My friend’s son asked him why the president was asking Congress for permission to bomb Siri.
I can understand the confusion. The Syria story has been as dizzying as driving through the Oracle and Ina intersection — where, in order to make a left turn, you have to make a Michigan left and then a Utah U-turn, a California stop and a Rhode Island right. Miss your turn and you could end up in New Mexico. Or worse: Damascus.
This week the Syria story had more plot twists than Season 5 of “Breaking Bad.” By next week I expect Hank to take the chemical weapons off Assad’s hands, Saul Goodman to take the credit for swinging the sweet deal and Walt Junior to announce he’s aligned with al-Qaida.
When Assad used chemical weapons to butcher his people, President Obama drew a red line under the phrase “I hate Washington politics but here I go anyway” and declared that if you’re going to massacre thousands of civilians please skip the poisonous gas and stick with semi-automatic weapons, which greatly pleased the National Rifle Association. I believe there’s only one acceptable way to kill people, and that’s by lethal injection after countless courtroom delays—unless you’re white and can afford Saul Goodman.
You’d think standing tall against the use of poison gas would be an easy sell to the suckers and rubes we call the American public. But hey, we’re the same goobers who bought the yellow cake uranium story from Dick Cheney and never questioned George Bush’s claim that Sad-um got the recipe from Betty Crocker.
Here’s Obama’s problem. Americans are fried. We’re toast, ready to toss on a Snuggie and binge on chick flicks. Been there, done that, got nothing for killing and dying except hummers for Junior League moms and gold records for Toby Keith.
Undaunted, Obama put out a call for an international posse to slap Syria, and France showed up wearing Johnny Depp’s Tonto costume. Fox News pointed out the White House is blind to the irony that French Camembert cheese is classified as a chemical weapon by The Hague.
Obama then asked Congress for permission to attack Syria because he loves working with this Congress as much as film directors love working with Lindsay Lohan on a bender.
What kind of attack did he have in mind? Unbelievably small, but not a pinprick. We sounded like a nurse warning Opie that the shot would pinch a little.
Congress said it would be happy to go to war against 47 percent of Americans and noted that Captain America, the global cop, had retired and could be found eating doughnuts at a diner in Georgetown.
House Speaker John Boehner noted if Assad, the child killer, ever came out in favor of Obamacare, the House would vote to bomb Syria back to the Stone Age, which, curiously, is where many Congressmen hail from. Commit war crimes and we’ll send over Anderson Cooper and a sympathy card.
Obama proved to be a master of the game of “Hide and Go Seek Chemical Weapons.” While the president leaned on Congress to approve of military action he counted backwards from 100. This sly strategy gave Assad time to hide his weapons, write a haiku and buy a used Libyan bunker off eBay.
Tea partiers passed on the chance to bomb Muslims who lack American birth certificates, Hillary sounded like a war monger and Republicans sang “Give Peace a Chance.” and the President became cinched in more knots than the winsome actor cast to star in the film version of “Fifty Shades of Grey”.
When Secretary of State John Kerry made an off-the-cuff remark noting that if Assad gave up his chemical weapons they could all go back to Martha’s Vineyard for some clam chowder, Vladimir Putin’s Foreign Minister, Boris Badenov, formerly of Natasha and Boris, said Russia would be happy to take Assad’s chemical weapons so a shirtless Putin, who was great in “Jackass 3”, could crush them with his virile manliness.
Then Obama spoke to the nation whose remote was set to mute ever since Miley Cyrus twerked on the VMA Awards. Those of us living on Elysium were relieved the door had been left open for a diplomatic solution, while the war-peddling media secretly hoped the door would slam shut.
By midweek Putin became a New York Times oped editor, Assad vowed to surrender the gas he denied possessing and McCain turned over his smartphone poker app. And I was still trapped on an endless loop at Oracle and Ina because I made an Alabama left in a Wisconsin zone.
I suspect when it comes to productive dialogue, talking to the Syrians and Russians in Geneva will rival Clint Eastwood talking to a chair.
I can only offer one sure prediction: Dennis Rodman will get involved, John Kerry will never ad-lib again and I will master the Michigan left.