At long last, I thought I’d reached the point where nothing President Obama did on the world stage could shock me. I’d seen it all. I had endured his Apology Tour, wherein he called America “arrogant,” “dismissive,” “derisive,” “disengaged,” and “off course.” By his final stop, I was numb. I was used to it.
But how about when he gave England’s Prime Minister and Queen some DVD’s and an Ipod? Nope. I felt nothing. I was used to it.
Ben Ghazi? Four dead and a coverup? Tragic, but I was used to it.
Pulling out of Iraq too soon, and even telling our enemies when we’d do it? Used to it.
Getting bullied by Putin over the Ukraine? Used to it.
Ever-retreating, “red lines in the sand?” Used to it.
Normalizing Cuban relations without concessions? C’mon, that at least deserved a raised eyebrow!
Nope. Nothing. Little Chief “Throws Like a Girl” had me fully anesthetized. I was bullet-proof.
Then, for the President who never lets crises go to waste, a golden opportunity arose. France was attacked, savagely, by Islamic Terrorists. Shocked to the core, all of Europe—along with other nations—joined an historic march, stating as one that Radical Islam would no longer be tolerated.
Inexplicably, Obama missed this march...and I still wasn’t fazed. After all, this guy won’t say “Radical Islam” when describing who we’re fighting, which is akin to the Patriots saying their Super Bowl is against “all who would do them harm”—not just some isolated sect from the otherwise peace-loving Seahawk faith.
So when Obama failed to lock arms against terrorism, I still felt nothing.
But then came John Kerry and James Taylor. And after the years I’d spent staring blankly ahead like a lobotomized psych ward inmate, my jaw was about to drop.
Taking heat for missing the march, Obama reluctantly conceded he should do…something. Anything. But what? What could make up for skipping an event that won’t be duplicated in our lifetimes? We couldn’t exactly send a “Happy Belated Solidarity Against Evil” card—though Hallmark should create some for President Lead-From-Behind. No, this called for something big; something with a French-style message like, “All for one, one for all!” No expense would be spared. France would see, once and forever, America’s commitment to help destroy the monsters threatening Western Civilization.
And here was Obama’s response: He sent John Kerry—our military-blaming, pacifist Secretary of State—along with another anti-war fossil, musician James Taylor. O…M…freaking…G. For those too young to recall the soothing tones of this 70’s hippie, I’ll keep it simple: He makes ENYA look tough. Remember Snuggles, that bear who sold fabric softener? After each ad shoot, Snuggles would wind down from a hard day of blanket cuddling by writing in his journal—and listening to James Taylor.
Yep, that was Obama’s show of force; our pledge of strength. Should these head-chopping barbarians ever again threaten our allies, we would send in a crack team of aging folk singers. Don’t test us, terrorists! We’re not bluffing! O…M…freaking…G. This was like…like…like challenging Darth Vader to a pillow fight!
(Incidentally, I’m a skilled pillow-fighter. Were Vader and I to cross paths, he’d soon find himself saying, “The Force is strong with this one”)
Oh, but it gets worse than just sending peaceniks and rainbows. Taylor actually sang “You’ve Got a Friend” to the leaders of France. No, seriously. And they had to listen, as if they hadn’t suffered enough. Plunking forth from that acoustic guitar, each agonizing note left the French stunned, wondering how friends singing folk tunes would help against jihadists shouting “Allahu Akbar!”
People, we have hit rock bottom. Maybe after the next attack, Obama will comfort some battle-scarred nation by reviving The Captain and Tennille to sing “Love Will Keep Us Together.” And to reassure Israel of our steadfast alliance, ABBA can reunite with “Take A Chance On Me.”
There I sat, mouth open, in utter disbelief. James Taylor? Sherry-sipping, yacht-sailing John Kerry, and James Taylor? O…M…freaking…G. Inside one generation, America had gone from “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” to John Kerry following a James Taylor tune with “Don’t worry, Franth! If the bad guyth ever come back, we will thlap them thilly!” Then, turning to Taylor, “One more time!”
As Europe looked on in speechless horror, John and James showed how even France is tougher than us. Yes, France. Mind you, when watching all those people marching on TV, I initially assumed they were re-enacting one of France’s great retreats. Then, as I noticed they weren’t throwing down guns or serving as chefs for their captors, it hit me: They were serious. They had woken up. Radical Islam had finally gone too far, and enough was enough. More than a symbolic statement, this march was signaling a great turning point in the war on terror.
And what of America? What of the world’s greatest super-power for freedom?
We sent John Kerry. And James Taylor. And we sent them late. Europe, you haven't got a friend. You’ve got a wuss. Once the Arsenal of Democracy, we are now the Great Sissy of the West.
Congratulations, President Obama. I’m finally shocked. O…M…freaking…G.