After getting a chance to sit and read the text of "The Chosen One's" speech of Tuesday night I tried to find some analogous framework in my life that was relevant to the content of "His" speech. I found that I could only relate to when I was in my teens and 20's.
Way back in the 1950's and 1960's, one of the easiest ways to get a woman out of her party dress was to use the apocalypse as your wing man. The old line, "Honey, what if the world were to end tomorrow," was designed to narrow prospects for her future, in the hopes that she would spread her legs. And of course, the next morning (if the tryst lasted that long), the sense of terror and urgency would disappear - along with the young man, the lady's honor and probably a thing or two from the fridge and/or her purse.
So it's no wonder that after President Obama's speech, I felt a little like the suckered chick. See, up until last Tuesday night, we were all in a state of panic, thanks to Obama – but now, judging by Tuesday night's tone - it turns out, maybe things aren't so bad after all. "We will recover," he now says. And to me, it feels like the morning after - and he`s saying, "Anyway babe, that was great - I'll call you."
I hope he`s right. I still have a little confidence in the guy, and I want to be wrong about the expanding role of government. But the problem with exaggerating fear is that it obscures legitimate fear. When referring to Iraq, he talks of "ending" the war, instead of "winning." That the concept of victory is unseemly to him – well, that kinda scares me. And tucked away near the end of his address, he manages only a few words about the war on terror, giving it less weight than his obsession for windmills. The scary fact is, if a terror attack were to happen tonight here in the US - our economic troubles would be wiped off the front pages.
Then you'd be truly scared – which probably means we should hook up later.
I mean, seriously –life is short, and why die with regret?
I have a sleeping bag in my truck and I wrote you a poem. Let me get my guitar.