Pathological narcissism
By Kelly O'Connell Sunday, February 21, 2010 As regards defining personality traits, Barack Obama’s chief attribute will undoubtedly go down as pathological narcissism. But it also doesn’t help his cause that he has a glass chin the size of Beijing’s Bird’s Nest Stadium. Barack simply can’t take criticism in any constructive fashion. But why is that? Fundamentally, despite his Ivy League pedigree, it seems Obama sprouted to maturity without any of the normal struggles, ordeals, obstacles or setbacks against progress that normally aid in the development of character, depth, maturity and wisdom.
Like the greenhouse-raised petunia, upon entering a real-world environment, with all the inclement weather, scorching sun and other unpredictable elements—the light and heat went straight to his head and he degenerated from a prosperous seedling to a stunted and shocked vegetative state. And now he’s even developed drooping popularity. Poor Barack!!
Now, consider: Before assuming the US presidency, Obama was protected like the elusive unicorn; or a fragrant holy cow; or King Arthur’s magic albino stag; or some other insufferably coddled sacred beast. For example, when running for his first Illinois state senate election, all Barack’s opponents were conveniently driven off the ballot by individual lawsuits, one-by-one. And when it finally came to his US Senate race, his opponent, Jack Ryan, watched as his legally sealed divorce records, with their damaging personal information, were exposed like an anonymous tip dialed into the IRS on April 14th. Ryan, too, dropped out. Even for a neophyte, it’s a bit hard to lose a race with only one candidate running! (apologies to Alan Keyes)
So, instead of being buffeted by life’s vagaries, and experiencing all the setbacks associated with coming up tough in a hard world, Barack was kowtowed to like the next black-velvet Elvis. And how sad for all the rest of us who have to absorb his endless pontificating lectures, stern Stalin-esque rebukes, bloviated teleprompting speeches, and holier-than-Mao homilies! And yet, the same Obama who believes himself a bona fide World Spirit didn’t even have the moxies to plot a “Plan B”, just in case his initial imperial presidential plans were booted to the curb. Talk about a rank amateur!
It doesn’t help, of course, when you are the lex animata, ie the living lawgiver, of your cause. Obama is nothing less than the organic embodiment of his movement’s message, and everything he says is trenchant and terribly important. He’s like a postmodern Shakespeare holding court at, say—the local union hall or welfare office. This was wonderful, until screwups surfaced that even the Lame-Brained Media had to report on it. His advisers should have realized offering up Barack as the next paper mache Moses was not a good career move. There is nowhere to head but down from the mountaintop experience, while toting the Styrofoam “change mandate” tablets.
But the problem is much deeper than this. In essence, Obama’s struggle is he’s been shielded, protected, and treated like a prodigy for so long, he’s never had the opportunity to develop like a normal person. For example, how many reporters and networks chose to look the other way, whistling – when all of BO’s ultra-leftist, socialist, and communist pals came to light? Who else could have a BMF (Best Male Friend) who actually bombed US Government buildings, but never apologized or repented, yet still have the matter treated like a 2nd grade food-fight at Camp Lenin?!!
Actually, a “prodigy” in ancient Rome was not what we think of today – a wonderful young personality or incipient genius. Instead, their version was known as prodigium, meaning a “portent / monster, unnatural thing.” A freak whose sudden appearance meant the gods were furious. Doesn’t this intriguing contrast splendidly cover the gamut of the the current Obama v. USA conundrum? Acclaimed a young miracle worker of a politician who would overtake the modern world like a Caesar Augustus on a crack binge; instead, he turns out to be a terrifying monstrosity – a technology addicted, talking-point belching, socialist abomination—in a red spandex suit, candy apply cape, and Karl Marx mask with lettered back, reading “C-H-A-N-G-E!”
In Rome, the birth of something grotesque like a two-headed baby would send the hapless residents skittering into a frightened panic, wringing their hands over the portentous and menacing divine warning. But here, we’re stuck with Obama and Joe Biden sharing one-head, half a brain, and a smoking teleprompter while employing Cat-in-the-Hat styled alchemy, trying to coax Hope into Change. If they can only translate Das Kapital into the US Code, and therefore produce Department of Motor Vehicle level healthcare for all of us, they will retire happy. Not an easy task, friends!
He’s the original Robo-President; just add speaking skills, a big cheesy smile, and Communist Manifesto talking points
Barack is therefore like a test-tube conceived, laboratory-born running back who’s never faced a single tackler before being drafted #1 into the NFL. So his strength and speed have not once been challenged on a real field – let alone his brains, common sense, character or heart. In fact, one might consider BO the Todd Marinovich of world leaders. He’s the original Robo-President; just add speaking skills, a big cheesy smile and Communist Manifesto talking points.
And speaking of cheesy, with his prominent ears, he might resemble a giant socialist rodent, come to gnaw the parched trunk of capitalism down to its taproot. Or, in remembering our classical forebears, the Roman poet Horace may have had a Barack-type in mind when he wrote, “The hills churned and produced a leftist rat.” (ok, ok…technically, the translation is: “The mountains will be in labour; an absurd mouse will be born.” Ars Poetica. 139.)
It wouldn’t be easy growing up like a junior league Buddha, or a child incarnation of the dollar-store Dali Lama, and we should all be somewhat sympathetic of Obama’s hothouse background. Emphasis on “somewhat,” of course, given how dangerously out-of-touch Barack normally is with the world. Having BO at the grasp of the nuclear red-button is about as comforting as knowing the next room contains a colicky toddler in a crib full of live grenades. But fortunately, he considers himself an exemplar of pacifism; that is – when he’s not lying on his White House rotating oval bed, picking off cotton-tipped Muslim terrorists from his wide-screen TV with a remote-controlled, jacked-up glider, bearing heat-seeking missiles.
Obama doesn’t seem to get the whole political “big picture,” does he? He obviously wasn’t taking notes the day Aristotle was discussed, who defined politics as simply encouraging noble deeds which result in human happiness. But, if even a Rodney King can ask, “Can’t we all just get along?!!” – then what is BO’s problem? Maybe hanging out with just socialists, Marxists and free radicals while in college, as he bragged in one of his autobiographies—was not a fit training exercise for the leader of the democratic world?!!
And what is it with Barack and “medical reform,” anyway? Doesn’t he understand his approach to Obamacare is like living next-door to cult missionaries? There is never any compelling logic to his appeals, and apparently no end to the dreary sales-pitch either, even when the door is slamming in his face or after he claims he’d already given up. But now we are faced with government run healthcare ratified via date-rape, ie passed by the nonsensically named ‘reconciliation’ process.
Some astute commentators have asked if and when Obama will have his epiphany, his wakeup call, his Road to Damascus experience and realize his USA = USSR fantasies are just a cheap retrograde horror film. But, like the ambulatory walking-dead in Zombieland, this is about as likely to happen as for frozen baloney to evolve into prime rib; for MSNBC to start referring to Gov. Sarah Palin as “presidential” or for Rosie O’Donnell to offer to surrogate Ann Colter and Rush Limbaugh’s baby in her porcine uterus.
Obama is like some hideously unappealing holiday gift you anonymously receive, but can’t figure out from where it came to return it. So maybe we can just wrap him up in red plastic paper with a big “Green” bow for Christmas 2012 and send him to Russia to act as Putin’s second-banana-flunky—until the Russian neutron dwarf president is ready to retire? At least that is a game-plan for how to get rid of an unpleasant surprise gift, that continually emits a strange, ticking sound – with a smile on your face and a song in your heart! Either that, or back to the compost pile with the rest of the political effluent with former President Barack Obama!