Let me save you the trouble of calling me a miserable old crank of a spoil-sport. I am a miserable old crank of a spoil sport! You might want to consider getting used to it, because it appears I may have found my niche.
Now that the formalities are out of the way, allow me to do my thang.
I know that politics is more complicated than my limited, apathetic understanding of it. Even so, I know what I like and don’t like. One thing I don’t like is seeing the President of the United States playing karaoke with blues legends. I honestly don’t care if he has talent or not. Not only do I not want to see him singing, I don’t want people from all over the world watching him sing either.
Don’t misunderstand, this is NOT about Obama’s proficiency or lack thereof in doing the difficult job of being President; this is about how I get kind of queasy watching people doing things which they should stay the hell away from. Please go back and read that again – I don’t want a bunch of Obama-lovers or -bashers leaving comments all over my nice neat blog. I just finished getting the Vincent Price-related stains out of it and I’d like to keep it tidy.
It’s not just Obama singing the blues; I also have a problem with junior high school principals trying their hand at rap during assemblies and with corporate executives giving stand-up comedy a whirl at the shareholders meeting. People need to know their skill sets. They need to know that they’re only getting applause because the audience is afraid they’ll be given detention or get their asses fired.
I realize that in the never-ending desire to get themselves elected or re-elected, political candidates have to kiss babies they wouldn’t otherwise want to smooch. To garner the votes of a largely Polish region, they might need to scarf down a few pierogies. To woo the folks in Dallas, they might wear a Cowboys jersey (Yes, politicians can be THAT shallow). Let’s not make any incorrect presumptions about Obama’s singing being an effort to woo voters. To the best of my knowledge, he doesn’t need to work any harder to get the blues legend vote. There are only a handful of true blues legends out there, and most of them are busy living and touring in Europe where their talent is appreciated.
When you think about it, being the President of the United States is not a position which is overly glamorous in appearance. There are endless hours in meetings and sitting behind desks and signing things. There are still more meetings where members of the congress and senate must be convinced to work together in a bipartisan effort (insert laugh track here). Half the good photo ops are ruined by those pesky Secret Service guys getting between you and the lens. Let me see, what else? There are ribbons to cut, more things to sign, Christmas trees to light and turkeys to pardon. All in all, a visually bland existence.
I’m going to go ahead and say it; I’m okay with that! I don’t need to see the President walking his dog, singing – alone or with Blind Lemon Jefferson – or vacationing (Lord knows, that seems to be a job with some serious vacation time). If I have to see him at all, he should be at his desk in a suit looking serious. He can have his sleeves rolled up and tie off if he’s hammering out some sort of proclamation or declaring war on low-nutrition school lunches.
If he has a hankering to belt out an Al Green song, he can damn well do it in the shower or at a red light, like the rest of us.