More of the Same

David Brooks has an interesting theory about why Obama isn’t kicking McCain’s ass from here until next Sunday in the polls.

When we’re judging candidates (or friends), we don’t just judge the individuals but the milieus that produced them. We judge them by the connections that exist beyond choice and the ground where they will go home to be laid to rest. Andrew Jackson was a backwoodsman. John Kennedy had his clan. Ronald Reagan was forever associated with the small-town virtues of Dixon and Jimmy Carter with Plains.

It is hard to plant Obama. Both he and his opponent have written coming-of-age tales about their fathers, but they are different in important ways. McCain’s “Faith of My Fathers” is a story of a prodigal son. It is about an immature boy who suffers and discovers his place in the long line of warriors that produced him. Obama’s “Dreams From My Father” is a journey forward, about a man who took the disparate parts of his past and constructed an identity of his own.

While it may be “hard to plant” Obama, it ain’t hard to look at his colleagues, his campaign advisors, his past associations/influences, and draw suitable conclusions about who the man is and how he’d govern, if elected. Ah, but there’s the rub… most people, if one believes our illustrious media… simply don’t do their homework. Mention Alinsky and/or Ayers to your “average” Obama supporter (which eliminates the Firedog Lake and dKos crowds) and you might get a blank look, followed by a “hunh?” If you’re lucky. OTOH, there are twits like this:

What Brooks fails to understand in his oversimplified Freudian assessment of Obama's psyche is something truly monumental, heretofore not seen in American politics: the very likelihood that Sen. Barack Obama will make history as the first black president of The United States of America. Given that black men were still being lynched and beaten just 45 or so years ago simply for being black, this accomplishment not only is historic and electric, but it carries with it an unfathomable amount of pressure and stress. Yes, Barack Obama is an agent of change. He is a light, a force, a movement.

Yep. Screw credentials, never mind the thin resume, and let’s just not talk about silly, wrong-headed re-distributive economic policies. What we really need is an agent of change, a light, a force…a movement. Haven’t we heard this sort of krep before? Why, yes… yes, I believe we have. And it was just as dumb and ignorant-sounding then as it is now.

Interesting times.

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And then there’s yet another reason I’ll vote for McCain:

“As you may know,” he told the tens of thousands gathered at the 68th annual Sturgis Rally at Buffalo Chip campground, “not long ago, a couple of hundred thousand Berliners made a lot of noise for my opponent. I’ll take the roar of fifty thousand Harleys any day.”

Bikers in the crowd, who had arrived from around the country to partake in the massive outdoor party, revved their engines numerous times in support of the presumptive GOP nominee. McCain said it was music to his ears.

“This is my first time here,” he said, “but I recognize that sound. It’s the sound of freedom.”

[…]

If there were any Obama supporters to be found in the vast Buffalo Chip campground, they kept quiet.

Indeed, McCain felt so comfortable at the event that he even volunteered his wife for the rally’s traditional beauty pageant, an infamously debauched event that’s been known to feature topless women.

“I encouraged Cindy to compete,” McCain said to cheers. “I told her with a little luck she could be the only woman ever to serve as first lady and Miss Buffalo Chip.”

John McCain: The Biker’s Candidate! I can be just as superficial… or more so… as the next guy, ya know.

(Photo credit: Peter Hamby/CNN)

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Today’s Pics: When times are slow (read as: no new photos at hand) I always resort to baby pictures… which are just as good as cat or puppy pics. Better, even. Here are three such (they're not re-runs, either), and doubtless you have several shots exactly like these… assuming you’re a parent. And if you’re not a parent? Well, suck it up. I’ll have more scenery, sunsets, mo-sickle pics, and/or what-not as soon as it cools down a bit and my motivation returns.

Perinton, NY. April, 1998.