama is ideology speaking through a minor face.  He is his own diction borrowed from progressive ideas. 


He is not what he intends and something other than what he portends.  He is Obama, the drama, Obama the harmer who colludes with Chicken Little’s sky falling down.


It’s a shame that our first black president had to be all rhetoric and no action.

With such a losing hand in our governmental cards I can understand why Mick Jagger sang, “I can’t get no satisfaction.”

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