—–

Silly me, I was sure I’d plug that sucker in and the connection to my wireless router would work like a charm. You know, something within the Blu-ray finds the router, connects, and voila! — Welcome to Netflix instant stream. What would you like to watch first?

In summation: Silly me.

Which brings to me why I always wait a lot longer than I normally would to enter the exciting world of the latest pop culture, cool, neato, technological gizmo.

In my experience, since the demise of the vacuum tube, anything new involving the supposedly User Friendly digital age — computer, video games, iPhone, iPod, whatever – should come with a warning label that makes clear the following:

What you’re about to purchase looks cool, sleek, fun, and it will be … someday. But not before you’re plunged into a long frustrating nightmare involving such issues as incompatibility, instruction manuals an astronaut couldn’t understand, obnoxious error messages, a troubleshooting website even more confusing than our instruction manual, long hold times at 1-800-FOOLED-U (we suggest you pack a lunch), and a Tech Support department manned by nice people thousands of miles away eager to help you with a flip-chart and an accent impossible to understand.

Plug it in.

Turn it on.

Enjoy it.

That’s never happened to me. Not once. So forgive me if this is too much to ask, but when I lay out the kind of money needed for a Blu-ray or iPod or computer, this stuff should be as user-friendly as a washing machine, not the first manned space station.

Six weeks ago I bought a new computer; walked into the computer store, opened my arms, and proclaimed: ”Give me the best one you got because I don’t want any problems with it.” And guess what?

Ever since I’ve spent more time on the phone with customer service than with my own wife. Two days last week I was completely down and as I write this I’m still waiting on a call back just to get the sound working again.

Home computers have been around for more than two decades. Hewlett Packard can’t build one that you plug in and it works? 

—– 

And regardless of the new device, here’s my favorite part of every experience…

At one point or another, me and the Techie From Another Hemisphere always reach the point where they’ve never ever come across a problem like mine before. For the record, this point is usually reached late into the night while I’m sitting in a pile of instruction manuals, empty liquor bottles, and staring longingly at a razor blade.

Take for instance my spanking new Blu-ray player. Oh, it’s working now. Netflix is all hooked up and streaming like nobody’s business (and as soon as my computer’s repaired I look forward to enjoying it). But I ask you, why did hooking up a Blu-ray player have to be such a nightmare before I was allowed to ascend Valhalla? Why did I have to pay my AT&T Internet provider an extra forty bucks for installation support? Why four hours (no exaggeration) with tech support (half of it on hold)?

And, really, why does this always happen…?

TECH GUY: Hmm?
ME: What do you mean, hmm?
TECH GUY: Just ah-
ME: This is the first time you’ve run into my problem, right?
TECH GUY: Well, sir it’s just that–
ME: No, it’s okay. If we didn’t eventually reach this point I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.  

Then again, maybe I’m the idiot.

But I’m also the idiot who bitterly clings to the old and only grudgingly purchases the new.

But rather than complain I’d like to offer a suggestion to those of you in the home entertainment world eager to bring on the next new thing: Hire an idiot; someone like me to say things like:

What’s a WPS button?
What does LAN mean?
Why isn’t my fairly standard router included in your step-by-step set-up guide?
Do you get a kickback from AT&T for every call to set up this Blu-ray player?
Could you please write this manual for those of us who have felt the touch of a woman.

And finally….

Does this have to be so difficult?
Does this have to be so difficult?
Does THIS have to be so difficult?

You really want to move some merchandise, you really want me to purchase yet another copy of “The Searchers” or “Darkness on the Edge of Town” because the latest digital wowser you came up with really is like experiencing it again for the first time? Then I suggest that the same amount of impressive brainpower you put into creating whatever this thing is, you also put into … simplifying it.

Plug it in.

Turn it on.

Enjoy it.

Think toaster.

But Palin ain’t buying it by the barrel, she’s got a whole pipeline of pure grade indigo flowing from the North Slope as she pumps up the volume on her NY Times #1 bestselling memoir.

When I got about halfway through the book I set it down, stepped outside of my Washington, DC townhouse and went for a run around the U.S. Capitol. Listening to the Outlaws, Marshall Tucker Band, and Lil Bow Wow (my daughter slipped that one in there) on my iPod, the recurrent thought in my mind was that this woman is far more qualified to be president of the United States than the current occupant of the White House.

When I completed the journey that is Going Rogue, I wrote down five things:

–She is a positive role model for all Americans
–She is an executive, takes on hard problems and makes tough decisions
–She has tremendous energy, balance and intellect
–America shafted itself in this last election
–Alaska is lucky to have her

Oh, and a sixth, Sarah Palin could be the next president of the United States.

Her book washes away all doubts that any reader might have had about her readiness to be president. She comes across as exceptionally bright, dedicated, and passionate about public service. Her moral compass is strong, pointing true North in this case. And she has a wicked sense of humor.

The most salient take-away from Going Rogue for me was what I admired most in her campaign, which was that she had been in charge as either a mayor or a governor whereas none of the other candidates on either ticket had. Having been a commander several times in the military I know that there is a huge difference between being a hardworking and important staff officer and an ‘alone at the top’ commander. No matter how fancy the title, executive officer or Senator, at the end of the day, you are recommending to someone who actually makes the decision.

As a Governor, mayor or commander, you have the unparalleled responsibility to actually make decisions that have ramifications. There is little training that can prepare you for all those heads turning in your direction when it is decision time. You can’t blithely abstain on a vote or hide behind the guy in front of you, because you own the decision. Case in point is Obama’s inexcusable delay in making a decision on Afghanistan. His indecision, cloaked as ‘sleeves-rolled-up-pensiveness’, is an indicator that he was, at a minimum, unprepared to be commander in chief. What we see in his speech at West Point is a minimally slimmed down version of what General Stan McChrystal submitted to the president on August 30th. So now big Stan has nine months to do what he said it takes 12 months to accomplish.

Palin, on the other hand, demonstrates decisiveness and vulnerability. Is she prepared for the enormous breadth of responsibility of president? I think she’s ready for the hard part, which is making tough decisions. She’s no “Ruminator-in Chief”, that’s for sure, and if the American people think a second year back bench senator was ready to be president, I’m not sure we’ve got the right rubric out there.

Palin is real. She takes counsel of her fears and continuously comes back to her foundation of family, God, state and nation for reassurance and guidance. She has strong moral guideposts that she uses to navigate the shark infested political waters. Reading about the decisions Sarah Palin faced at multiple levels of government reminded me of something my command sergeant major in the 82nd Airborne Division used to say when we faced a tough decision together: “Sir, when you’re right, don’t worry about it.”

Palin is right on many issues such as energy policy, defense, business, and size of government. She gets it and my hope is that she firms up her base and then reaches out to moderates across this country. She has a gritty determination borne in the salmon hauls and caribou hunts that make her pioneer tough.

I am left wondering why the McCain campaign bottled her up and didn’t let the maverick, well, be a maverick. McCain made an unconventional pick and instead of hiring a Wall Street stockbroker to manage her I’m perplexed, and disappointed, that he didn’t let this one-woman campaign juggernaut do her thing. If she was accustomed to traveling all over Alaska campaigning essentially by herself or with her family by her side, surely she could have done without all of the layers of control. I believe that Sarah Palin is precisely what the American people are seeking: an honest, intelligent, passionate, practical conservative who is nonpartisan and a tough decision maker.

Oddly, as I read Going Rogue and learned the real story behind the mainstream media assault upon this patriot, I was briefly reminded of the first time I met Hillary Clinton. She was in her first year as New York’s junior senator and my impression of her was largely shaped by what I read in the newspapers or saw on television, meaning mostly negative. When she came into the Pentagon for a 45 minute briefing from my boss, I was one of four people in the room: the Vice Chief of Staff of the Army, Senator Clinton, her assistant Uma Abedin, and me.

Over the next 90 minutes, she not only ignored her schedule, but she demonstrated a keen intellect, undeniable sincerity, and genuine interest in the many complex topics discussed. I came away from that meeting with an entirely different viewpoint on Senator Clinton than had been painted for me in the media. I tucked away the lesson to always remember that there is a phalanx of reporters, journalists and hate mongers who are trying to tell us all what to think.

And so it was with Sarah Palin, someone I actually supported. I think Palin recognizes that the extreme members of both parties and media put each of them through the Mixmaster, in some part because they are women, and she extends an olive branch to Clinton for a chat over a cup of coffee.

No matter what your political leanings, you better believe that Sarah Palin will step forward when the time is right. She has spine and she is called to public service. She’s been bloodied in the faux battles of presidential politics and yet she’s still standing, making tough decisions. She seems to have an iron core spirit and a will to make our country better.

And like that pipeline of ink, she seems to have an indomitable will that when attacked, unfortunately for her opponents, she doesn’t break. Her resolve seems to strengthen.

As her father said, “Sarah’s not retreating; she’s reloading.”

We should hope so, because she’s precisely the kind of leader America needs.

Announcer

Live! From the fabulous Turtle Bay Ballroom at United Nations Headquarters, it’s the Rat Pack of Evil All-Star International Celebrity Roast of President Barack Obama!

(orchestra fanfare: ‘Make ‘Em Laugh’)

With Pyongyang funnyman Kim Jong-Il! Borscht Belt headliner Vlady Putin! Queen of Mean Liz Windsor! Saudi Sheik of Schtick King Abdullah! Beijing jokeslinger Hu Jintao! Wacky al Qaeda Caveman Ayman al-Zawahiri! Nick ‘the Knife’ Sarkozy! Sassy Wanda Sykes! South-of-the-border slapstick team Hugo Chavez and the Castro Brothers! Taliban Madman Mullah Omar! Jon Stewart! Lovable Libyan lush Muammar al-Ghadaffi! Grovelin’ Guvner Gordy Brown! Bashar “The Chin” al-Assad! The Hamas Fattah Dancers! And starring your Master of Ceremonies — that suntan man with a plan from Iran — that Persian with a nuclear perversion — Sheckyyyyyy Ahmedinejad!

(applause)

Shecky Ahmedinejad

Okay, okay, pipe down. Let’s get this thing over with, this straitjacket is a rental and my magic carpet is double-parked on East 43rd. Mohamed H. Prophet, will you get a load of the evil on the stage tonight? I haven’t seen this many bombs since Janeane Garofalo played the American Legion convention.

(Zawahiri spit-take)

At least there aren’t any Zionist. Hey, wait a minute – there’s Jon Stewart! Oy vey, who let the Jew in? This is a comedy event, for Allah’s sake. Hey Jon, do you know what I have in common with Taco Bell? We’re both gonna give you the gas.

(Jon Stewart mugs Macaulay Culkin ‘Home Alone’ face)

But, hey, enough about these losers. Let’s talk about the man we’re all here to honor tonight: my pal, Barack Obama.

(applause)

What a mensch this guy is. Total sweetheart. As soon as he was elected, he told me he would come to the negotiating table without preconditions. You know what ‘preconditions’ are? That’s Persian for ‘balls.’ Barack, one look at the stars on the stage proves you still have a knack for community organizing. You’ve brought the entire evil community together, in the spirit of international dialog, to ask you one simple question: how does our ass taste?

(rimshot)

But not everybody has a sense of humor. When I was planning this roast, I sent invitations to every bigshot infidel TV comic in Satanland, but they all turned me down. Was it my holocaust one-liners? My ballistic missile schtick? Nope. These douchebags said they couldn’t think of anything funny about Barack Obama. Not a single thing.

(scattered groans, boos)

Yeah, exactly. I mean what the fuck? Maybe I should get my SAG card, because, come on, this clueless pussy is the biggest gift to international insult comedy since Neville Chamberlain. Holy dung, when we heard the infidels elected him, I almost had to shut down my nuke program. My scientists were laughing so hard they kicked over half of our centrifuges!

(Ghadaffi sprays tea on Assad )

But, no-o-o, all these professional comedy dipshits keep telling me Professor Urkel over here is some sort of infidel sacred joke cow. I called up Letterman, and I’m like, Dave how about a couple Obama zingers for the roast tonight? He’s like, “no, no, too controversial. Everybody loves him.” And so I’m like, how about if I just insult America? So he’s like, “yeah, sure, that’s fine.”

Okay then, here’s one: man, that America is one stupid country.

(audience: HOW STUPID IS IT?)

It’s so fucking stupid it elected Barack Obama.

Hey, hey. I kid because I love. In fact, unlike that last mumblemouth infidel asshole, Barack has been a breath of fresh air to the entire evil comedy community. He doesn’t whine about the way we treat broads or homos or journalist hostages or our uranium stockpiles. Nope. He just smiles, and apologizes, and politely asks us to “unclench our fists.” Hey bro, I’d love to, but that’s kinda hard to do when it’s stuck inside your duodenum.

Okay, let’s get this show on the road. Our first roaster comes from England, where she’s the star of a long running one-woman show at the Buckingham Palace Dinner Theater. Ladies and Martyrs, you know her, you hate her, please welcome the Queen of Spleen, Liz Windsor!

(band breaks into God Save the Queen, applause)

Liz Windsor

Thanks for that swell intro, Shecky. By the way, I know how much you love our infidel nuclear technology, but we’ve got another 1940’s invention you should really check out. It’s called deodorant.

(rimshot)

Listen folks, I know you came here expecting me to start hurling some tasteless insults at Barack Obama. But, seriously, I just can’t bring myself to do it. Barack is almost like another son to me.

(audience: awwwww)

Yeah, another jug eared idiot with a hard-on for horsefaced women. Barack was in London a couple weeks ago and rang me up, asked if he could drop by for tea. So he comes in, and I’m thinking, whoa — those Yanks have really stepped up their space program, he’s brought along a real live Klingon. Turns out it was his wife.

(rimshot)

Yep. Then, oh Jesus, in she starts with all the hugging. And I’m like, fer chrissake, somebody hand Lieutenant Worf a planet Earth protocol guide. Then Barack pops off and says, “hey Your Majesty, I brought a gift.” Okay, I’m thinking, car company? Banking system? National Park? Then I open the box. It’s an iPod. A fucking iPod. Preloaded with Barack’s easy listening speech hits.

(stares at Obama amid nervous laughter)

Yeah, way to cement that special relationship, dumbfuck. Jesus Christ, was Wal Mart sold out of Sham Wows? Oh yeah, that iPod is going in the vault with the crown jewels. Right next to that sack of DVDs you bought for Gordy Brown.

Gordon Brown

Now see here, Your Majesty! I thought that was quite thoughtful gesture, and…

Liz Windsor

Oh, shut the fuck up, Gordy. I don’t come to your job and slap Obama’s dick out of your mouth. Listen folks, my time’s up, and this tiara is chafing like a sonuvabitch. Time for me to lie back and think of England. Don’t forget to tip your waitress!

Shecky Ahmedinejad

Liz Tudor everybody! Hey Liz — word to the wise. Stay out of the London subways this summer. By the way, you know the last thing to go through Princess Di’s head?

Liz Windsor

What’s that?

Shecky Ahmedinejad

Her ass. Next up is another monarch who primogenitured his way to the top — give a hand to that Saudi royal with a buttload of oil, King Abdullah!

(applause; ‘Desert Caravan’)

King Abdullah

Thanks everybody! Hey, how about that Shecky Ahmedinejad, ladies and gentleman? What a guy, he’d give you the Zanjeer Zani off his back. Now you know, a lot of people think I got it pretty good being a ruthless hereditary billionaire sitting on top of an ocean of crude oil and the top psycho theme park in the Middle East. But lemme tell you, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. How’d you like to have 37 mothers in-law?

(laughter)

But hey, controlling the world energy supply has its perks. People tend to treat you pretty nice. They offer you thoughtful little gifts and kickbacks. Now, Barack here, for instance, likes to offer blowjobs.

(gasps, ewwws)

What? What? Don’t believe me? Let’s go to the video. Sure, Bush liked holding hands, but he was a total pricktease. But Barack, hey, the guy goes down faster than a fat shaheed on madrassa prom night.

(Putin wipes away tears of laughter as Abdullah slowly pantomimes fellatio)

Now look Barack, I really appreciate the gesture, but regardless of what you might have heard — homie don’t swing that way.

(looks around slowly to banquet table surrounded by burqqa-clad wives)

On the other hand, send me your cell number. I never know when I’ll need a booty call. Good night folks, drive safely! Unless you’re a woman.

Shecky Ahmedinejad

Now that’s what I call crude humor. Our next performer has been called everything from the Andy Kauffman of international relations to the Gilbert Gottfried of the global nuclear club. Gird your loins for the annoying, far-out, certifiably insane comedic stylings of Kim! Jong! Il!

(applause; ‘They’re Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Ha’)

Kim Jong Il

(walks slowly over to Barack Obama and leans into his face)

Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you! Does this bother you? I’m not nuking you!  Does this bother…

Shecky Ahmedinejad

Okay orderlies, cart him away. Jeez, and I thought I was nuts. Let’s bring it down a notch with a set from my dear old friend and original cast member of al-Qaeda’s Friday Night Live, Dr. Ayman al-Zawahiri!

(applause, ‘911 is a Joke’)

Ayman al-Zawahiri

Thank you, thank you. What a panel we got here, huh? I haven’t seen this many sick assholes since I was doing proctology rounds at Cairo General.

(Ahmedinejad spit take)

And there’s our man of the hour, Mr. Barack fuckin’ joke thief Obama. Havin’ fun, buddy?

(Obama smiles nervously)

Listen pal, maybe I live in a cave, but I read the papers. Strafing Manhattan in a 747? Really? In case you didn’t notice, I was doing that routine like eight fucking years ago. I mean, what are you, Carlos fucking Mencia?

(Obama smiles nervously)

What’s the matter? Teleprompter got your tongue?

(Obama smiles nervously)

Holy scimitar, this fuckface couldn’t ad lib a fart. Listen, Barack, I appreciate all the reach-arounds, but if you don’t stop stealing my material I swear to Allah I’m gonna sic a copyright lawyer on your apostate ass. As soon as I can find one who isn’t a Jew. Goodnight folks, you’ve been a great audience! Death to America!

Shecky Ahmedinejad

Ayman al-Zawahiri, everybody! If you’re in Swat this weekend, make sure you catch his act at the Khyber Pass Inn. Our next performer comes from the exotic Orient where he works the Forbidden City Casino. Ladies and Gentleman, the man with the biggest bankroll and smallest dick in international show biz, Mister Hu Jintao!

(applause, ‘Slow Boat to China’)

Hu Jintao

Yeah Confucius say fuck you, you third rate unibrow rug dealer. Don’t make me open a can of one-child-policy on your smelly Persian ass. You’re no Long Dong Wang yourself, and at least mine isn’t covered in camel crap. Hey everybody, how’s it goin’?

(applause)

And how about that Barack Obama. What a prince, huh? The most generous man in show biz.

(applause)

Yep. Generous to a fault. With my money. What? You think all those big tips he throws around come out of his own pocket? Just the other day he called up and said, “hey Hu, how about spotting me a couple trillion till next tax day?” And I’m like, what, does Aunt Esther need another pair of sneakers? And he goes, “no, I got a Social Security payment due.”

I’m like, dude — what happened to that last trillion I lent you? Get this: the stupid fucker spent it on a beat up Cadillac for his union buddies. So I say, look, I’m a little short right now. I’ll catch you at your 30-year treasury bond garage sale. Then the next week he’s like, dude, where were you?” Ah so, round-eye! No tickee, no thirty!

Yeah, that ain’t the half of it. Not only does this asshole expect me to be his personal ATM and pawnshop, he’s always calling up bitching about something. Just the other day, he’s like, “come on Hu, how come you keep busting my balls with your naval drive-bys?” I’m like dude, you’re 3 months overdue on your aircraft carrier payments. Those aren’t Chinese navy boats, those are repo men!

Look folks, I gotta get back home and churn out another load of defective plastic crap for Wal Mart, to make some money, to lend to Barack for some new idiot free bullshit program. Christ, and they call me a Commie! ‘Night everybody, and please remember to thank your designated tank driver.

Shecky Ahmedinejad

Hu Jintao! Toxic Choking Hazard Toy Industry’s Man of the Year, everybody! Hu Jintao. Next we have that crazy Caucasian from across the Caucasus, that Gremlin from the Kremin, 15-time winner of KGB Entertainer of the Year, Vlady Putin!

(applause)

Vlady Putin

Tank yous Shecky! Tank yous very much. Ho boy, it is good to be in America! I love America, is great country. It is land of free! Not like my country. In my country, whole government run by corrupt communist thugs. They ignore the laws. They take over companies and give the money to their friends. America is very totally different! It has 110 volt outlets.

Haha! Vlady make funny everybody! Hey Barack, you teach Vlady how to nationalize the banks, hokay?

Best thing about America is everybody is so very very nice. Especially the President Barack! He is complete pussycat. Pussy, pussy, pussycat. He loves Vlady’s practical jokes. I kick his Air Force out of Kyrgyzstan he say, hokey dokey, Vlady! Then I fly my bombers right over his ships, and he sends fat babushka lady to give me a funny reset button gag gift. I say, hey Barack, what Vlady gotta do to make you mad? He say, “just don’t go to no tea parties, hokay?”

What a country! Because Barack be so nice to me, now I want to sing him a nice American song from the Hoagy Carmichael.

(Vlady pulls out balalaika and tunes up)

Georgia, Geor-or-orgia… no peace can I find… it’s just them old sweet tanks that keep Georgia on my mind.

Tanks everybody! Take it easy on the Vodka!

Shecky Ahmedinejad

Vlady Putin, everyone! Okay, our next performer is a good ol’ country boy from the hills of Waziristan, where he emcees the weekly Grand Ole Stoning show at the Wana Goat Corral. Let’s give it up for Mullah Omar!

(applause; Theme From ‘Deliverance’)

Mullah Omar

Thanks Shecky. When Shecky asked me to do this gig, I was like, what the fuck? Dude, I’m a fucking Taliban, I know as much about comedy as Perez Hilton knows about vaginas. So he says, “don’t worry. I lined up this professional infidel comedian to write your bit.” I’m like, oh yeah? And he’s like, “yeah, her name is Wanda Sykes.” And I’m like, a broad?  And he’s like, “Trust me, Barack loves her. She totally slays the infidels.”

Okay, you know I’m down with that. So then this Wanda shows up at my cave yesterday with a stack of cue cards with her jokes. And I’m like, bitch please — put on a fucking burqqa. So I’m doing the read-through, and every gag is about killing some guy named Rush Limbaugh. So, I’m like, who the fuck is this Limbaugh guy? I thought this gig was supposed to be about Obama. And she goes, “he’s a fat radio Nazi who hates Blacks and Jews and gay people.” And I’m like, hey, sounds like my kinda guy. And she’s like, “exactly!” And I’m like, why would I want to insult somebody I agree with? So she says “because he’s for the war, dumbass.”

And so at this point I’m pretty fucking confused. So I say to her, okay, now I think I get it. This fat guy is funny because (a) he supports Obama’s crusade against us, even though (b) he and I are on the same page, homo-killing-wise. The funny is from the irony or something. And she’s like, “no, idiot! Barack wants to stop the war.” So I’m like, wait a minute… Barack is against the war? Then why is he still running it? Besides, I though he actually likes homos. And she goes, “He does, you retard! That’s why he’s going to end the bombing and leave you alone.”

Now I’m even more confused. So I go, look Wanda, maybe I’m not up on your infidel inside jokes, but this material is really gonna bomb in front of a shaheed audience. So she gives me that look and says, “okay, you cracker ass cracker, why don’t you show me what you people think is funny?” Long story short..

(Omar reaches down behind podium and pulls out Wanda Sykes’ head)

Hey Wanda…here’s your sign.

Alluha Akbar, y’all!

(Omar walks back to his seat, tosses the head to Hugo Chavez who puts it on his hand, muppet style)

Hugo Chavez

Saright?

Wanda Sykes’ Head

Saright!

(Abdullah falls out chair in helpless laughter; Fidel Castro stares in comatose deadpan)

Shecky Ahmedinejad

Mullah Omar, everybody! Now that’s why they call him the king of prop comedy!

Okay folks. Now, it’s time to hear from the man who’s been sitting here all evening, silently absorbing all our insults. Here’s his chance to get a little payback! Ladies and Dictators, please welcome our esteemed man of the hour, leader of the infidel world, and the only man in the room who doesn’t realize he’s way over his head — President Barack Obama!

(standing ovation; ‘Hail to the Chief’)

Barack Obama

Lemme tell ya, I don’t get any respect.

(torrential screams of convulsive uncontrollable sustained laughter; Sarkozy falls backwards in chair; Omar wipes tears away while shooting AK47 into air; Abdullah pantomimes fellatio; Castro stares comatose; Vlady pilots toy airplane above Obama’s head; Kim and Shecky take turns punching gag missile launch button; Jon Stewart mugs look of horror)

Shecky Ahmedinejad

That’s all the time we have tonight! Thanks to all the performers, and Barack Obama for being such a good sport. See you at the next Rat Pack of Evil roast, when we move to the fabulous Boom Boom Room at the Radioactive Crater Resort in Downtown Jerusalem! Goodnight 12th Imam, wherever you are!

Ah yes… I can see it now… bedtime at Buckingham Palace…  The Queen emerges from her powder room after her nightly ablutions and gently pads across the oriental carpet in her pink, fuzzy slippers to the edge of her royal bed.  She calls to her maidservant, “Fatima, my dear, before I retire would you fetch me my video iPod?  Not the old one, but the new one I just got from Barry and Michelle.”  “Of course, your Highness,” she replies, quickly exiting the Royal Suite.  Moments later Fatima returns, reverently cradling the radiant object in her hands.  Tenderly taking it from her, the Queen puts in the royal iPod ear buds.  Then, Fatima helps her out of her slippers and into the massive bed, making sure that the goose-down pillows are properly fluffed.  Finally, Fatima places the Royal night-cap on the Queen’s head, and, as the Queen snuggles further into her down comforter, Fatima bids her a pleasant “Good night.”  

Alone now, and with the lights dimmed, the Queen – trembling with anticipation – switches on the iPod and begins to watch the previously loaded photos of the magnificent spectacle of President Obama’s Inauguration. Her eyes wide with delight, she gasps in wonder as Senator Obama places his hand on the Bible and is transformed into President Obama.  Then, warm and cozy in her palace bed, a smile of enchantment on her royal face, the magnificent words of President Obama’s Inauguration speech lull the Queen into a blissful and untroubled sleep. “Change… Hope… Change… Change…change….”

I am not a huge fan of rap music. It is not the top rack choice on my iPod, and yet, I can appreciate its contribution to music and pop culture. Very few of the top 40 songs today don’t have at least a small rap section in bridge of the song.  It has now been over thirty years since rap made the leap from the inner city streets to the top of the pop charts, so it’s not going away anytime soon.

All of Ben’s complaints were once said about rock and roll: lack of melody and harmony, overemphasis on rhythm, vulgar, overly sexual lyrics… Rock and roll was also called a corrupter of youth and predictions of it’s quick demise abounded. There were record burnings and organized protests against this Satan music, and today, footage of these protests are viewed comedically. Do we really want this stigma attached to Republicans any longer?  Are we tired of being the punchline yet?

And it doesn’t matter if the stars of rap are bad influences on children. Please. What pop star has EVER been a good influence on children? Most of them are drug addicts with dysfunctional relationships, regardless of what kinds of music they play.  I know there have been a few decent people, but they are the rare exceptions. Pop stars are paid enormous amounts of cash to be over-grown children, but that should have no bearing on their art.  The criminal antics of rap musicians speak no more about the destructive nature of the music than the conduct of Boy George or George Michael reflect on eighties pop.

Yes, rap is crude, vulgar, violent, makes reference to drug use, and is demeaning to women, but so is ‘South Park,’ and very few conservatives are willing to take a stand against ‘South Park.’  Why are we so willing to accept the bad stuff in a cartoon, but rail against it in rap music? (I think we are opening ourselves for accusations of racism if we don’t accept both.)

You might not like rap music. I don’t blame you.  I had to force myself to listen to it before I was able to appreciate it.  But it wasn’t meant for old men like me–it is written for younger generations.

Every generation in modern history has been able to find a type of music that makes the older people cringe. In part, that is why they like it so much.  Someone once said the best way to keep your kids from listening to rap is to start listening to it yourself. Drive around your hood with the windows down and Fifty Cent thumping out of the mini van and your kids will soon avoid it like the plague.

Eventually that’s what happens to every form of pop music: it mainstreams, and the next generation is forced to find something new and toxic. The Beatles started as radicals but eventually were covered by Lawrence Welk. Just the other day I was on an elevator in Downtown Chicago and it started playing an instrumental version of “Smells like Teen Spirit” over the loudspeaker. I thought it was cool, but listening to it like that for the first time, I felt really old. And I could tell the thirty-five-year-old girl next to me with the faded tattoos underneath her business suit did too. I actually think she started to tear up a little.

Instead of becoming this generation’s up tight pantywaists, we should be looking for common ground between the rap culture and ourselves. Isn’t that kind of what Big Hollywood originally set out to do: find common ground between conservatives and pop culture?  Because, I think there is a lot of common ground. After all, we both have a fascination with guns and a distrust of government.

And we both get a big kick out of making politically incorrect jokes. For the most part, rap lyrics are intended to be funny. And when you become incensed, you’re letting on that you didn’t get the joke.

Don’t do that. It makes us ALL look bad.