Protecting the Brand? No Thanks.

I loved Barak Obama, until I didn’t.

The month after his election was a kind of political fantasyland. I hugged everyone I saw, and kissed a few of them. I laughed. I cried. I went a little crazy. The difficult, fractious country of my birth, contaminated at its point of origin by slavery and prone to eruptions of violent racism, had actually elected its first black president.

Not only that, but it was a kind of blowout, fueled by the votes of working class white folk who were suddenly willing to give a black man a chance. The 2012 election was not a squeaker, but a respectable showing by a masterful campaigner. Obama won by by just under 5 million votes. Donald Trump should live so long.

I loved everything about him: his wife and children, his dog. Especially that dog, researched to a fare-thee-well, so that his kids would not suffer from a new set of allergies. Ever since that time, I’ve wanted a Portuguese Water Dog. Why didn’t Joe Biden give one to our family? When somebody framed an extra “Obama Wins” front page, I greedily accepted it and hung it on the wall. The only thing I didn’t like was that the new president smoked. But I figured that Michelle would beat it out of him (she did).

But then, inevitably, the bloom came off the rose. The elegant Obama, walking the sands of Hawaii, lost his hold on my political imagination. You could get him out of the house for the big signature events, but he seemed strongly averse to toughing it out with his adversaries. If I have to choose between a philosopher king and a political scrapper who delivers universal health care, I’ll take the scrapper every time.

More persons without documents were deported during his tenure than in any of the presidencies before or after him, including the tenures of Sauron and Voldermort (so far). He made the fatal mistake of political timidity, figuring that McConnel and Co. would tack to the middle, charmed by his evident, willing moderation. I say blow whatever political capital you have and accept the consequence of your inevitable defeat.

On top of that, he did very little for those around him. He campaigned a little for Hillary at the end, but not in a slogging, heartfelt way. That was after he broke Joe Biden’s heart. He was especially bad at midterm elections. I kept looking for his appearances with down-ballot candidates, but they were unicorn events without lasting value. Political historians can correct me if I’m wrong, but if I didn’t see it, it didn’t happen.

That was especially true in the last election and its aftermath. There was that big summer show in Chicago for Kamala, but the kind of relentless, in-the-dirt, barking persuasion? Barak and Michelle pretty much disappeared. In her role as official Keeper of the Flame, Valerie Jarett had it right from the start: the big issue for Obama is to protect the brand. Cool cats never like to break a sweat.

Now, of course, the situation is far worse. Kamala lost and Sauron won. We have arrived at the shredding of the American state by a deviant child fueled by arrogance and stupidity. Our former president should be on the screen every Sunday, offering his critical take on Donald Trump. We should be hearing from him on tarrifs and the stock market, the resuscitation of the Democrats, and the likelihood of rececession. We should hear his calming voice on every issue before us as a reminder that we do not have to be led by a madman. I know that this is not a parliamentary democracy where defeated candidates have an official role in our affairs, but this is a freaking five-alarm fire. If Barak doesn’t do it, who the hell will?

He does, of course, communicate on some things. My dear friend, David, recently pointed out that he apologized to the family for “ruining” their vacation photos by entering the frame at exactly the wrong/right moment. Apology accepted, but he has got to do better. David knows a lot about politics and optics. His summary judgment: “Kinda gross.”