Imagine: you’re president of the United States of America, the year is 1820 (that would make you James Madison, but pretend it doesn’t). You’re curious about the presidency of Thomas Jefferson; you’d like to understand him, what makes him tick, how he won and lost favor with pols and the people, what the heck made so many people like and support him. Jefferson, of course, is doddering around Monticello, alive and well and by all accounts lucid at the ripe old age of 77. Do you . . . oh, I don’t know, talk to the former president? Sort of tap into that wealth of knowledge and experience? Or do you . . . um, er, erm, read a book about him?
Before you say, and I wholeheartedly agree, that Bill Clinton is no Thomas Jefferson (and that BO is no James Madison), the point isn’t the comparison of the men but of the bizarreness of reading a book about a living former president, his presidency, his triumphs and defeats, his (whether we like him or not we have to admit to his) astounding political acumen.
Frankly, I’d rather BO holed up in some cellar reading every biography of every president for the next two years, but this is just plain bizarre. The Ideologue in Chief is so out of touch that he’d rather read about someone than meet with him . . . typical. The man, after all, is astoundingly naive, amazingly insulated, and just plain ignorant of all things American, including what is happening in this country right now.