November 5, 2014
By: Linda Case Gibbons
When he waddled in the door and down the aisle, it was evident he was indeed lame…and a duck. But he didn’t just waddle, he swaggered, head thrust forward. You could tell he was spoiling for a fight.
Calling him a "Lame Duck” made sense. That’s the correct term, six years in, but I thought it was mind-boggling. At this stage of the game "they” still didn’t realize he had been lame from the get-go. They still didn’t "get” what he was all about.
Leopards don’t change their spots, but they kept expecting him to.
They gave him suggestions on what he should do, then were shocked that he didn’t do it.
They expected him to do the "right” thing, not realizing that he was doing the "right” thing – right for him!
It was no accident.
Whatever he did, he intended to do. They were just using the wrong measuring sticks.
I had been conducting some unusual interviews lately, but today’s was the most fowl.
This senior executive had just hosted an after-the-election-luncheon meeting with other ducks on both sides of the aisle, and from the looks of things, the meeting hadn’t gone well.
But I jumped in with both feet anyway.
"So, sir, in the wake of the midterm elections, I wonder if you would mind answering a few questions about those results?”
"Sure,” he said in that annoying staccato bark he had.
"I have nothing to hide. This election wasn’t about me, so what would I have to hide?”
Yeah, what would he have to hide?
"Well, that’s not how some other people are seeing it, sir.
"Political pundits and plain everyday citizens are saying the midterms were only about you. About stopping you and what you have been doing!
"People are teed off, sir. Once they ran to you. Now they run from you!”
He shifted on his seat, the chip on his left shoulder tilting him off balance.
"I’m listening to the voters,” he said, "especially to the ducks who didn’t vote, which is two-thirds, so I’m especially listening to them.”
I wondered how you could listen to people who weren’t talking, but I pressed on.
"Nearly 60 percent of the people disapprove of just about everything you do, sir. Take healthcare for instance. Please, take healthcare.”
It was my attempt at a little joke, but he just stared.
"Well,” I continued, flustered. "Some people are paying a lot for their policies and some aren’t paying anything at all.
"The ones who are being subsidized are being subsidized by the people who are paying a lot. And the people who pay a lot can’t even go to a doctor now because their deductibles are so high. You promised they’d save money…”
"I just need to sell it better,” he quacked. "It’s not about my policies, it’s about politics. But not my politics...or my policies.”
"I don’t think that’s true, sir. It’s all about your policies. People look at that duck on the TV commercials, the one who does yoga and gives them money when they’re sick and they like what he does. They don’t like what you do.”
"Humph!” I could tell I’d hit a nerve. "I guess if I did healthcare twice a day for 15 years, I guess I’d be pretty darn good at it, too.”
The people who voted obviously weren’t the only ones who were teed off!
"Well, let’s move on. You dropped the ball big time on Ebola…”
"We’ve only had three cases!” He said, flapping his wings angrily.
"And the borders…”
"We’re all immigrants! Every American wants immigration reform and I’m going to give it to them whether they want it or not!”
He was massaging his achy webbed foot. "And besides, young lady, you’re a racist!”
I ignored that. We had all learned to do that over the past six years and especially during the midterm elections.
"No one in your flock wanted to be anywhere near you while they were on the campaign trail!”
"I’ve been in the limelight when requests for my appearance were endless!” he hissed. Watch it when ducks hiss. "It has nothing to do with my policies! But racists like you would say so,” he added peevishly.
"How about your failed foreign policy? How about Iran? You’ve been writing secret pen pal letters to the Ayatollah Ali Khamenei?”
What I didn’t say was that the Ayatollah had flat out ignored Obama’s letters, more than a few of them. He had openly mocked Obama’s approach to handling ISIS and in asking for Iran’s help, laughing at the Lame Duck from his hospital bed!
"How does it make you feel? China dissed you on your last trip there. Iran makes fun of you. Do you think this is instant karma for calling Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu a chicken, uh, a coward?”
I said the last as I judicially backed away from his beak. He didn’t look so friendly right at the moment. Do ducks have teeth?
"Let me be clear, I never said that. I don’t know who said that. I won’t rest until I find out who said that.” He poked his wing in my face for emphasis.
Back to Iran. "You do know Iran hates America…don’t you?”
From his blank stare, I didn’t think he did.
"I have a legacy to think of…And a Peace Prize. Stop war, that’s me. Hit the November deadline with Iran. A little nuclear compromise, what could it hurt?”
Maybe Israel? I thought. Maybe us?
"Besides,” he said, carefully preening himself. "I’ve been doing secret negotiations with Iran since 2012. What’s the big deal? Besides, my top advisor was born in Iran. And did I mention that you’re a racist?”
I refused to rise to his bait.
"Our allies are fed up, too, sir. So are your supporters. Even some of your staunchest aren’t getting that old "tingle up the leg” anymore, sir.”
"I just need to explain it better,” he said, plumping up his pin feathers. "But, of course, you realize, it’s a secret.”
"What is? The IRS scandal?” I asked. "The who- done-what in Benghazi?”
"I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”
I started to say that lack of transparency was the problem, but I was too tired.
I decided to take another tack.
"So how was your bipartisan luncheon?” I asked and waited, perched anxiously on the edge of my seat.
I already heard he had "snapped” at one of his right hand ducks at the meeting. The duck had actually had the temerity to ask a Republican a question about amnesty. This had "irritated” the Lame Duck, causing him to quack that he’d had enough!
He didn’t even leave time for his luncheon guests to get heartburn! And he wasn’t the only one who’d had enough.
"If those right wing ducks don’t act on immigration reform, I will. I’ll try to do it legally, but my patience is running out. It’ll probably run out just before the new ducks are sworn into the Senate in January.”
He stood, wobbled a little on his lame duck leg and announced that our meeting was over.
"I promise I will work with the people by working unilaterally on my own,” he said. "I’ll try to stay within the Constitution, but may not be able to. After all, I’m the victim here. Bush is still making a mess of things, you know.”
Then he left, doing what he does best: heading out of town when things heat up, this time to Beijing.”
Hold the line, America.