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AP: Sun Beams As Obama Starts His Job

From an elated Associated Press:

The morning sunrise beams by the White House as President Barack Obama starts his first [sic] on the job, Wednesday, Jan. 21, 2009, in Washington.

Notice that the folks at the Associated Press were so giddy they couldn’t even get their caption right.

But what media bias?

Weren’t there were pictures like this for Mr. Bush’s first day in office?

By the way:

This is what the Washington Mall looked like after Mr. Obama finished his soul-stirring speech on "responsibility."

This article was posted by Steve Gilbert on Wednesday, January 21st, 2009. Comments are currently closed.

15 Responses to “AP: Sun Beams As Obama Starts His Job”

  1. Colonel1961

    Wow, sounds like the AP is getting that tingly-feeling, too!

  2. Confucius

    Sunlight is a good disinfectant.

  3. gipper

    The media is smitten with Obama. I don’t know why, but when I saw this picture I immediately thought of the old hymn/Cat Stevens song.

    Morning has broken, like the first morning,
    Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.
    Praise for the singing, praise for the morning,
    Praise for them springing fresh from the world.

    Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from heaven,
    Like the first dewfall, on the first grass.
    Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden,
    Sprung in completeness where his feet pass.

    Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning,
    Born of the one light, Eden saw play.
    Praise with elation, praise every morning,
    God’s recreation of the new day.

  4. GetBackJack

    In his last public appearance at a political gathering, the Eleventh Congress of the RCP(B), Lenin warned that the state machine was escaping from the control of the Communists: “The machine refuses to obey the hand that guides it. It is like a car that is not responding to the steering, but going in the direction someone else desires as if it were being driven by a mysterious, lawless hand – God knows whose. The car is not going in the direction the man at the wheel imagines. It goes in an altogether different direction.”

    Regardless of what America is, who we are and how clearly this is defined in every organic founding document, despite 20 years of Rush Limbaugh, Goldwater and every Conservative pundit, despite every evidence since WWII that humanist socialism Does Not Work and is Corruption Writ Large …. our national ship continues to be steered onto a course we abhor and which guarantees our national ruin.

    When even Lenin experiences this phenomenon on the other end of the spectrum as we are today we need the most exhausting and serious research into what’s happening.

    No matter who is “steering”, our national ship is on a heading none of us can tolerate. Or, apparently, prevent.

    • JohnMG

      Grand Funk RailRoad made a song that describes this phenomenon.

      “Don’t take my ship away from me.” Are we living this now?

      Am I in my cabin dreaming
      Or are you really scheming
      To take my ship away from me
      You’d better think about it
      I just can’t live without it
      So please don’t take my ship from me
      Yeah, yeah, yeah

  5. artboyusa

    THE CONSERVATIVE! A story torn from tomorrow’s headlines, the action drenched drama of a man trapped in a world he never made, one man alone against the awful might of Obama’s America – The Conservative!

    Chapter One: “Enemy of da State”!

    “You…lousy…scum…why…are…you…so…filled…with…HATE?” grunted the Interrogator, punctuating each word with a savage kick to the bound and shuddering Conservative. “When…will…you…learn…to…LOVE?”

    A last admonitory kick in the nuts and he was gone, leaving the Conservative sprawled and gasping like a gaffed fish on the cold floor of his cell.

    Outside, dust, driven by the fierce, hot wind swirled across the parade ground and between the rows of barracks here at Camp Tookie Williams Federal Containment Facility (“Fixing Conservatives Since 2009”) in the arid desert of Nevada.

    As breath slowly returned to his aching lungs the Conservative’s mind drifted back to the day his life had changed forever. It had seemed like just another Tuesday morning…

    He was in his slippers and sensible pajamas, sitting at the kitchen table. The TV had live coverage of Secretary of Peace William Ayres being sworn in; there he was, the little runt, arm raised and fist clenched, standing on the flag…

    The Conservative turned it off and put on the radio. Oh crud: they were playing the jaunty new song that had replaced the old jingoistic, America-centric and militaristic national anthem:

    “Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows,
    Everything that’s wonderful is what I feel when we’re together…
    My life is sunshine, lollipops and rainbows,
    That’s how this refrain goes, so come on, join in everybody!”

    Lesley Gore chirped away and the Conservative winced. He didn’t feel like joining in. Still, at least it was better than the version of “My Cun-Tree t’is Ob Dee” Urethra Franklin did at the Inauguration.

    He scanned the front page of the Daily Obama, the new national paper (“All the News that makes Us Feel Good”) to see what had been happening in the world:

    “Obama says US should be more like ancient Carthage. Orders salt stockpiles”

    “Jury Mulls Palin Verdict”

    “Obama fingers Hillary for Top Court seat”

    The Conservative sighed and slowly got dressed. He hated going out nowadays; it felt like everyone was looking at him, as though they could read his thoughts. They knew he wasn’t one of them, they knew he was…different.

    Sometimes he wished he could be like all the others, so happy and filled with hope. Darn this brain of mine, he thought, with its ability to reach critical conclusions based upon evidence. Darn it to heck!

    Hey, easy on the sailor talk Maynard, he scolded himself. C’mon, let’s go get some breakfast.

    With raised collar the Conservative slunk along the sidewalks of Barack City (formerly “Chicago”), keeping close to the buildings and avoiding eye contact with the smiling, hopeful throngs of passersby. He pushed through the door of the restaurant and slid into a booth.

    The Conservative scanned down the laminated menu card, with its colourful illustrations, so helpful to those who couldn’t imagine what “toast” or “bacon and eggs” looked like, and it’s Spanish language text. He sighed.

    Look at that, he thought: “Penqueques”. That’s not even a word in Spanish, let alone English. You might imagine that if you went to all the trouble of smuggling yourself up here, learning how to say “pancakes” wouldn’t be such a big deal but I guess for some people it is.

    “Hi! Welcome to El Casa Internácional de Penqueques (formerly ‘IHOP’). I’m Debbie, your waitperson. Can I get you something to drink?”

    “Uh, hi. An orange juice and some blueberry pancakes please”.

    “One jugo de naranja y penqueques de arándano coming up!”

    “Um, fine”.

    “And can I get you some café?”

    “Si” groaned the Conservative, giving up on this one. ”Gracias”.

    “How do you like it?”

    “Negro” said the Conservative and Debbie the waitress went pale, or paler.

    “You can’t say that word anymore mister” she gasped.

    “What word?”

    “N**gro”.

    “It just means ‘black’. That’s how I like my coffee – black” said the Conservative. “I only wanted to be helpful”.

    “Uh huh” said Debbie and she went over to have a quiet word with her Supervisor, who listened and nodded his head slowly.

    Phew, that was close, thought the Conservative. The problem isn’t immigrants or immigration, he mused. Nothing wrong with either. The problem is people coming here from, say Mexico, who don’t want to become more like Americans but want America to become more like Mexico. Well, I’ve been to Mexico and Mexico sucks. That’s why people don’t want to live there.

    He recalled the argument put forward during the Great Immigration Con of 2006 by former president Bush, now serving a life sentence somewhere in SuperMax, that America is “a nation of immigrants”. That was dumb even by Bush’s standards. No George, fumed the Conservative. It’s a nation of Americans. Or it used to be.

    The Conservative ate his food without much enjoyment and paid the check. “That’ll be ten Obamas and fifteen cents” said the cashier, referring to the new money that had just come in. “Was everything bueno?”

    “Si, muy bueno” he mumbled, handing over some of the still unfamiliar bills, from which Obama’s face, with its golden halo, beamed up at him. “Thanks, er, I mean ‘gracias’”.

    That cashier looked at me a little funny, thought the Conservative as he pulled on his coat. Can she tell? Naaaah…no way.

    Wrong again, Mr Conservative! Even now that cashier is pressing the red panic button underneath her desk and a squad car is on its way…

    • artboyusa, have you been to the Bay Area lately?

      Except for the currency, you hit the nail on the head. Welcome to my reality.

      Have you considered serializing your writings and creating your own website? Your stuff is good …

  6. EvilConservo

    That was some coronation wasn’t it? And, it appears to still be going on. I figure it might continue through next weekend. Might as well, there’s not much going on in the rest of the world after all.

    So, we have the 44th white president, the second black president and the first muslim president all at one time.

    God help us.

  7. Dangerous

    Morbid thought for the day: So, even with Obama as president, the AP is happy to see a ball of fire rising into the air behind the White House. I thought that was just their hope for Bush.

  8. Icarus

    Just heard on “The Factor” that a runway was closed so as to let all the V.I.P’s land their private Jets….. LMAO!

    Freaking Libs … Do as I say not as I do!

  9. artboyusa

    Thanks, Caligirl. I lived in Emeryville for a couple of years in the 80s but I was a lib then, so I thought all that weird stuff was normal(ish). I expect the Bay hasn’t got any less weird with time…anyway, here’s the next instalment:

    THE CONSERVATIVE! Chapter Two: “On Da Run!”

    “My life is sunshine, lollipops and rainbows…” sang the little voice in the Conservative’s head. That sure is one catchy little tune, he thought. “Sunshine, lollipops and…”

    “POLICE! FREEZE!” barked a sudden, angry voice.

    Keep walking, Maynard he told himself. Just keep walking…

    “I SAID STOP! STOP OR I’LL SHOOT!”

    This might be a good time to vote with my feet, the Conservative reasoned and he took off.

    “HALT! HALT, I SAID!”

    “Sorry, no hablo Inglese!” laughed the speeding Conservative.

    He shot around the corner. Surprised pedestrians jumped out of his way. Look at me go, he exulted. He dodged through traffic. He jumped over fireplugs. He raced down alleys, leaping over cardboard boxes and speeding through swirling newspapers.

    “I’m gonna make it! Eat my dust, pigs. I’m flying! I’m the Flash! I’m Superman! I’m…”

    ZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPP!!!

    “I’m in agony! Oh man that stings!” Tasered right in the neck, the Conservative fell headlong, twitching and spazzing all over the place.

    “Nice shot, Jimmy” said one officer.

    “Thanks, Lou. Wow, look at him shake” commented Jimmy. “Wow”.

    “Smell that? He’s cooked through” said Lou. “You can turn him off now, then we can illegally search him”.

    “Just a little more…hey, something fell out of his pocket!”

    “It’s a book” said Lou, holding up a charred paperback. “Well, well well – look at this: ‘The Road to Serfdom’ by Friedrich Hayek. That’s forbidden literature, baby!”

    “Yeah; looks like we got us a stone cold Republican, baby. Oh yeah”.

    “I’m not…a Republican” spazzed the Conservative, eyes rolling and limbs flailing. “I’m… aaaahhh…a conservative … not…same thing….aaahhhhh…please be more… careful….aaahhhh…with your…appellations”.

    “Wise guy, huh? Crank up the amps Jimmy”.

    “With gusto”.

  10. wardmama4

    When I was in line for the last Whatshisname/Palin rally here – there was a Japanese tv team interviewing people – they stopped right in front of me and interviewed an American of Cuban origin who told the tale of why she was a conservative – most especially why her brother who spent 15 years in a Cuban prison is too (NY, that must be interesting). My point being – sadly Artboy – I do not think you are too far off on the possible future of America.

    Those who do not study history (and current political events/situations) are doomed to repeat them.

  11. artboyusa

    THE CONSERVATIVE! Chapter Three: “Law and New Order!”

    “Trial by jury? What trial by jury?” said the Judge. “Its not like he’s in Al Qaeda or something. I sentence John Galt here to indefinite detention in a secure facility – now get him out of my court!”

    “His name’s not John Galt, your Honor” said the puzzled clerk. “Its Maynard…”

    “I was making an ironic literary reference – sheesh!” said the Judge, shaking his head. “Honestly, nobody reads any more”.

    “You said it, Judge…” agreed the Conservative before they dragged him away.

    So, under the provisions of the new Liberty Act the Conservative found himself in an orange jumpsuit in a boxcar on his way to Nevada. The journey was long and conditions were harsh – too long and too harsh for me to describe here. Just take my word for it, okay?

    As he made his journey, back in Washington, Hillary Clinton was interviewing a new intern:

    “This is a most impressive resumé, Jenny” she said. “Most impressive”.

    “Thank you, Madame Secretary, but its Janey, not Jenny.”

    “Of course it is. Anyway, Jilly I’m looking for someone who’s not only smart but who’s also an open person, open to new experiences, you see. Are you an…open person?” she asked, placing a somewhat more than sisterly talon on Jenny’s knee. “Do you enjoy…experiences?”

    “Um…I guess so. Maybe” stammered the Wellesley graduate. “Kind of”.

    “That’s good, Jemima” said Hillary, with a little smile. “That’s very good” and her talon started moving north…

    In the Oval Office President Obama was supervising some redecorating work:

    “That’s right – the hoop goes over there in the corner” he directed. “Huh? No corners you say? That’s why it’s called the ‘Oval Office’? Well, whaddaya know? I never noticed…”

    In secret facilities far under ground white coated Iranian scientists were busily weaponizing plutonium. “For peaceful uses only” they lied, snickering and nudging each other) but the world carried on pretending it wasn’t happening because to even think about it was “kind of a downer”…

    And in other news, the domestication of the dog continued successfully, new strides were being made in agriculture and one day the train bearing the Conservative and his fellow captives finally slid to a halt and harsh voices rang out.

    “Out! Out!” they rang. “Let’s go! Everybody off of the train!”

    The heavy doors slid back with a crash and the Conservative stumbled onto the platform. The sudden blaze of sunlight hurt his squinty little eyes.

    “Form up! Form up! Get in line, you hate-filled scum!” ordered the guards and soon he found himself standing at attention among the shambling, ragged columns of the exiles. The growling guard dogs snapped and strained on their leashes…

    Although he was battered and half starved after the long journey on a diet of nothing but rainwater and Pop Tarts, the ardent Conservative still drew moral strength from the examples set by his GOP heroes – no he didn’t! What are you, mental? What GOP heroes? Goldwater and Reagan are dead. It’s been nothing but go with the flow and gimme gimme gimme for the last twenty years! No ideas, no action and no results, either. Gimme a freakin’ break…

    Anyway, they took him away for Enhanced Enhanced Interrogation, which is where we came in a couple of days ago. Later, after the questioning had finished for the day (or the night, the Conservative really couldn’t tell anymore) he found himself alone in the Isolator, bloody and exhausted. A vaguely remembered melody swam into his memory and he began to whisper the half remembered words of the most conservative rock song ever through broken lips:

    “We’ll be fighting in the streets, with our children at our feet
    And the morals that they worship will be gone
    And the men who spurred us on sit in judgement of all wrong
    They decide and the shotgun sings the song

    “I’ll tip my hat to the new constitution
    Take a bow for the new revolution
    Smile and grin at the change all around
    Pick up my guitar and play
    Just like yesterday
    Then I’ll get on my knees and pray

    “We don’t get fooled again…

    “Nothing in the street looks any different to me
    And the slogans are replaced by the by
    And the parting on the left is now parting on the right
    And the beards have all grown longer overnight

    “I’ll tip my hat to the new constitution
    Take a bow for the new revolution
    Smile and grin at the change all around
    Pick up my guitar and play
    Just like yesterday
    Then I’ll get on my knees and pray

    We don’t get fooled again…”

    The Conservative struggled for breath. “Meet the new boss…same as the old boss…” he whispered and then he toppled slowly over on to the cold concrete floor.

    “Hey, hippie!” bawled the guard. “Knock it off – no Classic Rock! Only Easy Listening allowed in the cells!”

    “Sorry, Boss” croaked the Conservative. “Please, sir: I’d like to see an officer, sir”.

    “Why? Whaddaya want, you planet-raping thought criminal?”

    “I…I want to confess, sir”.

    Wow! Who saw that one coming? Not me! What ever will happen next???? Find out on Monday!

  12. artboyusa

    THE CONSERVATIVE: Chapter Four: “Cry Freedom!”

    “So that’s it? That’s your confession?” said the sceptical Commandant. “Your real name is Abu Jihad? You’re an Al Qaeda sleeper agent sent here to lie low until activated and then wreak terrible damage on America? That’s your story?”

    “Yes, Excellency. This is true” lied the Conservative. “Death to America and all that, you Jew loving infidel pig.”

    “Well, why didn’t you say so? Geez Louise – we thought you might be dangerous or something! Here, let’s get those cuffs right off you”. The cuffs clattered to the floor. “Gosh, I’m sorry you had such a rough time but you know how it: can’t take too many chances with these lousy Right-wingers. They represent the real threat, them and climate change, with their unilateralism and their illegal wars of occupation…but hey, I don’t have to tell you. We’ll get you fixed up and back home to your cave before you can say Jack Robinson”.

    “Ja – aaa…kuh kuh…Rob…”

    “Still kept your sense of humor through the dark night of Bush’s tyranny, huh? That’s great, fella!”

    “Thank you, Excellency”.
    **

    Two weeks later, fed, rested and repaired, the Conservative, or “Abu Jihad”, walked through the open gates of Camp Tookie.

    “Bye bye, American pigs!” he called to the guards. “Bye bye! You hear soon from my human rights lawyers. Bye bye!”

    “So long, Abu” they called back, waving.

    So the Conservative hit the road, heading off into the wilderness of Nevada. He walked and he walked. For days he walked. For days walked he. The sun beat down and he staggered on. On and on, across the trackless waste…

    Where was he going? He did not know. When would he get there? He knew not. What would he find? Not did he know.

    Maybe I’ll just wander the earth, like David Carradine in “Kung Fu”, he thought. Blow into town, do some chores for the pretty widow lady, get into scrapes with the locals…maybe I’ll just drive around aimlessly, like George Chakiris in “Route 66”…sun sure is bright. Sure am thirsty….

    Up ahead he spotted, through blurred and sun-scorched eyes, a bright sign by the roadside. “Only 5 Miles to the World Famous CHICKEN RANCH” it read.

    “Not interested in…poultry” he whispered to himself and, dazed and confused, headed the other way…

    The following morning found the Conservative face down in the dust, unconscious and collapsed in the middle of nowhere. Buzzards circled lazily overhead, whirling in the cloudless sky before descending to earth, waddling awkwardly yet hungrily toward their next meal…two shadows, one short, the other tall and lean, fell across the Conservative’s fallen form. Two men, similarly short and tall, knelt to examine him.

    “Yep, he’s dead” said one.

    Sweet Mother of Mercy – is this the end of Maynard? Find out tomorrow!

  13. artboyusa

    THE CONSERVATIVE! Chapter Five: “Some New Pals”!

    “Where… am I?” stammered the Conservative, swimming back into consciousness. “Who… are you guys?”

    “Well, howdy. Welcome back, pardner” said the big man with the Stetson and the eyepatch. “I’m Reuben J. Cogburn, ex-United States marshal. This here is my little sidekick, Yoda. You’re at our secret hideout”.

    “Shut up, Rooster” snarled the green dwarf. “Not your sidekick do I be; I be a First Degree Jedi Master with an Associate’s Degree in Levitation and Thought Projection!”

    “I never could abide a braggart” grumbled Rooster. “We found you out in the desert – you was nearly played out, old hoss – why, Yoda here thought you was dead!”

    “Did not!” fumed Yoda. “You were the one who taking off his boots was!”

    “…and we brung you in and Yoda here fixed you up with some of his special medicine – care for some more?” He waved a noxious smelling bowl under the Conservative’s sunburned nose.

    “Yuck; no thanks. What’s in it, anyway?”

    “Natural herbs and spices do there be” answered Yoda. “And some of my Special Sauce”.

    “What’s your name, fella?” asked Rooster. “You’re not wanted by the law, are you? Cause if you are, you best speak up now and save yourself a peck of bother later”.

    “Um…maybe” said the Conservative. “My name is Maynard Standfast. I escaped from Camp Tookie…I’m a…conservative”.

    “Well, well” said Rooster “I see”.

    “See do I” said Yoda.

    Busted, thought the Conservative. “Are you gonna turn me in?” he choked. “There’s probably a reward”.

    “No – hell no! This isn’t about money!” roared Rooster. “Well, not this time, anyway. It’s about values; values proven true over generations. It’s about belief in the capacity of the individual over unthinking trust in the collective. It’s about self-reliance and self-sacrifice. It’s about an attitude of empowerment versus one of victimization. It’s about decency and strength and compassion…it’s about being able to stand up and walk tall like a free man in your own country – that’s what it’s about!”

    “Yeah” nodded Yoda. “What Rooster said”.

    “But…but I don’t get it” said the Conservative. “I thought you were…”

    “No sir!” laughed Rooster. “No sirree! We’re on the lam and on the bum, just like you. We don’t fit into this Brave New World neither – too individualistic, too self-reliant, too darn different, that’s us”.

    “Hate it do I when some politician says ‘I want to fight for you’” snarled Yoda. “Fight for myself can I!” he asserted and his light sabre blazed brightly. “A grown man do I be, not a helpless child! Well, not a man, exactly…”

    ”Um, I take your point anyway” said the Conservative. “Perpetual babyhood and dependency, that’s what they want for us”.

    “Shoot” said Rooster “They wanted me to pledge allegiance to that new president, Honest Obe, and I said ‘No thank you. I hope that smooth talking phoney makes you happy, you bunch of damn fools’ I said and they fired me and I lit out for the high country. That’s where I met young Yoda here”.

    “Expelled from the Council I was” said Yoda. “The doubts in my mind they could read. The Dark Side is strong in young Obama, I fear, but see it they could not”.

    “Obama’s not dark” said the Conservative. “He’s post-racial except when he finds it politically expedient to mention his color, which is about every five minutes but anyway, what are you guys doing out here in the desert?”

    “A little rustling, a little hustling” said Rooster. “A little arts and crafts. You know how it is. Biding our time, waiting for better days”.

    “Hook up with us you are welcome to do” said Yoda.

    “Will you teach me some cool Jedi skills?” asked the Conservative. “And will Rooster teach me how to shoot and ride?”

    “That and more, old hoss” said Rooster. “Welcome to the 17% Gang!”

    “17%?”

    “Current polling indicates that 83% of Americans approve of President Obama’s handling of his new office” said Yoda. “So if approve you do not, in the 17% Gang do you be!”

    “Cool! My own gang!” said the Conservative. “Cool!”

    “Learn you the secret handshake shall I” said Yoda.

    “Not so fast little guy” warned Rooster. “We still gotta haze him”.

    “Haze me?”

    “Nothing is it at all” said Yoda, tapping his staff in one little green claw. “Barely will you feel anything”.

    “Yeah…barely” said Rooster, spinning the chamber of his Colt.


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