Occasionally, when I walk into in the kitchen unannounced, I’ll find jr. sitting on the counter listening to his i-pod. Butts off the counter, I demand. Who would want to make a sandwich on that counter if they knew you were sliding your butt across it every morning, I explain. Plus, there are 8 pieces of furniture in the kitchen that are specifically designed for butts. They are called chairs, I go on sarcastically as jr.’s eyes roll up toward the ceiling.
So here’s the P-BO with his skinny butt on a historic piece of government property, the Resolute Desk. If the desk were in a museum somewhere and you tried to rest your weary feet by placing them or your ample @$$ on the Resolute Desk’s top surface, you’d probably be arrested. But rules, decorum, common sense and just the ordinary manners mom and dad taught us are for the Bible totting, pick up with a gun rack driving little people not for the arugula eating P-BO.
Here’s a brief description of the Resolute Desk from Wikipiedia. That’s the cite where anyone can post anything about anyone or thing. So you know this has to be accurate:
Many presidents have used a large partners' desk called the Resolute Desk, so named because it was made from the timbers of the British frigate HMS Resolute. The ship was frozen in Arctic ice and abandoned, but later found and freed by American seamen. It was refurbished and presented as a gift from the United States to Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom in 1856. When the British ship was decommissioned in 1879, Queen Victoria ordered twin desks made from its timbers, keeping one and presenting the other as a gift to President Rutherford B. Hayes in 1880.
Back to the picture, look and you’ll find in the frame at least three pieces of furniture specifically designed for butts. None, it seems, are as comfortable for the P-BO as the surface of a 130 year old relic that signifies, what had been until the P-BO arrived, the special relationship between Britain and the United States.
Ahh, Lex you’re nit picking. Well, maybe. But this picture just screams to me, “Look everybody! I’m sitting on the Resolute Desk, what ever that is. I have absolutely no sense of history, or even a reasonable understanding of the decorum expected of a president while in the Oval Office.”
Then there’s the whole, the White House is the people’s house, thing. Who walks into someone else’s house and plops their butt on their host’s desk?
Last, is there a dress code in the White House? Check out the guy in the jeans and open collar. Now maybe he was called in from vacation during an emergency. But I rather suspect that if there is a dress code, it’s probably a pretty lax one with this bunch. I can imagine aides wondering the halls in tank tops, baggy shorts, flip flops and light coat of oil exchanging hey dudes as they pass one another during the summer months.
So yeah, the country is going off a cliff at 100 miles per hour and I’m interested in this picture. Why? Well this picture tells me a bit of why the country is headed over a cliff at 100 miles per hour. If the P-BO doesn’t even understand the history of the Oval Office, he probably doesn’t understand economics either.