Fortunate Son

As I did this weekend with John Lennon’s ancient “War Is Over” billboard, Moe Lane dusts off another relic of the late 1960s and brings it up to date:

[youtube TNfwn7NQmig]

As  James Taranto writes:

Even more risible, though, is the claim that the administration “is going to speak truth to power.” Hello, Valerie? Your boss is the president of the United States! No one is more powerful. As we suggested Friday, it really seems as if Obama and his men do not understand what it means to be president. Because their power is constrained–thank you, Founding Fathers!–they labor under the delusion that they are powerless.

Yet while this is all hilarious, it is also scary when you think it through. Great power entails great responsibility. There is little to suggest that Obama and his aides appreciate their responsibility, and much, including their incessant complaining that the previous president did a lousy job, to suggest an attitude of total irresponsibility.

The job of those in power is not to “speak truth to power,” though it would be nice if they spoke the truth once in a while.

One of the Glenn Reynolds’ readers notes:

The link to Taranto’s taunt of Valerie Jarrett was timed well with Barbara Curtis’ latest post at PJM. These people are so steeped in Saul Alinsky that they fail to realize that they were written for people trying to topple the system and mau-mau the flakcatchers. But now THEY ARE the flack-catchers and they obviously never really understood the problems of governing. There’s a story in Newsweek about how Obama wasn’t going to be like Redford in The Candidate wondering, “What now?” (Maybe I found it on Instapundit.) But he’s finding out that governing by fiat doesn’t work for long in this country. The tags for his presidency so far seem to be Radical, Naive, FDR, Jimmy Carter, Socialism and Screw Up.

The Professor adds, “Yeah, Alinsky’s a set of rules for annoying The Man. Not much help once you are The Man.”

Meanwhile, Allahpundit has a flashback to a more recent deja vu experience. When the Lincoln bedroom starts a- rockin’, don’t bother knockin’. (Unless you’re about to drop off a wheelbarrow full of money, of course.)