Suppose you are a Washington, D.C. journalist. You attended a nice college or university, worked your way up to the top of your profession, and have traveled the globe with the President or a senior Cabinet-level official. You own a nice home in the DC suburbs and vacation at one of the beaches of Delaware, North Carolina, or maybe even Martha’s Vineyard or Nantucket.
But now the bloom has come off this “Sweet Gypsy Rose.” You have discovered that your government has lied to you. That is not surprising. Your college professors told you this would happen. But this is much, much worse because you allowed this to happen. Contrary to what you were taught in journalism school, you let the White House get away with its lies and deceptions, in this instance about Benghazi.
The other day, the Safeway cashier called you an “Obama groupie.” Your Republican next-door neighbor who listens to Rush Limbaugh thinks you are a wimpy member of the “drive-by media.” The wife of your son’s travel baseball coach thinks you are no different than a Pravda reporter covering the Politburo in the old Soviet Union.
Today, while sitting in the White House briefing room listening to more of spokesman Jay Carney’s lies, you reach an epiphany: The Safeway cashier, next-door neighbor, and travel ball coach’s wife are correct. Suddenly, the adrenaline — and your manhood — kick in. The thrill, aura and mystique of Barack Obama are all gone.
The mythology of “Yes, we can” has been replaced by the reality of “No, He can’t — and never could.”