Betting on Obama

There appear to be very few folks in the world of political analysis these days who think Barack Hussein Obama is unelectable.  Michael Ledeen is one, and, for better or worse, I am another.  And because I’m silly enough to put my modest credit card limit where my mouth is, Obama has to lose by 5% in November or I buy steak dinner for four at the restaurant of HUMAN EVENTS’ Editor Jed Babbin’s choice in the Washington DC area.  And I know my pal to be all too comfortable at that place at 1225 Nineteenth Street.  Of course, if I’m right, Jed and the Missus are headed for flyover country to pay up similarly in scenic Indianapolis — there’s a great Steak ‘n Shake just down the street.  But first a word of explanation for my conclusions concerning this most recent incarnation of Elvis/Paul McCartney/Snoop Doggy Dog.

Many have said that to take a negative view of Senator Obama’s campaign is to betray some kind of latent racism .  Nonsense: almost no one would argue that Colin Powell would have trouble winning the presidency.  Nor is it the case that BHO suffers from unfair scrutiny because of his color.  To the contrary, his politics remain shrouded in a cloak of euphemism that is maintained arduously by the mainstream media.  They are positively aghast that the truth about his core beliefs — pure-as-Ivory-soap liberal — will somehow be found out by the electorate before he can baloney his way to 1600.  There are, however, some fundamental reasons for his impending doom as candidate, even if he is able to put that rhetorical stake through Nurse Ratched’s chest before the convention.

First, the guy is patently unqualified for the job.  To paraphrase Indiana’s Governor Mitch Daniels, the guy has yet to open his first lemonade stand; his legislative record is as empty as that of John Kerry, and when he has actually touched an issue in that arena his positions have been so far left that no one could mistake him for anything more than an Illinois clone of Howard Dean.  It will not be long after the mess with Mrs. Clinton is over before folks will begin to see him for the kid that he is.  And black or white, a candidate that looks more like a college kid than a general is not going to be a good sale as commander-in-chief in time of war. 

Second, the Right Reverend Jeremiah Wright is far from gone away.  The guy is a nut and a throw-back to the era of Jackson and Sharpton, his evil diatribes against the nation that has made him a rich man and installed him in a million-dollar pad in a gated community has sent a shockwave through the American political fabric. Obama simply cannot distance himself from his 20+ year close association with all of that.  Again, the word RADICAL: Wright has now tasted the limelight for much longer than 15 minutes, and we can be confident he will continue to spew his venom whether the media wants to report it or not.  Some of us will make sure it gets out, and with the elitist cynicism that Mrs. Obama has demonstrated for all to see, we can be confident that by November all America will have learned that her husband has a core of very strident and radical views that animate and drive him. 

Finally, there will simply be no way for the media to continue enshrouding this radical from the truth of his own views.  The most radical frontline candidate since Eugene McCarthy, the belated second coming of Jimmy Carter, a guy whose world view is right out there with Ward Churchill, that’s our man Obama.  There’s no way that will remain hidden from the electorate as the debate season approaches and the time for vapid chanting comes to an end.  In what for my money has been the only semi-meaningful polling done to date on this whole election, one of the pollsters sought voter reaction on questions of readiness for leadership and fitness as commander-in-chief.  John McCain won both by huge margins, and the Rock Star barely showed up at all.  Almost nobody thinks he’s ready for prime time (liberals just don’t care), and once the echoes of this latest addition of the Paul Wellstone Memorial and rock concert have faded, his juice will be gone — and so will he.

I guess I’d better ask my better half to find a pricier steak house here in Indianapolis.  Babbin isn’t going to get off that easy.