It was stagecraft. There was Barack Obama looking you straight in the eye, in long-sleeve shirt and tie, and sitting on the Resolute desk (hiding his shoe marks). He appeared ready for work. His handlers probably wanted his shirt sleeves rolled up, but Vladimir Putin has copyrighted showing that much skin. The scene was too workmanlike and, therefore, too un-Obama-like. Michelle should have been standing next to him in a black gown with a pyramid of three champagne glasses balanced on her butt. Just to show Kim Kardashian that two can play that game. And only two.
I don't have the foggiest idea what Obama said except I do know what he was saying. He was saying tomorrow night at 8 PM we officially become a banana republic. Dictatorship through executive fiat takes precedence over the US constitution.
Obama didn't hear the one-third of the electorate that voted November 4th, but he claims he heard the two-thirds that didn't vote. Obama can hear college students crying about rising sea levels as the snows threaten to cover their chinny chin chins. He can hear his daughters and change his mind about gay marriage. But he didn't hear or feel the earthquake that swallowed some of his Democrat sycophants. How did his daughters get through to him? Kick him in the nuts? Put his putter in the freezer?
Some moron once said "Life is like a box of chocolates", and it wasn't Forrest Gump. It was Tom Hanks who gave Al Franken the maximum legal contribution in Franken's first senatorial run, even though Franken was running in Minnesota and Hanks probably couldn't find Minnesota on a map. Hanks finds it OK to mess in other states' politics while ridiculing his own state's voters exercising their right to vote.
America is like a box of chocolate-covered cherries. Progressives, like Obama, have finally licked off all the chocolate and all that's left is a bunch of goo and hollowed-out cherries, and the only pit in sight is the one to Hell.
