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Of Skulls and Podiums

Good thing the rebels in Libya don't read the New York Times. Still, a legend built on a single deed is a fragile thing. There is no depth to it; no reserve of achievement that can be called upon in time of need. The veneer of fiction, once scratched, must instantly be japanned to cover the defect.

Here's a thought. What Andrew Sullivan saw being pummeled in public last week was the real Obama not the one who is petulantly withholding his genius. The same incompetent he trusts to keep him safe; the very same one who is making the decision on Libya and the one he hopes will win an election to another four-year term.  You know, the Billion Dollar Man. Maybe Chris Rock has got it all wrong. It's not Osama's skull that is in  the president's hands. It's our skulls that are in his keeping. People knew that once, back when they remembered that being president was a deadly serious job.


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