Whom Will Barack Blame for His Olympic-Sized Failure?

Although not a trained dancer, I could not help but experiment with a few steps of the samba upon hearing the news that Rio de Janeiro won its bid for the Olympic Games of 2016. I rejoiced as if I were in the stands seconds after a goal was scored during Euro 2008. Of course, I am pleased that South America finally got a chance to host an Olympics of its own, but of paramount importance to me was that my own city, Chicago, lost.

When I first heard the news I gave fist bumps to Democratic associates, in the hopes that they would channel some bonhomie towards those “citizens of the world” they imagine to be their friends. Luckily, Friday produced little suspense. The city of big shoulders got flattened in the first round, buzz-killed by dark horses Tokyo and Madrid. The second round found the Japanese capital eliminated and the final ballot left Rio alone atop the winner’s bracket.

Hurrah! Denizens of the Windy City have been saved from seven continuous years of moronic hype, hiked taxes, and massively increased congestion. If that isn’t cause enough to give thanks, I don’t know what is. Never did irrelevance feel so good.

Political ramifications yielded added benefit. The IOC bloodletting made Barack Obama -- who soon may be regarded as the worst president in American history -- look like the dissociative bumbler many of us know him to be.

The president put his prodigious ego on the line only to have it flailed like an intelligent student in a women’s studies class. At Copenhagen, Barack came, saw, emoted, and got duly slaughtered.

Even his omnipotent teleprompter couldn’t have put a positive spin on the happenings. The tallies from the early elimination round read as follows: Madrid 28, Tokyo 22, Rio 21, and Chicago 18.

On paper, though, it’s hard to know where my former senator erred. Obama and the first lady did everything by the book (of Axelrod).

They flew at great taxpayer expense to visit their fellow bureaucratic elites, dressed well, ascended the speaker’s podium gracefully, and Oprahcized in their heralded confessional style.

They even brought the genuine article, Oprah Winfrey, to lobby committee members on their behalf. As if that were not enough, Michelle Obama even played the guilt card by making sure that the delegates knew how big of “a sacrifice” it was for her to attend and have to stay in some crummy five-star hotel.

Put yourself in her $540 shoes. You’d whine too. In light of Princeton disappointing her, imagine the degradation inherent to slumming around B-list Denmark.

To place an exclamation point on their bid, the administration brought in the ultimate closer -- America’s Marquess of Quisenberry -- to “seal the deal” and, more importantly, to enhance the esteem of the inhabitants of our latter-day Tammany Hall.

His speech was standard. No detail was spared as Obama spoke of Obama. He expounded upon his love for his wife, the city they share, our area’s diversity, the Hog Butcher of the World’s unity via parade, and the convenience of the games being held so close to Hyde Park (thereby ensuring that The One attends).

He alluded to his greatness as a surefire means of bonding with foreigners. He reminisced that last year “people from every corner of the world gathered in the city of Chicago or in front of their televisions to watch” him beat an ossified RINO in the election.

With references like that it’s a wonder they didn’t make him president of the European Union as an afterthought. The committee’s rejection still puzzles. Obama United even made it clear that their combined “sales pitch” was all about them.