In which our intrepid hero gets his wires crossed.

Personally, I blame Adam. If he hadn’t gotten me thinking about Roland Emmerich the other day—Emmerich being slated to direct the film adaptation of Asimov’s Foundation series—then I wouldn’t have this bizarre mashup going through my head.

If I think too hard about it, I get this Blake-esque vision of Bill Pullman in blackface, before cheering crowds:

We’re going to live on! We’re going to survive! Today we celebrate our Inauguration Day!

Meanwhile, a row of backup dancers, in Bob the Builder drag, shimmy to Can we fix it? Yes we can! And the backdrop to the stage looks something like this:


Dubya might not have been the worst President in US history—everyone seems to pin that dubious honour on Harding, even though the latter only served half a term—but as a citizen of one of the American Empire’s farther-flung colonies, I’m glad that King George II has finally abdicated. We, in the Free World, can get on with life and start rebuilding now.

I don’t know if Obama is all he’s cracked up to be, but at least he’s something new and different, and can stir up enough hope to initiate some sort of a break from the last eight years of graft, cronyism and incompetence.

In the interim, the GOP can lick its wounds and find its centre again. It can clear out the nutters and the neocons, the kleptomaniacs and kakistocrats. In time, it can don the mantle of Abe, Teddy and Ike once more—and wear it with pride.

Don’t let the door hit your arse on the way out, George.

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