Video: NASA Chief: One of the Foremost Tasks Obama Gave Me was to Make Muslims “Feel Good” About Themselves…

Video: NASA Chief: One of the Foremost Tasks Obama Gave Me was to Make Muslims “Feel Good” About Themselves…

July 5th, 2010

NASA Administrator Charles Bolden explains what Obama has charged him with doing as the head of NASA.

Foremost on that list…?

“to find a way to reach out to the Muslim world and engage much more with predominantly Muslim nations to help them feel good about their historic contribution to science, math, and engineering”
Obama’s new mission for NASA?

Make Muslims feel good about themselves…

Guess exploring space by launching off of exploding tin cans at thousands of miles per hour wasn’t “cool” enough for Obama.

NASA Chief: Obama wants me to Make Muslims “Feel Good” About Themselves…video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUNc9bWu_1I&feature=player_embedded

A Surreal Presidency Obama revives the theatre of the absurd….

A Surreal Presidency

 

Posted By David Solway On June 21, 2010 @ 12:01 am In FrontPage | 24 Comments

 In thinking of Barack Obama’s presidency, I can’t help recalling the Comte de Lautréamont [1]’s definition of Surrealism as the quintessence of the Absurd: “the encounter of an umbrella and a sewing-machine on a dissection table.” For this is certainly the most surreal presidency since Jimmy Carter’s, or even Andrew Jackson’s—or, more likely, the most implausible and Absurd administration in the entirety of American history.

Let us see how Lautréamont applies. It is raining debt and joblessness on the United States, but Obama and his crew are protected by an umbrella so vast it resembles Muammar Gaddafi’s tent. Obama enjoys the top job in the country and avails himself lavishly of all its perks, posting as well an annual income in the millions of dollars [2], over five million [3] in 2009 alone. His cohorts and backers are doing quite proudly too, not to mention Democratic godfather George Soros, one of the world’s richest men. Home foreclosures and job terminations are not an issue for these people, who are good at theoretical empathy and not much else, apart from making the situation even worse than it already is. As for the sewing-machine, it is busy at work stitching a fabric of lies and subterfuges, from global warming to Green energy to cap-and-trade to socialized medicine. And on the dissection table an entire nation is being cut to shreds to the jubilant disbelief of America’s dedicated enemies. The borders are porous, military spending is being reduced, terrorists are Mirandized, geopolitical adversaries are regarded as aggrieved friends-in-waiting and real friends are given the cold shoulder. On the domestic front, genuine popular movements seeking beneficial change are slandered as an army of thugs and seditionists. All this is Surrealism with a vengeance.

Carter and Jackson serve as theatrical analogies. Jimmy Carter, as we all know, was (and is) the archetypal wimp who never met a theocrat he didn’t like and gave us the Iran we know today while eventually selling out to the Saudis, the principal funders of his misnamed Peace Center. Carter was conceivably the worst president in POTUS history until the present incumbent appeared to bring the highest office in the land into turmoil and disrepute. Andrew Jackson, according to his biographer James Parton [4], was a bundle of contradictions: “A democratic aristocrat. An urbane savage. An atrocious saint.” Founder of the Democratic Party, Jackson was one of the most interesting and selectively dynamic in the almanac of presidential characters, but also one of the most problematic, especially with respect to the institution of slavery. Both Carter and Jackson, each in his own unique way, were spectacles that almost defied credence. Both were made for the Theatre of the Absurd, one a grovelling clown without an iota of reason to his credit and the other a blustering commander who dominated the political proscenium with his personal eccentricities.

They have now been pre-empted by Barack Obama, aided and abetted by an apostolic media that refused to examine his tainted past [5] and divinized him as someone rather more than merely human. One remembers that old joke about the media’s relation to George W. Bush. If he had walked on water, the headlines would have read: “Bush can’t swim.” But with Obama it’s exactly the other way round. If he went for a swim, the headlines would read: “Obama too modest to reveal messianic powers.”

What many have failed to recognize until recently is that Obama is no wonder-worker, no farsighted statesman, no honest broker, no competent chief executive, no bipartisan healer—and in point of fact, he is simply not presidential material at all. Obama has absolutely no idea of how to go about running a country. But it would be a mistake to assume that he is nothing more than an untalented bungler, for he is blessed with thespian aptitudes that none of his predecessors could have mustered. Obama is a man with a résumé so thin it would look sideways head-on, but he is unexcelled as a performer.

Obama is essentially an actor in a kind of Brechtian drama promoting a neo-Marxist ideology, say, The Caucasian Chalk Circle [6], mixed with robust elements of Beckett’s Waiting for Godot [7]. As with Brecht, Obama believes in the redistribution of income as the central program of the welfare state—although Brecht, who wrote in the service of the East German regime, deposited [8] his substantial profits in West German banks, a rather salient item in the current context. At the same time, there is a sense in which Obama resembles Beckett’s elusive Godot who is eagerly awaited but never actually arrives. He intends to show up later in the day, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, but the promise is never realized. Similarly, Obama doesn’t “show up” in any meaningful acceptation of the phrase, as his tardy response to the BP oil spill makes pretty obvious. But it’s more than that: he just doesn’t seem “there” to meet the major challenges of the time with insight, knowledge, intelligence and courage. Obama also mirrors the character Estragon whose trousers fall to his ankles without him noticing it, a fitting end to the play in which the character’s naked ineffectualness and perpetual dithering is finally exposed.

America is now living under the simulated presidency of an impressive actor for whom all the world’s a stage and all the people in it merely suckers. Displaying the quirkiness and ostentation of the inveterate ham, he soliloquizes in Cairo, postures in Copenhagen, preens in Oslo, orates in Washington, warbles “Hey Jude” [9] with a merry singalong gang in the White House, awarding Paul McCartney the Library of Congress Gershwin Award for Popular Song “on behalf of a grateful nation” while the real, neglected nation groans, looks fetchingly troubled when examining oil slick on the Gulf coast, relishes photo-ops and relies on a teleprompter the way actors depend on the souffleur beneath the planks. As president, he manifests on the one hand the futility and ineptitude of Jimmy Carter taken to the nth degree, in particular with regard to the Iranian threat, and on the other the idiosyncratic behavior of Andrew Jackson—though it must be acknowledged, without Jackson’s native gumption and profoundly held convictions.

Indeed, Obama is a weird bird. To be fair, he does bring a parcel of convictions with him, albeit of a distinctly socialist stamp, which he seems determined to impose on a once-largely unsuspecting public. These convictions, however, seem like a kind of ideological stuffing without which he would fold, buckle and collapse on himself. It is as if he needs to have something controversial, something startling to say in order to convince himself, as well as others, that he exists, and requires a platform on which to exercise his repertoire of roles. An utter prima donna, he is so consumed with his own histrionic self, and his ability to adopt whatever pose the situation demands, that he seems nothing so much as an absence made concrete, a flamboyant nullity inadequate to the problems he confronts, adept only at speeches, monologues and striking gestures. As a result, the time inevitably comes when he begins to look inauthentic and faintly ridiculous, and ultimately as unreal as a typical character in an Absurdist play who faces alarmingly incomprehensible predicaments before which he remains helpless and unbuttoned. Such, of course, is the nature of the genre, as it is of this presidency.

The long and the short of it is that Obama’s tenure in the White House will be remembered as a national aberration, a piece of avant-garde theatre and a surreal installment in the far more serious drama of unforgiving realpolitik. Meanwhile, the umbrella is open wide, the sewing machine keeps humming away and a country is laid out flat on the dissection table.

A Mom Asks: Should We Care What’s Wrong with Obama?

A Mom Asks: Should We Care What’s Wrong with Obama?

By Kyle-Anne Shiver

Robin of Berkeley has provided a great summary of psychological speculation to answer a question now in the minds of some Americans: “What’s wrong with Obama?” 
I suppose a few among us are still asking this question, as though the answer will undo a whit of the damage done. As a full-time mom, with 36 years of experience under my belt and a couple of model American adults now on my resume, I’ve stopped asking that question, however. In fact, from a mom’s point of view, I’m much more prone, at this point, to be asking, “Should we care what’s wrong with Obama?”
From the Dr. Mom perspective, as opposed to the therapist’s paradigm, it’s not hard to surmise that the boy, Barry Obama, was victimized by Murphy’s Law of Character Development. Every single thing that could go wrong in the development of strong and upright character quite obviously did go wrong in Obama’s childhood. To which, I might add, so what? He’s a grown-up now. He ain’t twelve anymore. And he has more than three hundred million real people to whom he owes a good day’s work for a good day’s pay. 
We did not go out and recruit Barack Obama to be our president. We did not find him by searching the country over for the most qualified man for this job. No, it was Barack Obama, owing to a character flaw the size of California — a blaring lack of humility — who put up his own name in contention for the presidency, when he had never held an executive position (not even a paper route, for crying out loud!) of any kind whatsoever, in the public or private sector. In fact, as I’ve said before, Barack Obama had a resume that would fit handily upon the back of a postage stamp, and it was pure, unbridled arrogance that prompted his candidacy. Sure, there were lots of giddy sycophants who egged him on, but at the end of the day, Barack Obama should have known better, should have given far more weight to the responsibility he was assuming. And the fact that he didn’t know any better is owing to his own lack of character, which he has had every possible opportunity to develop in the years since he left home. 
It is Barack Obama, not his momma or his daddy or his grand-momma or his grand-daddy, who has to answer for the job he is doing now that he has secured the position he sought. 
While it is virtually impossible for anyone — other than God — to answer the question, “What’s wrong with Obama?”, it is completely within the realm of human observance to see that no matter where he came from or what kind of parents he had, Barack Obama’s character is nothing short of reprehensible. 
Where he ought to be hardworking and industrious to the nth degree, he shows himself to be lazy. When he ought to be knuckling under, hard at work at his desk, hammering out decent solutions to the vast array of problems before him, he is partying hardy, having a merry ole time, trotting around the globe, playing golf, shooting backyard hoops, and opining on the latest controversial umpire’s call in a baseball game. When it comes to actual governance, the only word this president knows is “delegate.” When he ought to be consumed with fixing a national disaster in federal waters, which occurred in a federally regulated industry, the best he can come up with to even feign an I-do-really-give-a-darn work ethic is an emotionally contrived use of the A-word. 
Oh, please.  This is the kind of lazy, no-account attitude demonstrated by every panhandling bum on any street corner. His GQ dress code notwithstanding, Barack Obama has the work ethic of the welfare moms for whom he has shown his only real empathy to date. In a president, this character deficit is not only pitiful, but it is also downright despicable.
Does President Obama evince bedrock honesty, integrity, and a moral compass with all-American-value bearings? From every possible ordinary-citizen vantage point, Barack Obama appears to possess character deficits — again, the size of California — in every one of these essential-in-a-president qualities. And I’m so sorry for the bad hand Barry Obama was dealt in childhood, but that makes no difference now that he is an adult with the same accountability as every other adult on the planet.      
None of us get to choose our parents. None of us get the perfect childhood to which we all feel somehow entitled. None of us start adult life with all the tools we might wish to have in our little box of life skills. And none of us get to hand over a therapist’s excuse-card when we inevitably meet the Big Guy and must account for how we have used the hand we were dealt and made the most of it on earth. 
None of what happened to the president in childhood, in my opinion, lets Barry off the accountability-hook as an adult. Because in spite of anyone’s claim to the contrary, human beings do have free will; they can and do change all the time. 
For every therapist’s doomsday prediction based on a model that claims some hurdles simply cannot be jumped, there are an infinite number of human beings who somehow do manage to not only jump those horrible-hand-in-life hurdles, but veritably speed to the finish line of life as though it were a walk in the park. History is replete with the inspiring stories of such individuals. We know such people, work with them, sup with them, worship with them. Some of us are those very exceptions to the rule. Many a would-be bum or serial killer or bomb-thrower has become a person of such outstanding character and achievement that it behooves all of us to humble ourselves before the indomitable human spirit. We are endowed by our Creator with abilities so profound that they remain as yet uncharted by modern mankind.
When Robin of Berkeley opines that the president will not change because he is incapable of change, owing to the truly horrible things that probably happened to him in childhood, she is not only ignoring the millions of exceptions to the arbitrary rules of therapists’ expectations, but she is also diverting attention from the very real American calamity of this presidency. 
For the past forty years, America has gotten little more than hippie psychiatry from the mental health profession. The tired old flower-child mantras — “If it feels good, do it,” “Our hope is in dope,” “All the world needs now is love,” and “He just can’t help himself” — simply have not lived up to their cultural hype any more than Barack Obama has lived up to his. Trying to figure out — from a distance, no less — what is wrong with Obama is a fool’s errand. Can the president change himself?  Of course he can. But we certainly cannot change him. The only person I can change is myself; that’s human nature axiom #1. 
On the other hand, we are the parents in this governmental paradigm. We, the voters, hold all the authority under our Constitution. We may not be able to change Obama’s character, but we can certainly hold him accountable for what happens on his watch. We can apply a great deal of parental pressure in the form of public demonstrations, letters, phone calls, and hounding the press for more accountability, and in this fashion, we can provide an incentive for the president to change his behavior. President Obama ought to be getting the message about now that he has fooled far too many for far too long, but that the accountability-buck has now landed squarely in his lap. Barack Obama is now beholden to three hundred million Americans, each of us holding an IOU for diligent service — whether little Barry feels up to the job he took or not.
If Obama voters have any question now, the only one they should be asking is, “What’s the matter with me?” Now, that is a question which lies within the power-province of every single man and woman who pulled the lever for this man. As the crises mount, as the president continues to preen and play, as the livelihoods of more and more Americans go up in economic smoke (or oil, as the case may be), I predict that even many liberals will rediscover their collective common sense and take much greater care the next time they cast a vote. 
No, we’ll never know all that may be wrong with Obama or what caused his stubborn, willful refusal to acquire the strong character denied him in childhood. But I, for one, have begun to ask my Obama-voter acquaintances, even strangers who admit their vote and want to talk about it, “What were you thinking?” Civil confrontation is one of the best tools, available to every one of us, in helping Obama voters to come to grips with the enormity of their decision in the 2008 election.
Upon such idiotic decisions, great civilizations do indeed fall.
And in this Dr. Mom’s opinion, that is the truly consequential lesson of the Obama presidency.
Kyle-Anne Shiver is a frequent contributor to American Thinker. She welcomes your comments at www.kyleanneshiver.com.