Joe Biden And The Mumbling, Bungling Presidency–The Leader Of The Free World Without A Clue

The President woke up one morning, yawned, and turned to his wife for a kiss.  She had already arisen and was at the vanity putting on her make up.  “Remember, Joe, today is a big day, so don’t be late”.

The President yawned again, had no idea what his wife was talking about, but given his implicit, enduring trust in her and her judgment, he turned back the covers, put on his slippers and bathrobe and made his way to the bathroom.  

The valet, Henry Robinson, who saw that the Bidens were awake, tapped lightly on the door and slowly entered.  “Are you ready for your day, Mr. President?”, the valet politely asked, smiling, and looking over the bedroom to be sure that he hadn’t disturbed the presidential couple. 

“Yes, Henry”, said the President, “come in”; and the morning ablutions began.  The President relied on Henry to shave him, pat on his cologne, pick out and dress him with is presidential suits, ties, shirts, socks, and shoes; comb his hair; and nudge him gently out into the public spaces in which he would have to pass the next twelve hours.  “Are we happy today, Mr. President?”, asked Henry jovially. 

“Yes indeed, Henry, quiet so”, answered the President, and on he went to take the presidential bed tea, the presidential breakfast, and the presidential bracer of coffee.

In the greeting room of the President’s suite were assembled his aides and sub-valets.  “Good morning, Mr. President”, they said in unison, smiling.

The President had tried for weeks to remember their names, but it was all a fog.  He knew he shouldn’t think this way, but he could only remember them by ‘the cute one’, ‘the luscious one’, ‘the tantalizing one’ so he nodded to each with a warm, welcoming smile.  “Good morning everyone”, he said to all.

The President had no idea what he was up to today, but knew that his aide de camp LaShonda Williams, the first black woman to hold this position, would take him in hand.  He chose LaShonda exactly because she was black, not on the basis of race and the political mileage he would get by filling his inner circle with minorities, but because he could easily recognize her, single her out as the primus inter pares of the crew awaiting him.

Not only was she black, but stunningly so – a Nigerian goddess, full-lipped, rouged to accentuate the ebony burnish of her skin, wide, almond eyes, ringlets, and dashiki.  She would never fold into any crowd.

“Whassup?”, said the President, showing his street creds and minority savvy.

“Not much, Mr. President.  Shall we go?”

The President heard “Shall we dance?”, and took LaShonda by the waist and waltzed her out into the foyer.  “It’s going to be a great day”

“Oh, Lord”, said the President sotto voce to LaShonda when he saw the blue haired ladies from Delaware seated in a circle around the Presidential desk in the Oval Office, “Who are they?”

LaShonda went on to explain that these were some of his constituents with links to his family history – ladies whose grandmothers had played croquet with his grandmother, but today they were just ladies in waiting for their dear boy from Wilmington, appearing for a photo op to be published widely in Wilmington, Newark, and Dover. 

Joe was used to such delightful fawning, and even though only a paltry few votes might come out of his smiling, generous teatime with the ladies, he couldn’t help himself.  He might not be able to decipher the national budget these days or make sense of the political fray about his national policies, but he knew genuine, admiring Americans when he saw them.  These ladies were the salt of the earth, bona fide Delawareans, mothers all to promising sons like him, and very much like his own mother.  “

My mother”, he began, speaking to the ladies, “was a saint, a princess, and a star.  She shone brightly every day, the first star in the firmament, the last star to fade at night.  She was a constellation, the sun, and the light of the farthest flung galaxies.”

Here he paused, for he had totally lost his way.  “Galaxy… star… constellation…” he repeated to himself, gathering his thoughts, and trying to find the path he had been on.

LaShonda, used to the President’s vagaries, stepped in, took his elbow, smiled at the Delaware ladies, and thanked them for their attendance and ‘their loyalty to the greatest president these United States have ever seen’.  The ladies squeaked and creaked out of their chairs and gave the President a standing ovation.

The day went on with the same casual rhythm – the Cabinet meeting, the White House staff assembly, the Joint Chiefs roundtable, the CIA security council, the Diversity, Inclusivity, And Racism colloquy, and finally the ‘Women Are Number One’ Rose Garden tea hosted by the President and Oprah Winfrey.  

It was Winfrey’s idea to celebrate womanhood, The Year of the Woman, and ascendant women everywhere and the blessing of the President – the first president to embrace women of color, transgender women, and all women –  would be a joyous anointment of The Second Sex.

“Should we really call it that?”, said the President, ignorant of  Simone de Beauvoir’s seminal feminist work, the irony of its title, and its go-to importance for feminists everywhere.  Oprah’s aides who had come up with the idea and the title has assured her that it was an appropriate title and would resonate with the ‘under the glass ceiling’ crowd. 

The Cabinet meeting passed without incident, Secretaries bandying ideas about with no consequence.  The Joint Chiefs were, as always, anxious to apply ‘the military solution’, take the bull by the horns in Ukraine, and build up our Mediterranean fleet. The Diversity Colloquy was a hodgepodge of invective, soliloquy, and hollering all at the expense of the white man.  A day like all days. 

“Wow, am I tired”, said the President to his wife as he retired to the Presidential chambers.  “How about a game of gin rummy?”, he said to Jill, “or some s’mores?”.

Queen Elizabeth, Winston Churchill, and the Shah of Iran all kept diaries, chronicles of their days in power or regency; and when they eventually came to light were very revealing about the mechanisms of power, the role of the individual within the machine of state, and the nature and character of their enemies.

Joe Biden, encouraged by his wife, started a diary. “My Presidency”, he entitled it, but before he had even gotten to affairs of state, he had chronicled every dunking at Dewey Beach, every misstep at Mrs. Linder’s dancing school, and every twenty-footer sunk at Horse at Henderson Park.

“This won’t do, Joe”, said his wife after she had read the first chapter.  “Not at all. Tomorrow you must get down to business”. 

He gave his wife his famous smile, hugged her, and  tucked into bed.  The picture on the front page of the Washington Post the next morning was of him, toothy smile and all at the Delaware Ladies Tea Party with the tagline, “Biden sips tea while Kyiv burns”. 

“Great photo”, the President said, admiring how his face did not look his eighty years (Still a lot of motor oil in the block, mustard in the jar, spunk in the charge, charge in the battery).  Why, 2024 should be a shoo-in.

His aides and seconds were not so sure.  There was only so much propping up they could do, so much teleprompting and vetting, advance screening and primer reading.  Sooner or later the President would go completely around the bend and find himself in Indiana without a clue to where he was. Time to abandon ship.

The resignations from the White House staff started slowly but eventually became a flood.  Only the most loyal supporters were left in the President’s inner circle.  Of course there was always Lady Kamala, the succubus in the Eisenhower wing, the pretender to his throne, the venom and dagger vixen; but she could never be counted on to tell him what’s what, a stiletto under silken wraps.

So the few aides left scurried about to fill vacancies, difficult when water had already breached the lower decks and the ship was foundering.

“I am the captain of the ship of state”, the President intoned when an aide invoked the metaphor.

Without a faithful coterie, a devoted inner circle, and with an electorate sorely disappointed at his foundering and geriatric stumbling, the President was sure to lead his party to defeat in the midterm elections of 2022.  Although lip service was paid, former supporters moved to the left or the right of him, leaving him alone.

Poor Joe, he deserved better, wrote a columnist who had followed the President from his early Delaware days.  Lots of promise, too little beef in the sandwich, but a nice guy; and so would read his epitaph, nothing more, nothing less.

The Fourth Of July And The Corrosive Attack On Patriotism And American Values

The Fourth of July has become a meaningless holiday compared to those of the early post-WWII years. America had single-handedly won the war against Japan in the Pacific.  After landing at Normandy, American forces pushed the Nazi armies back to Berlin and forced the unconditional surrender of Germany.

Despite a seemingly implacable and resolute enemy,  American soldiers fought their way from island to island across the Pacific to Japan.  Against an equally determined military force, they fought their way across France to final victory in Germany.  Over one million American soldiers were either killed or wounded during World War I, but Asian and European imperialism had been defeated.

In the post-war period, America was universally respected and admired for its collective courage, determination, and will.  Not only was tribute paid to the American military, to the civilian leaders who had quickly mobilized industry and managed the economy in difficult times, and to the American people who had joined the war effort on the home front without complaint or cavil.

Americans felt rightly proud of themselves.  They had given their lives to defeat Hitler and his genocidal, arrogant, and mad effort at world domination, and had fought back against the Japanese after Pearl Harbor with an absolute will to annihilate the enemy.

The Fourth of July was a celebration of American victory, but also a loud cheer for the greatness of America itself.  The world was a better place after George Washington and his colonial armies defeated the British and the Founding Fathers declared independence.  From 1776 until 1945 the history of the United States was one of unparalleled economic growth, social ambition and diversity, and military strength.  Commitment if not devotion to the principles of democracy and private enterprise never wavered and America was indeed exceptional.  Not only did the national economy recover quickly, but thanks to American aid and support, both Germany and Japan were helped back on their feet.

After 1945, world acclaim became more muted and tempered by American misfortune.  The Korean War ended in stalemate after nearly 150,000 casualties.  The Cold War intensified and the possibility of nuclear war increased the more nuclear warheads were aimed at the enemy.

Vietnam was a military and political disaster.  American supremacy had not been challenged by a superpower but by a small Asian nation.   Americans were stunned that ‘a nation of pajama-wearing little men who crawled through tunnels and ate rat meat and cold rice’ could have beaten them.  Ho Chi Minh and his loyalist supporters were having nothing of American arrogance and exceptionalism and neither were people back home.   The Sixties and early Seventies were a time of political and social upheaval, animated by what many thought was an unnecessary, brutal, and mindless war.

America today has fewer enemies, but no fewer conflicts.   No longer economically premier, the US struggles to find common ground or at least conciliation with a newly-confident and powerful Russia; a China whose economic, political, and military power grows stronger every year; enemies like Iran and North Korea which continue to play America successfully.  The United States is at best primus inter pares and at worst simply one of an increasingly competitive international mix.

The chaotic America of 2021 is a far cry from that of 1945 when America was indeed whole, solidly united, and visionary. Not only have its military victories become part or a dim historic background, but its failures have been used as justification for rejecting national pride.  The Vietnam War and the adventurism in Iraq and Afghanistan have dulled any sense of American rectitude or moral purpose.  The nation is not, as Ronald Reagan, said, a ‘shining city upon a hill’, but a hegemonic bully.

At home, the once-celebrated principles of the Declaration of Independence and the Bill of Rights have become eroded by political and social divisions.  The polity of the nation has fractured.  The individualism that Jefferson envisaged – individual enterprise within the context of community and civic responsibility – has been replaced by a more venal and selfish one.  

America, says the political Left, is a corrupt, racist nation; a white supremacist colony, a brutal, oppressive regime of greed, social indifference, and ingrained, systemic prejudice.  There can be no greatness here as long as the black man is condemned to perpetually slavery, social and sexual minorities are marginalized, and the poor robbed of their dignity. 

America is a shameful, pitiful example of the worst that humanity has to offer.  This is The Year Zero shout progressives who, echoing Pol Pot, the Khmer dictator who forced millions into involuntary servitude to his Maoist state in a radical effort to erase the past and create a new, better, communitarian world.   America deserves no less.  

So-called civil liberties are nothing  more than vain fantasies perpetuated by a corrosive elite.  Our so-called cultural heritage, the legacy of Jefferson and Hamilton, the philosophy of the Enlightenment, is only a reminder of our slave-owning, murderous, incivility and must be erased.

It is no wonder, then, that the Fourth of July has become an empty celebration of fireworks, cookouts, and a three-day weekend.  Most Americans have only the dimmest appreciation for the nature of their Revolution, the philosophical principles instituted in the Bill of Rights, or the vision of the Founding Fathers; and given the clamor and unmuted drumbeat  What is there to celebrate except celebration itself?

Today freedom, justice, the pursuit of liberty and happiness, fairness, equality – all 18th Century principles enshrined in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution – are marginal footnotes.   Yet Samuel Adams’s words to Franklin, Adams, Jefferson, and Hamilton are not empty but vital:

The sum of all is, if we would most truly enjoy the gift of Heaven, let us become a virtuous people; then shall we both deserve and enjoy it.  While, on the other hand, if we are universally vicious and debauched in our manners, though the form of our Constitution carries the face of the most exalted freedom, we shall in reality be the most abject slaves.

Freedom was not just a vague concept according to the Founding Fathers, but a given right, part of an American’s legacy.  It was a responsibility, and there was always the danger of falling from freedom to ‘abject slavery’.  Adams and others, particularly Jefferson who was influenced by John Locke, believed that freedom and ‘the pursuit of happiness’ had little to do with personal satisfaction or venal interests.  They were the foundation for civic liberty and justice to be nurtured and cared for.

This nurture and care was everyone’s responsibility.  If freedom, justice, and fairness were to be guaranteed for all Americans, then each American had a duty to promote them, secure them, and protect them:

I know of no safe depositor of the ultimate powers of a society but the people themselves; and if we think them not enlightened enough to exercise their control with a wholesome discretion, the remedy is not to take it from them, but to inform their discretion by education.  This is the true corrective of abuses of constitutional power (Thomas Jefferson).

There of course is a fundamental difference between empty patriotism and honor and respect for one’s country.  Most calls to patriotism have been thinly veiled exploitive means to rally a citizenry around a deadly cause.  Jefferson and his colleagues when founding the new republic did not do so out of victorious arrogance but out of a principled ambition to create a better place than the exploitive colonial regime of the British.  

atriotism was not an issue at the time of the birth of the nation.  Everyone  fought the British, and all suffered because of the harsh, rigid, and unfair administration of our occupiers.  There was no clarion call to arms for abstract reasons of patriotism, but to free our country from the yoke of British rule.  The revolt was real, immediate, and understandable.

Henry V rallied his troops before the battle of Agincourt with calls to patriotism, the greatness of England, and the absolute rights of the English to the French throne.  In his famous ‘band of brothers’ speech before the final battle, he not only appealed to nationalism and country, but said that fighting together in this most righteous of causes would unite both nobles and common men.  It was not only duty and honor to which Henry appealed, but the communion of English souls.

Later in Shakespeare’s play Henry in disguise discusses his decision to fight the French with some of his troops, common soldiers commandeered into service.  He looked for approbation from them on the rightness of his cause – one which was tortuously and tenuously justified through long academic history.  He hated the fact that his grandfather, Henry IV, might have been a usurper, and now he might also be an illegitimate pretender to the throne of France; and so when the common soldiers suggested that he was committing thousands of Englishmen to a probable death because of his rarified, barely justifiable, and esoteric noble goals, Henry was shocked.  Weren’t they part of his valorous band of brothers, together in goal and spirit?

Despite his reflection on the questionable nature of his cause and on the moral question of sending thousands to their death for such an improbable claim, he  executed his plans.  He took Agincourt, secured French lands and power, and went on to be a great English hero.

He relied on patriotism – the ideal of fighting for the glory of country and the rightness of its cause – to consolidate the support of his troops; and the call to action in the service of one’s country was no more than a silver-tongued, impassioned exhortation to take the first bullet.

Patriotism was the South’s call to arms in the Civil War and it fought to preserve the plantation- and slavery-based, aristocratic system of the English cavaliers.  Like the soldiers of Henry V, those of the Confederacy knew or cared little about the patriotic sentiments expressed by their commanders.

They were sent to the slaughter under a banner of regionalism, the causes and principles of which they only vaguely understood.

All wars coalesce public opinion and strengthened the morale of fighting men through patriotism, and the honor and duty to country; and in all wars the principles enunciated by political leaders mean little to the common man.  It was only through emotional appeals to patriotism that these leaders were able to pursue their ends.

How else would doughboys have poured over the trenches in World War I into a withering hail of bullets, dying at a rate almost matching that of the most deadly of conflicts, the Civil War?  Who understood the real reasons for the European conflict, Archduke Ferdinand, and petty border differences between the descendants of ancient kings?  Very few; but all understood the meaning of the tocsin call to arms.  Which of the 70,000 men who died at the Battle of Borodino understood Napoleon’s grand imperialistic schemes or the nature of Russian aristocratic claims to Europe?

Religious patriotism sent hundreds of thousands to their deaths in the Crusades.  All had to fight for Christianity against the infidel and to rid Europe of the scourge of Islam.  The Mexican-American War was not fought defensively or over issues of survival but Westward expansion, and many criticized President Polk for his aggressive attempts to take over Mexican lands in his march to the Pacific.  The death toll and cost of the war were considerable; and yet the war was fought to support American interests.  A call to patriotism in this questionable cause was heard throughout the land.

President McKinley prosecuted the short Spanish-American War because of similar ‘national interests’, i.e. fighting to eliminate Spanish influence in the Pacific.  Again, a questionable war, with many dead and more wounded.

The War of 1812 had more justification, and despite the fact that it was fought over a simple issue – the impressing of American seamen – it really was about ridding the United States once and for all from English influence.  Once again, it was a war about territory, influence, and power, and patriotism was the wearying call to arms.

The country today, however, is without any patriotism at all.  Geopolitics and presumed moral authority have replaced it as operational philosophies.  America either acts according to Machiavellian principles or moral righteousness.  We act because we must, say politicians still stinging from the ignominious defeat in Vietnam and the nonsensical wars in Afghanistan and Iraq which did nothing to democratize, stabilize, or improve the countries invaded. 

Since at home the nation is depicted as one of evil, there can be no generic patriotism; not pride in the country’s character or achievements.   The image of America at home and abroad is one of a pitiful giant, aimless, soulless, and shameful.  No wonder no one really celebrates the meaning of the Fourth of July, but goes through the motions.  Parades are few and far between, symbols they have become of militarism and American adventurism. Flags have become the symbol of the American Right, not of the nation.

The Fourth will come and go, forgotten, dismissed, and dishonored.