What Obama’s Town Hall Charade and Pam Anderson’s Breasts Have in Common

Posted: Aug 16, 2009 12:00 AM

I was watching Obama’s town hall meeting in Portsmouth this past week, and I’ve got to give it to Barack and his boys . . . I haven’t seen choreography that tight since the finale of So You Think You Can Dance.

I bet if the Queen of Scream, Mary Murphy, was watching that little Cirque du Soleil she would have been yelling, “Barack, I think I hear a whistle blowing! Yep, I hear it! Woo woo! It’s the Hot Tamale Train, and it’s coming to pick you up, honey! Get your chocolate milkshake on the Hot Tamale Train! Woo woo woo!” Then her head would spin 360 degrees as she rises from her seat, hikes up her dress and runs straight through a sheetrock wall and down the studio alley until Nigel summons Ted Nugent to come and shoot her with an elephant tranquilizing dart.

Yep, that was a beautiful little tango Obama danced with his White House appointed Portsmouth crowd. (I wonder if there’s a Crowd Czar yet? No? Well, give ‘em a week.) I’ll be damned if Obama can’t get a doting throng when he needs one. Weren’t they sweet, cute and capitulating? Unlike the rest of the nation, there was nary a contrary word in New Hampshire.

Y’know, our good old Mr. Hope & Change has a cabal handy at the drop of the red fez, whether it’s ACORN lug nuts ready to register Mickey Mouse to vote, some SEIU hooligans waiting to whup a conservative black guy’s butt outside a town hall meeting, or a gaggle of splooge-brained Clockwork Orange droogies begging to drool on his Health Scare plan in the Granite State. Achtung, baby!

Matter of fact, as Erick Erickson’s outfit, Redstate.com, pointed out: You can make some cash being one of Barack’s butt kissers. Why, hell yeah! I mean, aside from it being illegitimate and disingenuous, why shouldn’t you make some drachmas drumming up “unsolicited” support for Obama and the dreams of his father?

Check it out: Liberal organizations, advertising now on Craigslist, pay you $325 - $500 a week to tramp around to various town hall meetings to make a big stink on behalf of B-HO and his ShamWow! (They especially want blacks and homosexuals! I ain’t making this up. Check the adverts!) And you thought Craigslist was just a classifieds site for cheap washers and dryers and 13-year-old hookers. Silly you.

Now, thanks to Obama’s Rent-a-Mob, thoughtless people watching this past week’s Clown Hall were left thinking after Tuesday’s tête-à-tête that everyone is cool with his granny-slaying, obfuscated to the hundredth power, 1,100 page bill (Or is it bills? Heck, who knows?). Yes, “everyone loves it, everyone wants it by tomorrow, and unicorns and centaurs are real!”

The only problem with the Portsmouth town hall is that it was more artificially stacked with Obama lap dogs than Pam Anderson’s ta-tas are with boat caulk. Of course the meeting was upbeat and thumping . . . it was contrived. A Cyclops could see that. Look, as a knuckle-dragging heterosexual who lives in a God-blessed testosterone fog, I don’t mind fake when it comes to breasts. But when it comes to being conned by a Boob and his stacked crowd, well . . . I gotta admit . . . that makes me want to spit.

The high low point (or low high point) in Obama’s deceptive dance was when they trotted out little Julia Hall, you know, the daughter of Kathleen Manning Hall, the high rolling operative who ran Massachusetts Women for Obama during the election? Little Julia was so worried about the “mean things” people were saying about Obama, and she was wondering how kiddos can “know what is true, and why do people want a new system that can help more of us?”

I couldn’t believe it. When the White House trotted that little pony out it was the final straw that made me think they must believe we are a bunch of stupid, stupid bastards. Or, or, the white House, blinded by hubris, has just moved into daft mode and gone stupid. Yeah, the conservatives are the ones who are fabricating questions and protests. Puh-lease. After that SNL moment I was expecting Barack to turn to Will Ferrell dressed up like Jesus in the audience for the next softball puff query. Where are Penn and Teller when you need ‘em?

The only shiny moment for me, aside from him outright lying about AARP’s endorsement and the nineteen other bald-faced lies (see KeithHennessey.com) during Tuesday’s masturbatory meeting was when Obama went rogue and strayed from the teleprompter, comparing his health care plan to the efficient U. S. Postal Service. That’s the same post office that just delivered a letter I wrote to my dad twenty-one years ago.

Yes, Virginia, when I saw the ‘prompter mechanically collapse into the stage and realized B-HO was about to go off script, I thought, “Yee-frickin’-haw. What’s he gonna say, Lord? Is he going to insult an upstanding white cop? Is he gonna channel Michelle and call America a mean nation?” Nope, he compared his health care bill to a crappy postal system. Obamacare is going postal.

You see, agnostics and atheists, there may be a God after all—and Barack be not his name.

To experience my feelings put to music, check out my new music video The Age of Nefarious right here: