Big Guy promised no celebrating until after the Senate passed the House “fixes” to his big historic Obamacare bill. What he meant was no public celebrating. Because the catering vans started arriving first thing this morning, and I haven’t seen this much caviar, foie gras and bubbly around here since Bill beat that impeachment rap.
And although BG says “This isn’t about me” every chance he gets, just between you and me: it’s about him. I can tell, since –as you know - I’m no ordinary mirror. In addition to my high quality reflective abilities, I’m also a precision NASA designed digital reimaging system, upgraded with the latest transformative software. So I see things that others don’t; specifically, I see what people THINK they see when they gaze at themselves in my reflection.
For example, do you remember the dress Lady M wore to the Nobel Peace Prize Prom? The lovely ice queen gown by Azzedine Alaia?
This isn’t exactly what MO saw when she gazed into my looking glass. She saw her reflection as imagined by the designer - on Nicole Kidman:
What once was white is transformed to black, what once was long is transformed to short, what once hugged curvy body parts wrapped in heavy-duty Lycra now glides over a svelte body of perfect proportion. Dr. Sanity calls this sort of transformation denial, first cousin of delusion.
Here at Big White, we just call it “Obama Magic.”
Dr. Sanity calls this kind of reflection narcissism: no matter where he looks, Big Guy sees himself. So the bottom line is, whenever Big Guy says “It’s not about me,” it’s really all about him. If you get that part, you’ve pretty much got all there is to get.
So, we’ll be keeping the celebration low-key tonight. Just a few of our closest Chicago-Way friends and enforcers, who have proved once again that there is no vote that can’t be bought if the price is right. Because Big Guy’s the President. He’s too big to fail. Failure is for little people.
h/t for Teleprompter Barry via Gerard @ American Digest