Yes, I voted for Barack Obama. Joyfully. I cried at his acceptance speech. And yes, I enjoy listening to his sound-bytes on the radio, which tend to come out in full sentences, in appropriate verb forms and tenses. Yes, he looks damn good in a suit. But worthy of the Nobel Peace Prize?
Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
Poor Jimmy Carter, who had to serve a full term, then actually do something after his presidency, in order to win the award. Poor everyone else who was nominated, too–people who had to do more than get themselves elected against a ticket that included Sarah Palin. Not the hardest task on planet earth, people.
Sending Bill instead of Hillary to North Korea was a smart move. Our president has made a lot of smart (slick) moves. So far, though, the only real example of genuine diplomacy I’ve seen Mr. Obama display is calming down Henry Gates with a beer. I hate to think that Alfred Nobel’s selecting committee considers the president’s potential–as conveyed by a marketing campaign–worthy of their award. But that’s exactly what they seem to be saying.
Now our pathetic, persuasive American ad campaigns are even effective at nabbing a Nobel? It’s a sad, sad world we live in, when nouveau celebrities like Mr. Obama start sweeping the Nobel prizes like a glorified popularity contest.
At least the literature award is still safe. I feel comfortable knowing that I have never heard of the recipient, and will never read her work. That means there are larger things out there in the world than lil ole me and my populist (call it trashy) taste.
Please–reserve me a copy of that Levi Johnston Playgirl. And hand me a chalice full of hemlock if Dan Brown ever gets the Oslo treatment.
