What keeps me up nights is that Barack Obama, who’s convinced he could iron out our differences with despots and Islamic butchers if he could just sit down with them and flash his pearly whites, might wind up in the Oval Office. This is a guy, after all, who not only thinks we have 57 states, but that John Kennedy brought about a successful conclusion to the Cuban missile crisis by hashing things out over a cup of tea with Nikita Khrushchev.

What appeasers fail to understand is that once you sit down as equals with those who wish to slice your throat, your head is already halfway off your neck.

If I had the opportunity to chat with Barack Obama, I’d tell him a story about me and my cousin Rodney. When I was a kid, I used to dread family get-togethers because I knew that if Rodney showed up, I would be in for an afternoon of non-stop Indian burns, noogies and being wrestled into submission. My entire miserable day would be spent saying “Uncle!” to my cousin.

One day, even though Rodney was bigger and stronger than I was, I decided that enough was enough. The moment he started in, I punched him right in the nose. Even I was shocked when it started to bleed, but I must confess I was pretty happy when the tears welled up in Rodney’s eyes and he ran off to tell his parents.

Is it just possible that Barack Obama has never had to learn how to deal with a real life bully? If that’s the case, I sure don’t want him getting on-the-job training at America’s expense.

Just as a side note, Rodney never again tried to pick on me. In fact, the next time I saw him was when his parents, as a peace offering, I suppose, invited me to join the three of them for a game of miniature golf. On that occasion, I made my cousin bleed again when I whacked him in the skull with my golf club. But I swear that was an accident, and I felt awful about it. Still, just in case Rodney had been harboring any thoughts of revenge, I’m pretty sure I knocked them clear out of his head.