The Angriest President

There's' a place in the world for the angry young man
With his working class ties and his radical plans
He refuses to bend, he refuses to crawl,
And he's always at home with his back to the wall.
And he's proud of his scars and the battles he's lost,
And he struggles and bleeds as he hangs on his cross-
And he likes to be known as the angry young man.'
"Angry Young Man" - Billy Joel



The Angriest President
by Stephen GuyHardin


Like another bad film starring a topless Maggie Gyllenhaal or another misguided pseudo I Heart Huckabees misfire, we have a President who lives in his own ultimate truth of reality, in which he is a star searching for a venue to display the luster of his destiny. It is indeed unfortunate for Barack Obama to live in a reality that denies him the venue of fame that only exists in the mind of the angriest President. Placed upon a global stage that can no longer be manipulated by George Soros and Oprah, Barack Obama must contend with the tedium of liberal Sunday talking head shows and stale David Letterman sycophancy to convey his dated and discredited creed of Marxism and social injustice. Imitating a B-grade trade show convention speaker for the Peoria Chapter of the Black Panthers, Barack ticks off tired racial clique after tired racial clique, as the over ripened congregation of middle aged activists check their Blackberry's and pick at the stale remains of their catered lasagna in anticipation of the post-convention trip to the nearest strip club.

In a sad imitation of Al Pacino in Devil's Advocate, our angriest President smirks and grimaces and berates and lectures to his captive audiences of union thugs and community activists. Beating the dead horse of socialized medicine beyond all recognition of the reality of public opinion, our angriest President refuses to step from the enlightened path of his wage against the machine. Hiding his life of privilege and preference beneath the color of rage and resentment, Barack reels fact after misshapen fact at a public increasingly disengaged from the rhetoric of an angry middle aged man. The compulsion of anger has replaced the debate over policy, with emotion and feelings replacing facts and fairness. The only consistent element in Barack's campaign of public enlightenment is anger and glorified moral outage at the supremacy of corruption and white man's greed disguised under the cloak of the status quo.

When all hope of political or moral victory has been exhausted the angriest President refuses to change course or concede defeat. Only knowing the currents of conflict that belong back in the history of the streets of Hyde Park, Barack only knows the theory of the attack. Unable to acknowledge defeat or consider compromise, the angriest President only knows to walk the path he has learned from the disciples of the Weather Underground and the Nation of Islam. This path is the one where he is always deferred to due to his cultural heritage, his politically correct African name and the carefully manicured socialist caricature that is Barack Obama. Conflicted by the divergent goals of politics and idealism, Barrack is no longer able to resolve the disappointment of reality with the compromise of politics. Anger has replaced the soul of a man who once sought to placate the suffering of his people and lead a nation he despises into a new age of cultural enlightenment and political correctness.



Brainwashed in the classic prose of Che and Mao to be the unthinking and unfeeling soldier of a revolution that never was, Barack sings the song of the pedantic poet who inhabited the unemployment lines in Cambridge and Chicago in the era of post sixties chic radicalism that were discredited when he was still a child playing in the sands of Waikiki. Evolving from Bob Dylan's John Wesley Harding to the casual counter-racism of Kanye West playing for a Katrina opiated media orgy, our angriest President has adopted his classroom learned message of reversing social injustice to his megalomaniacal message of liberal fascism masked as government for the people and by the people.

Living in the alternate reality of the social activist gone Hollywood, where chaos and suffering are gleaned as opportunities to harness the sufferings and dreams of the people he claims to strive for, our angriest President interprets the histories of Malcolm X and Dr. King as unfulfilled shadows of the greatness he feels destined to eclipse. Discarding the history of a nation that has given him the opportunity for greatness, Barack squanders and maligns the greatness of America in a vain and megalomaniacal quest to create the image of a Leader that will eclipse all who have gone before and all who will come after. The realization that this holy quest is fleeting, depending upon the whim of public opinion of the great unwashed masses, only increases the fury and uncivil discourse of our angriest President.



Striking in similarity to the growing smallness of Jimmy Carter during the waning days of his Presidential malaise, Barack is nearing the sweater wearing period of his administration in which he blames his political bankruptcy on the American voter and avoids the image of failure he sees in the mirror. Embarking upon the tread worn path of mediocrity well known to Democrat Presidents of the past, Barack Obama only knows to proclaim his vision upon the sound stages of Hollywood and other safe havens of the Liberal celebrity carousel. As though auditioning for the tenth round of an e-Harmony ad, Barack breaks out his well rehearsed dog and pony show lamenting the horrors of the American cultural genocide against the oppressed communities of Southside Chicago. Deigning to step down from the pinnacle of the Presidency to the gutter of the modern American celebrity, Barack Obama refuses to bend, refuses to crawl, and he's always at home with his back to the wall, and he's proud of his scars and the battles he's lost, and he struggles and bleeds as he hangs on the cross, and he's doomed to be known as the angriest President.

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