"It profits me but little that a vigilant authority always protects the tranquillity of my pleasures and constantly averts all dangers from my path, without my care or concern, if this same authority is the absolute master of my liberty and my life."

--Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Take This With a Grain of Salt

There is an anonymous blogger named Ulsterman, who has, over the past couple of years, published "transcripts" of his conversations with a supposed White House "insider," who is also anonymous.   The conversations ring true, but they could be simply the truth of good and intelligent fiction, much like the dialogue of a Hemingway or a Tolstoy rings true, in that it tells us some truth about the world we live in.   For these reasons, they must be read with a big grain of salt.   That being said, his most recent posting is chilling (again, possibly in the way that a horror movie is chilling):


President Obama, when he is in his de facto office upstairs – the one that is closer to Jarrett’s own office, and a short hop over to the residence, he spends his time there often in shorts, or sweats, a t-shirt, and those sandal things…flip-flops.  There is a large screen television in there and that’s where hours of his time are spent when he is actually at the White House. Day in and day out.  The First Lady rules the residence, and the president heads over to his 2nd floor West Wing study.  Starting around last spring, he started to take regular briefings in there.  And the instructions that went out on those briefings to the president were that they were to be most importantly – brief.  Anything more than about 15 minutes is unacceptable to Obama.  So let’s look through the eyes of someone heading into Barack Obama’s upstairs office at the White House to give him a briefing.  Maybe it’s on national security.  Maybe the economy.  Energy policy. Whatever – doesn’t matter.  The scenario being played out these days is pretty much the same regardless of the particulars.  You knock on the door – it’s always closed.  Always.  Often you have to knock for some time before being given approval from inside to enter.  The big screen will be on – the volume loud.  You can easily hear it from outside the door.  The sports channels are the ones most commonly playing, though sometimes the channel will be set to music, or Fox News.  Sometimes Valerie Jarrett might be there, but most often it is just the president and his personal aide.  A large leather chair will be facing the television – it’s well worn.  Not part of the White House furnishings but something the president must have brought in from back home.  That’s where you’ll most often find the President of the United States – the most powerful man in the free fucking world.  He often sits with one leg draped over one of the chair’s arms and the other leg stuck straight onto the floor.  Shorts, sweats, a t-shirt, and like I said, no shoes or just those sandal things that so many of the younger people like to wear these days.  And that leg that’s draped over an arm of the chair will be bopping up and down, like…like someone with  a lot of nervous energy.  Like a kid does.  And there’s the smell of smoke hanging on the president.  The guy never quite smoking – that was all bullshit.  I told you that already.  In fact, there’s one of those smokeless ash trays on the desk in there.  And that desk, it’s a mess.  Magazines spread out all over it.  Stupid shit too.  Real low brow reading material the president is into.  People.  Rolling Stone.  Lots of those tabloid things.  The most common thread with this shit is it’s about the president.  If it’s about him, he’s gonna read it.  Good or bad – doesn’t matter.  If somebody is talking about him, he’s reading it.  He’s watching it.  Whatever.  The guy’s self-obsession is off the fucking charts. 

So that’s what you first see when you enter the room – the upstairs office of President Obama.  Next you’re gonna notice how small the guy looks.  Really thin.  He pads his suits up you know.  The top end.  The shoulders.  It became an actual issue during the 2008 campaign – some of his handlers were saying it made his neck look too small.  Fact is, it made his neck look just like it is – small.  The guy is scrawny.  All knees and elbows sitting in that chair.  Sometimes he gets up when you come in, sometimes he remains seated and will just turn the volume on the TV down with the remote and say, “What you got?”  That foot is bouncing up and down while you give him the briefing, but he rarely looks over at you – always looking at whatever is on the television.  If it’s Jarrett in the room, or the personal assistant, one of them is there to keep the time.  Your time.  Don’t go over that fifteen minutes.  And even if the president doesn’t look like he hears a word you’re saying, they are listening to everything.  Every goddamn syllable coming out of your mouth, and if something is said they don’t like, they jot down notes.  Been told it’s to use for the end of day summary they give the president – their own version of what is important and what can be ignored…and who might need to be pushed down, or pushed out…or whatever.  So you’re looking at the president, this skinny guy, who’s ignoring you, who’s dressed like some kind of fucking frat boy wannabe, with somebody else taking notes on what you’re saying, and then you get up and walk out.  The president might acknowledge you on some days, give a little nod, maybe even a thank you, but most often he just continues to look at the TV, bounce that foot on the chair, his skin looking off-color, pale, the eyes out of focus, the hair a helleva lot more gray than is shown in public, the wrinkles around the mouth far deeper…and the hands.  His fucking hands are so…they are just these thin little stick digits.  They are like these long-fingered woman’s hands.  And his wrists, you could wrap your own fingers all the way around those wrists – again, so much like a woman’s hands.  Almost freakish.  Certainly not the strong alpha-male type image that America was given during the 2008 campaign.

That’s who you see in the room – the real Barack Obama.  Pretty fucking unsettling.  Those world leaders, they sensed this.  They saw through the fa├žade and saw who was running the United States of America, and the word went out – “Don’t count on this American president  – he doesn’t have a fucking clue.”  And they’re right.




Again, take this with a grain of salt.   Just because it has the density of detail of truth -- and it does -- doesn't make it so.   But still... chilling.

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