Help Me Bubba-wan! You Are My Only Hope!

And who better than The Man from Hope?  Yet there is something ineffably sad about this scene.  The president, hopelessly out of his pay grade, calls upon the Pro from Dover, who delivers as always.  And then, in media res, simply wanders off because he has, well, other things to do.  Everything may be factual.  He may very well have had other things to do.  But there is an odd tone-deafness to the imagery in this, the post-modern Age of Image.  Visually, he seems to announce his own irrelevance.  This is not what his supporters thought they were electing; and in a way it is not what his opponents thought they were resisting, either. 



(h/t The Anchoress; Instapundit)

Give us Reagan or give us Nixon!  Give us FDR or give us LBJ!  Our presidents should succeed greatly or fail gloriously.  Give us Jesus or give us Barabbas!  But don't give us the smoke.