He’s the milquetoast kid bullied relentlessly at summer camp. When his parents arrive and he’s a safe distance away, he leans out the window, yells and shakes his fist at the bullies from the safe distance of mummy & daddy’s car speeding home. Take that… he says.. I’ll tax those millionaires, you wait and see… and you better not touch social security …and I’m cutting the military…and guess what, I’ve got a jobs plan!
Brave talk now that he knows that he’s going home…to his base. …he knows the bullies will never really let him have his way. But at least now he can thumb his nose, naay-naay, naay-naay naaay. Now he can look tough.. while campaigning in suburban backyards across the nation. Instead of the streets of America littered with the detritus of the once hopeful and now unemployed. Instead of really being tough during the past two years, he played the victim, the kid who always tried to “play nice.” The kid who each time he got his skinny butt kicked by the bullies, told his family that he really held his own, that, although he didn’t fend off any blows, didn’t land any either, he felt pretty good about doing the right thing, seeing things from their perspective, reaching out to them, meeting them more than half-way… their way, why, he even offered to lower his pants before the bullies actually de-pantsed him in front of the whole school. But now, with the bullies at a safe distance, having already issued their ultimatums, threats, demands, and with summer camp now ending, he can speak out, chest out, impress with his new-found toughness. His just-discovered resolve. His inner-boehner. Those bullies won’t bother me any more. This is my moment, he says.
I hope this really is President Obama’s often-referred to “moment.” It’s not a moment too soon. Yes, the Republican bullies are backing off a bit. but they’re still lingering around the corner, leaning menacingly against the hallway walls ready to stick out a random foot, a blindside push, snickering to their teabagging fans that you are not legit, that defeating you is worth every job lost and every American not hired. That it’s worth it if defeating you means defeating America. So welcome to the land of the brave, Mr. President. Gird yourself for battle, brace your middle for the blows, raise your fists, head and your voice today above the shouts for yesterday. For over two years you’ve accepted and invited the abuse, the beatings, the insults too meekly, all too kindly. Now step away from the lectern, the lesson plans, the telepromter, come to the middle of the ring and fight. It’s the last round, the bell has rung, you’ve taken a beating and you need a knock-out.