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Obama's greatest victory of the entire past year -- his crowning achievement for the past twelve months in the most powerful office in all the world -- is his celebrated triumph in successfully producing a common form of secondary identification.
As of right now, that's what he's running on: That he, like 88% of all non-incarcerated adults in America, has access to his own personal records.
Look how ineffably pleased with himself he is about all this:
And for the past two nights I've endured Chris Matthews telling me about Obama's "brilliant" "Perry Mason moment," how masterful he was in all of this.
This is what he's doing victory laps on right now. That's what Chris Matthews is praising him to the heavens for. He's grinning like King Shit of Fuck Mountain, and bathing in rapturous applause, because he accomplished something considerably less difficult than opening a Netflix account.
Pardon the word -- are we not treating the President of the United States like a retard? Are we not, perhaps, condescending to him in indulging him like this?
This is his big initiative for the month? He showed a piece of identification?
Years from now, looking back at the "good times," he'll turn to a former adviser and say, "Remember -- remember when I produced the shit out of that birth certificate? Like a Warrior-Poet I made a routine request of a petty bureaucrat for a mundane copy of a run of the mill record. Days of wine and roses that was, days of... Glory."
And his former advisor, who I imagine in chainmail and a Scottish accent, will say, "Aye, fine days indeed, fine days indeed. How the very Heavens shook at our mighty filings and furious paperwork."
That's what he's got. That's what he's managed for 2010-2011.
Six months from now, I hear he's going to announce a "major initiative" to subscribe to Sports Illustrated, and then a "five year plan" to buy a "nice pair of trousers."