Some of us hoped, or thought, that American politics had left the creepy Obama-messiah complex back in the first term of his presidency. It wasn’t enough for the first-term senator to be a leading presidential candidate; no, he had to be “The One,” as Oprah declared; he was a Light Worker, as an op-ed in a San Francisco newspaper asserted; he was the fulfillment of an “American Prayer,” as pop stars sang; he was “sort of God,” as Evan Thomas said, he was the “God of All Things,” as a Newsweek cover declared in 2010. Obama the smoker was declared one of the 25 fittest men in America by Men’s Fitness magazine.
We should never underestimate the Democrat/American/human capacity for manufactured enthusiasm, and people persuading themselves that their preferred candidate isn’t merely the best choice among the options, but is the living, breathing embodiment of all good qualities. Hero worship, cult of personality, a refusal to acknowledge any flaws in the Great Leader . . . this habit won’t go away anytime soon, it seems.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you “Chelsea’s Mom,” sung to the tune of Fountains of Wayne’s “Stacy’s Mom.”
“From sea to shining sea, she’ll fight for liberty, she’s sexy and she’s strong, we’re gonna vote for Chelsea’s mom . . . ”
Yeah . . . no. No. No, no, no, no, no, no.
