Follow That Squirrel!
If you're old enough to remember Alexander Haig's famous bon mot, "I'm in charge here," you'll recognize what can happen in the midst of a perceived national "incident." Lines of power get crossed and sparks fly as a result. The strong personalities jump to the fore and weak ones hang back. Neither are particularly wrong - just different.
However, this week, when our nation was under the threat, or perceived threat of hostile intent, we find our Commander-In-Chief, the one with flight suit and "Top Gun" thumbs up, biking in the Maryland countryside. Nothing wrong with that. Good to know that he's staying in shape, just in case he has to run the 440 hurdles for Prep U.
What's unthinkable, however, and what really happened, was that no one told The President, the Commander-in-Chief of These United States, that any of this was happening. No one called to say, "Hey, Wifey and all of Capitol Hill are being evacuated, 'cause a plane has breached the high-security airspace around the White House. It might be a dork who doesn't have his IFR rating or a drunken dolt or a terroriest intent on dropping a small nuclear device. We just don't know, Mr. President."
Nope. Nobody called. In fact, it seems like contacting the Supreme Allied Moron was the last thing on their minds. He was safely downshifting and charging up a hill after an errant chipmunk.
But, as Presidential mouthpiece McClellan pointed out repeatedly to the press, the "protocols were followed." Great, Scott. Clearly, the protocols put into place after 9/11 have this caveat; whatever you do, don't bother Dubya with anything important. Put Cheney in his concrete bunker...but let Faux Prez ride it out in the sylvan splendor of the Maryland woods.
For my part, I'm pretty happy about this. If 9/11 taught us anything it was that Dubya could neither fathom the deep allegorical content of "My Pet Goat," nor could he be trusted to act like a real leader. In some ways, ANYONE else would be a better choice when the real bullets fly or the bombs drop...
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