Hang 787,000,000,000 Dude!

A few months ago I voted for Senator Barack Obama to become the 44th President of the United States. I don’t regret my decision because; at least for me, and thankfully the majority of Americans, the McCain-Palin option was not an option. Recently though I have been feeling a little sympathetic for President Obama. Because he has walked directly into the shit storm that is our economy, carrying nothing but a flimsy umbrella that keeps getting turned inside out. I guess I just wish President Obama had a few weeks to relax, stretch Air Force One’s legs a little, shag Michelle in the oval office, or take the family for a spin on a nuclear submarine. I understand you should always be careful what you wish for, but it’s as if this guy got sold a lemon off the lot and when he brought it back the salesman handed him some tools and made him fix it himself. That’s life I guess.

One thing I have noticed about our new president is that, minus bowling, he looks pretty damn cool doing everything. I personally think it has a lot to do with him being half white and half black. It must be nice having that kind of racial flexibility, swinging from one race to the next. Never before have we had a president who could casually roll into a NASCAR race, pound a couple Busch Ice Lights with some rednecks, and then go shoot a little hoop in Anacostia with the brothers. Makes me I wish I were half black.

Recently I came across this picture of President Obama bodysurfing. So often in this age of digital photography and electronically shared photo albums we rarely take the time to digest what we’re actually viewing, but this image stopped me in my tracks. Here we see our 44th President dropping in to a wave with perfect North Shore form. His relaxed look and bravado says to me, this guy can do anything. And while I know this is far from the truth. (See bowling) This image gives me a sense of tranquility that former President Bush never quite delivered. Because unfortunately between Mr. Bush’s twisted rhetoric and unfettered ego he always made me feel as if he was unable ride a tricycle with training wheels without hurting himself. Sorry Mr. Busch.

So here’s to you President Obama and your new presidency. I hope for you, me, and the rest of the world that your stimulus package works as smoothly as you do down a wave and allows the U.S. to once again start buying the useless Chinese goods we have all come to love.

And hey, if the package works it might even give you a chance to brush up on your ten-pin, and more importantly help me land a full-time job.

The United States of Soccer.

Yesterday's win over Mexico during the World Cup qualifier was brilliant. The game itself was terrible, but somehow beating the Mexicans at there own game gives me a sense of great national pride. After all, for what feels like my entire life, our little friends from the South have been kicking the crap out of us. "They're just better than us." "It is their game." We would tell ourselves after losing 9-0. And while winning any international soccer match makes me feel like doing cartwheels in my front lawn, I have to say there is a certain part of me that feels like a real dick for celebrating when beating Mexico. Maybe it's the despondent look on the faces of the bar-backs who watch the game through a kitchen doorway, but it feels like watching an older brother knock his kid brother's ice cream cone to ground and then stepping on it. Which is why I felt Mr. Marquez's Judo style kick to the knee of our goalkeeper was emblematic of what all Mexicans want to do. Take us down.

That being said, I hope this summer we go down to El Azteca, a place where we have never won, and rise above cheap shots and remind them how to play this beautiful game.