This post is quite overdue. I started writing it as a running commentary during President Obama’s State of the Union address, but its completion was derailed by a lengthy power outage and my inevitable procrastination.
In other words, I’m about as efficient as Congress.
This is not a political analysis of the State of the Union, but I would be remiss if I didn’t mention this year’s integration of republicans and democrats in the House chamber. The crossing of the aisle was deemed a symbol of the newly united Congress in the wake of the Tucson shooting (and the polarizing bitch-fests that marked the 111th Congress).
While I do appreciate the sentiment, it will take more than a game of Congressional musical chairs to convince me that “united Congress” is no longer an oxymoron.
Absent the aisle’s role as political party divider, democrats and republicans wore blue and red ties/suits, respectively, to avoid being confused with the enemy. Yeah, united my ass.
I was debating the myriad ways politicians are full of shit when I heard the president say, “It gets even more complicated once they’re smoked.”
Imagine my dismay when I realized he was talking about salmon.
To the President’s credit, this comment seemed to reengage the audience. However, my attention was quickly refocused on the two men seated behind the president: the man identifiable by less than 60% of American citizens…and John Boehner.
For the entirety of the speech, Vice President Joe Biden and Speaker Boehner have the somewhat awkward task of sitting behind President Obama, their every reaction (or lack thereof) being captured on camera for the entire nation to see.
Their awkwardness is my gift.
Boehner did not even attempt to conceal his boredom. He stared blankly. He fidgeted. He removed lint from his suit. He yawned.
He was the spitting image of a hung-over (albeit well dressed) college student fighting to stay awake during a 9:00am lecture.
I anxiously watched as it looked as though Boehner was about to lose the battle. His eyes closed, his head bobbed, and for just a split second, he fell asleep.
With Johnny Drama’s “VICTORY!” cry echoing in my head, I moved my attention to the VP.
Biden was as animated as Boehner was stiff. He smiled frequently. He pretended to jot down notes. And on multiple occasions, he eagerly clapped to an otherwise silent room.
While I was considering possible explanations for Biden’s exaggerated enthusiasm (bribery or perhaps a prescription drug), he made a gesture I never saw coming.
Upon Obama’s mention of Biden’s working-class roots in Scranton, PA, the Vice President of the United States fist pumped in front of Congress.
That’s right, Biden’s Pennsylvania pride elicited a fist pump.
After watching that, I guess there’s really only one thing left to say: LET’S GO PACKERS!!!!
