I score it for Pajama Boy

Another day, another Obamacare stiff knocked the hell out. You liberal fanatics keep pushing these wimps into the ring, Charles C. W. Cooke keeps sending ’em right back out on a stretcher. When will you learn? When will it stop? And what of ‘fiasco’ do you not understand? By the way, this one . .


. . yeah. He’s a nice kid, pretty kid, but Charlie don’t know whether to fuck him or fight him:

And now, courtesy of Organizing for Action, we have Pajama Boy, a metrosexual hipster in a plaid onesie who wants you to spend your precious Christmas days talking to him about the president’s vision for health insurance.

Get a load of that mess. Courtesy the president, this weirdo’s about to ruin your Christmas. Any minute now he’ll launch into a “dialogue about the evils of heteronormativity or micro-aggressions” and nobody wants to hear that. Nobody normal, that is. He looks like one of those “liberal-arts students at Oberlin,” where, Charles informs us, the “League of Nations Union is now the Queer Students Assocation.” How’s that? So look out you readers at National Review:

Pajama Boy has evidently managed not only to get into the warmth of your house to do his proselytizing, but to make himself a cup of hot chocolate and to get into his bedtime clothes to boot . . These, suffice it to say, are people you do not want quartered anywhere near you.

We take it for granted that’s exactly the message Obama was trying to get to the people, that he’ll be boarding flesh-and-blood human beings in your houses a week from Wednesday. Otherwise Charles would only be engaging in a bit of shadow-boxing, and Jesus knows National Review writers never do that.

But if I may distill Charlie here, the point would be that the problem with this mutant outreach (actually it’s the big problem with Obamacare, as it is with Obama) is that it knows nothing about real people. The Obots are clueless as to who qualifies for actual Americans – the folks they’ve now got to convince or cajole if they’re to save this presidency from epic disaster. About this I’m not guessing, Cooke declares it right in the middle of his screed:

The harsh truth is that the advertising machine behind the Obama administration seems not to really know what normal human beings are like.

And that’s why it’s doomsville for Barack, et.al. I mean, who features this sort of fay freak in an ad? It’s hilarious, if it’s not disturbing. Pathetic. I’d say this Jobs/Urkel trog is the sort of thing that only another troll would dream up.

Because Pajama Boy is OFA; and OFA is Pajama Boy. The vaguely androgynous, student-glasses-wearing, Williamsburg hipster isn’t a clever marketing idea. It is the id of the Obama machine made public. Of course he’s made it onto the propaganda.

Because the propagandist featured his turbo-geek self in the ad. If that isn’t the height of narcissism, you’d think. No wonder Charles sits there, staring at the slobbering misfits and spazzes of this martian administration and tearing his hair out. Nobody – I mean nobody – is really like this…

My former National Review colleague Dan Foster once rather depressingly suggested to me that The Big Bang Theory’s star geek, Leonard Hofstadter, was far from the loser that he needs to be for the joke to work, but instead the “voice of our generation.”

. . except for somebody who isn’t normal, at least Cooke-wise. He might be the voice of someone’s generation if we’re to take a National Review confidante seriously. And now Jesus Christ they appear to be running the government, much in the same lame way that MSNBC runs your life.

Pajama Boy is, as Obama might put it, a composite character: part Chris Hayes, part Rachel Maddow, part Lena Dunham. One of the funnier photoshops from last night features the caption, “Mommy said I could stay up late tonight.” If so, he isn’t waiting for PBS to broadcast the boobs and bad language on imported British comedies, as overgrown children once did; he’s ignoring his bedtime to ensure the Howard Zinn special on All In records properly.

And we don’t have to guess that it’s really Charles who stays up late at night, to see if he programmed his TV properly for new episodes of “Duck Dynasty” . .

. . because we all know that nerds can do that sort of thing in their sleep. And I think I’m getting a whiff of the real reason why Mr. Normal is pissed off. Then there’s the original, primordial freak – the woman on the pop-up page of the pre-jiggered ACA site:

. . Adriana, the painfully neutral and carefully ambi-racial stock-model-from-everywhere whose face became so synonymous with HealthCare.gov’s hilarious launch that she had to be replaced with a graphic plugging an 800 number.

Remember her? The one that looked painfully like a maybe Native Latina Asian Pacific Islander American? Charles was hip to that ruse: This is a blatant overture to ethnic people. There’s just no fooling the guy. Though he dug up the actual model’s actual name, don’t try to tell him that she’s “what normal human beings are like.” There’s no point in trying that because, like her internet image, she’s neither Caucasian nor male. And what about this?

In Colorado, when OFA-wannabe group, ProgressNowColorado, was charged with selling the law to young people, it drew on the worst of cartoons. All the women were sluts; all the men were idiots; all the girls were playing extremely violent sports.

All of them. Sluts, idiots and bruisers:

Have you ever seen such monsters? No wonder Charlie’s upset – not one of the bunch appears to be sitting at a computer terminal, trying to convince the world that it’s full of losers. Look at them, my friends. That’s just not what normal human beings are like.

Speaking of grotesquery, did you hear the one about the election of 2012? Where the nerdy black guy kicked the homo-basher’s lily white ass from coast to coast? Poppy Perfect refused to reach out to about half of America because the flunkies were beneath the dignity of his campaign. Which meant he never had a fighting chance. So the modern world yawned, and it kindly returned him to a life of fabulous wealth, casual indifference and obscurity. He made for a proud and a handsome loser, and for that we congratulate everybody involved.

We’re no longer a nation of just white-male people. What we have become are public freaks and fays, all around, above and below, for better and worse. I suppose for some people there are academic points to be made here about the Obama administration not being what we once used to call real Americans. But then whose to say who, or what, that really is? The entire history of the country is essentially the destruction of this conceit, and I’m glad for that. I’m certainly not now going to take any prodding over it from Charles C.W. Cooke, the toff from Cambridge, England.


2 thoughts I score it for Pajama Boy

  1. avatar neoconstantine says:

    Poncy toff is the preferred term at Cambridge.

  2. avatar toma says:

    Duly noted. Or, jooly noted.

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