Taking the Prize

A cupla more remarks on the awarding of the Nobel Peace Prize to President Obama, which decision itself seems to be taking some kind of prize of its own. The Say What ? Prize, maybe, for Things Which Need More Explanation Than Quantam Mechanics.


It seems pretty clear that he wasn’t given the award for anything he’s done yet, certainly nothing he’d accomplished by the February 1 nomination deadline. Ergo, it must be for something they expect/hope/encourage/want him to do. (As for who they are, this may help.)

And this can only be read as an attempt to influence the decisions of a sitting US President and basically stick their superior Nordic noses into our oh-so-backward political affairs. Seems to moi that there are only two routes that Mr. Obama can choose… or choose with any integrity.

He can –with graciousness and genuine humility– refuse the prize. Or –and the inherent contradictions of this are obvious– he can accept the prize and resign the Presidency. Maybe go off to some high UN office, maybe become Philosopher King of the Whole-Wide World, or just ascend directly unto the right hand of the Father, into the realm of the Platonic Forms, something like that.

Not gonna happen, either one; he’s already accepted it.

Adieu d’intégrité.

Also, having just spent many hours of the last two weeks wandering in and around ruins located variously in Greece, Italy, and Turkey –few of them lacking at least one classic Greek theater, it’s kinda hard not to see some suggestion of Greek tragedy in all this. Barack Obama has, with Mercurial speed, become more myth than man. His ascension seems propelled by something greater –or lesser– than things like mere accomplishment or personal character or merit. The man is headed for the sun on wings of… wings of… has anybody really figured the aerodynamics of all this out?

What might the Fates, those tricky little threadsters, have in mind here?

A little worrying, ask me.


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