The saving grace of Big Media’s excruciating blow-by-blow coverage of the stand-off with LAPD officer and Navy veteran Christopher Jordan Dorner is that it made the network nits forget about their date with Barack Obama.
That Obama’s fourth State of the Union extravaganza promises to be excruciatingly boring we already know. One other thing known about this SOTU—also the secret to his success—is that, as measured by the Flesch-Kincaid readability test, and “for the [fourth] straight address, the President’s State of the Union message will be written at an eighth-grade level.”
A “Stalinesque extravaganza” that ought to offend “anyone of a republican (small ‘r’) sensibility” is how National Review’s John Derbyshire has described the annual State of the Union address. “American politics frequently throws up disgusting spectacles. It throws up one most years in January: the State of the Union speech,” writes Derbyshire in “We Are Doomed: Reclaiming Conservative Pessimism,” in which John (he’s a friend) goes on to detail how “the great man” is announced, how he makes an entrance; the way “the legislators jostle to catch his eye” and receive his favor. (This year, the most repulsive among the representatives staked out aisle seats for themselves, starting early in the morning.)
“On the podium at last, the president offers up preposterously grandiose assurances of protection, provision, and moral guidance from his government, these declarations of benevolent omnipotence punctuated by standing ovations and cheers from legislators” (p. 45). The president of the USA is now “pontiff, in touch with Divinity, to be addressed like the Almighty.”
The razzmatazz includes a display of “Lenny Skutniks” in the royal box. These are “model citizens chosen in order to represent some quality the president will call on us to admire and emulate.” Last year it was the family of the girl who was murdered by the Tucson shooter. This year’s “Lenny Skutnik” was Debbie Bosanek, Warren Buffett’s secretary. Bosanek is supposed to embody the Barf(fett) Rule, described by the Divine One thus: “If you make more than a million dollars a year, you should not pay less than 30 percent in taxes.”
More about this monarchical, contrived tradition in “Barry Soetoro Frankenstein: Spawn of the State.”
Here’s MSNBC’s “coverage” of Il Duce’s address.