“What should I say?”
One could easily imagine the simple question emanating from America’s often confused and bewildered chief executive, senile Joe Biden, upon being informed that his job duties include, from time to time, making a jaunt to Capitol Hill to “… give to the Congress Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient.” Such occasion is slated for tomorrow night.
Every president knows he has to do it; the only mystery being what to put into the speech. Each February (or March) it seems there’s some new and vexing “crisis” that the current Oval Office occupant needs to discuss with members of Congress and the national TV viewing audience, and this year is certainly no different. In fact, there’s arguably more to talk about now than at any time in the recent past, since Biden and the Democrats in Congress have fashioned a real mess in what used to be thought of as the Land of the Free. To name a few proverbial fires raging out of control, there’s runaway inflation eating away at family budgets and savings portfolios, millions of unknown aliens ignoring immigration law and crossing the border illegally; a foreign policy nightmare in Eastern Europe, the Middle East and East Asia, and rampant crime and violence on America’s streets. What will the president do to help, or more likely, make things worse?
Senile Joe is undoubtedly receiving all sorts of pointers from friends and adversaries alike as to what to add into his speech text. Even Democrats are demanding that he say something about how expensive things have gotten since he’s been in the White House. It’s effecting people’s lives. Tim Hains reported at Real Clear Politics last week:
“Former DNC Chair Donna Brazile had some advice for President Biden ahead of the State Of The Union speech [this] week:
“Well, first of all, tone matters. And I think what the president should do is talk to the American people, just like you and I are sitting here talking. You and I have had, you know, we've broken bread. Talk to the American people. They want to know about the challenges that we're facing. They want to hear what he's doing. I mean, inflation is robbing us of our joys, stealing our hard-earned wages. I can't go to the grocery store without complaining about the price of eggs and bacon. I mean a pound of bacon is almost $9. Jesus. I mean, that's no more me and bacon. I never thought I would give it up.
“But the point is, is that he has to talk about Covid. Yes, we're tired of Covid, but Covid is not tired of us. He has to talk about crime. We don't want to, you know, have a country that people are running around with guns. But at the same time, the president can also tell us what he's doing, what has been accomplished, and the work that he needs to get done over the next couple of years.”
The last aspect of Brazile’s recommendations probably will receive the bulk of Biden’s attention tomorrow night since the man loves droning on about himself and all the things he and his band of leftist kooks, race hustlers and political outcasts have done to America. Behind closed doors, they probably start every meeting with high fives and a fresh round of backslaps over the fast one they pulled on the country in the 2020 election.
Realizing, based on polls, that their days at the helm of power may be numbered, they’re taking turns etching “Joe Biden was here” on the bottom of the Oval Office’s Resolute desk when the Secret Service detail is looking the other way. But even someone as dense as senile Joe Biden must acknowledge he needs to do something special in his SOTU speech this year to try and get his rapidly descending presidency back on track. Maybe if he were a better speaker and/or he added a little passion to his delivery… would that do it? Perhaps it’s time to bring in the ultimate oratory coach. Could “The Voice of the American Revolution”, Patrick Henry, provide the magic tips? We can only speculate:
--One recent night in the Oval Office, President senile Joe Biden sat at his desk staring into space, a ritual he’d perfected over his five decades in Washington to calm and relax him while begging the sandman for another ten-hour sleep night before having to rise and do it all over again tomorrow.
Biden is alone in the large corner-less room, Jen Psaki having just said her goodnights while delivering the geezer’s daily quota of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk to get her boss in the correct frame of mind prior to switching off his desk lamp and stumbling upstairs to the family quarters like he did after each pathetic failure of a day.
Only this night, senile Joe sat, unable to move from his comfortable perch. The president was worried about his State of the Union Speech. Knowing that he needed a good one -- the best of his life -- this year, Biden couldn’t help but fret over his lack of substance and talent for rousing a crowd. For 49 years he’d faked it, he thought, and made a political career out of smiling a lot, butchering words and sniffing as many hairdos as he could possibly get his sniffer depressed against. But now? People were actually going to be listening to what he had to say, as though it mattered? It terrified him.
“I’ve really done it now,” Joe muttered out loud to the empty room, the TV having been shut off and only the whirring sound of the White House HVAC system punctuating the silence. “I need someone from heaven to get down here, pronto, and teach me how to speak in front of people. Squeezing kids on the shoulder and massaging babes on their necks won’t do it this time. Help me, oh lord, help me.”
Right then a spirit entered the chamber, drifting through a solid oak door as though it weren’t even there. Like other ghosts that visited Biden in the past year or so, this one was adorned in colonial-style garb and hair worn stylishly like a Founding Father’s would’ve been in a formal setting. Biden didn’t immediately recognize the specter, not recalling the face from the picture book of presidents he was given to study during his wait to be inaugurated the previous January. “Who -- or what -- are you, and why have you come to haunt me?” Joe mumbled sorrowfully, spitting out the words. He continued, “I’m getting tired of these eerie visitations. It makes me dread every Christmas, you know? Then George Washington and Thomas Jefferson and James Madison came to bother me, like it was something I should get used to seeing. Now you’re here, and I don’t even know you. How can I help you?” Joe said, feigning only semi-annoyance at the intrusion.
In a strong and booming voice that some might swear could be heard from a building away, the spirit answered, “I am Patrick Henry, Joe. Someone in the otherworld mentioned that you needed comfort on public speaking. I was the best orator of mine or any man’s generation. I spoke for hours without notes. I commanded any room I was in. I convinced my fellow Virginians and the rest of the colonies to rebel against the king. If I could do all that, maybe I can teach a simpleton like you how to communicate and advocate for liberty in your time.”
Biden scoffed at the last offer. He wasn’t the least bit interested in extolling the virtues of freedom and self-determination. But he was totally into the concept of commanding the room. “Yes to the first part, no to the second, bub. Stick to teaching me about speaking and you’re cool, man.” “Very well,” Henry replied, not thoroughly convinced that even he could turn this goofy unimpressive-looking man into a commanding presence. “I’ll do what I can, Joe. But I’ve only got a couple minutes to fix you. They need to send me to another up-and-comer, someone with talent like Ted Cruz or Donald Trump, not a broken-down has-been old goat like you.” Henry went on confidently, “First, whenever you’re speaking to an audience, get their attention. Be strong and sensible in your language and appeal to their emotions. Don’t mince words. Say what you mean and mean what you say. “My most famous speech involved all of those qualities, Joe. I said: ‘Gentlemen may cry, ‘Peace, Peace,’ but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? ... Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!’” Henry mimicked the tearing of chains from his body and then the thrusting of a dagger into his chest for added effect. Even from two hundred and forty-something years away you could tell it must’ve been impressive when he’d done it for the first time.
Upon hearing the last line, Biden looked puzzled. “So, YOU are the guy that said that ‘liberty or death’ thing? I thought I’d heard it before. I never knew who said it, though. I’d always guessed it was Al Sharpton or Jesse Jackson or John Lewis doing the talking -- you know, the slavery fixation with those racial jungle guys -- or maybe my bosom pal and political soulmate, The Big O, made it up? Or Hillary Clinton?
“Besides, I can’t say something like that, bud. If I mentioned death or standing up for myself and the country, people might take me literally. No one’s gonna give me any liberty, so they might very well give me the other alternative… well, you know.” Henry rolled his eyes, which isn’t easy for a spirit to do. This was going to be harder than he figured. “I was a self-taught man, Joe. I tried and failed at a number of things before reaching the pinnacle of success. Then I studied law on my own. Wherever I went, I took my gift for speaking with me. You’ve got to be able to encapsulate your argument as a lawyer, but you’ve also got to keep citizens’ attention. The people are in charge, so you can always say something like this: ‘The Constitution is not an instrument for the government to restrain the people, it is an instrument for the people to restrain the government - lest it come to dominate our lives and interests.”
Biden was agitated now. He wanted someone to give him plain wrap speaking hints, not lecture him on making people happy. “Pat… can I call you Pat? Anyway, the Constitution needs to take a backseat to the dudes and dudettes in charge at all times. What the heck do ordinary people know about anything? Take COVID as an example. I have to mandate that everyone get the vaccines because they’re too stubborn or too stupid to do it on their own. It’s the only way everyone gets to live, bro.” Henry looked back at senile Joe as though he was staring at an empty skull devoid of brain matter.
“So I gotta tell people to do it. And when they protest, I’ll lock ‘em up just like my pal Trudeau did up there in Canada. When they’re not out sipping Moosehead all night, those French Canucks are pretty sharp across the northern border. There’s a lesson there. Recognize your place, deplorables. We know more than the people. The Constitution absolutely must be used to control the people, and if the government dominates lives and interests -- that’s a good thing.”
Henry stared at the floor and considered leaving early. This man was hopeless. “By the way, put on a mask,” Joe commanded. “I don’t care if your flesh is decomposing. It doesn’t look like you’ve brushed your teeth in like a hundred years, either.”
Henry Ghost clearly didn’t take to what he was hearing. It was almost time to go back to eternity with the knowledge that this babbling idiot buffoon couldn’t be helped. “I’ve got only one more tip for you, Joe. Tell the truth and don’t hide anything from the people: ‘The liberties of a people never were, nor ever will be, secure when the transactions of their rulers may be concealed from them.’”
“You mean, tell the schleps about the stuff you’re doing to them?” Joe replied, incredulous to the notion. “If I had to compile a State of the Union speech with that type of flim-flam, it’d be awfully short, since most of what we do is hidden from the public. Remember when Nancy Pelosi said about Obamacare -- ‘We have to pass the bill to see what’s in it?’ That’s exactly what we did with the COVID bill and the infrastructure thing.
“If people knew what was in those thousand-plus pages of boring legalistic psychobabble, they’d never go for it. So we don’t tell them nothing, pal. Ever! Let them eat cake! What they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em, I always say.
“So, I’m gonna ignore everything you told me and just go out there and tell ‘em a few jokes and talk about how great I am, then wink a bunch of times at Kamala n’ Nancy P. seated behind me and the American voters will love it. I don’t need no advice from you, chum. Go back to the moon or Jupiter or wherever you came from and leave me alone!
“Enough with the ghosts! Get thee gone!”
With that, the ghost of Patrick Henry willingly fled the space and time, leaving senile Joe shaking with rage and wondering why he, the president, would need anyone’s advice in the first place. Biden got up from his desk and headed towards the kitchen, intent on snatching more cookies from the locked cupboard that only he had a key for. And more milk, too.
Biden suddenly felt a stomachache coming on.
--By now senile president Joe Biden knows what he’s going to say at the State of the Union address tomorrow night. It’s what he’s not going to mention -- anything amounting to humility, contrition or a straight statement of the facts -- that will cause his speech to fail. Even a classic speaker like Patrick Henry couldn’t help Joe Biden. Unfortunately, we’re stuck with him.
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