Too Much Love Killing Obama’s Chances in Midterm Elections

By | October 10, 2010

I’m just the pieces of the man I used to be
Too many bitter tears are raining down on me
I’m far away from home
And I’ve been facing this alone
For much too long
– Queen Guitarist Brian May

Too Much Love Will Kill You

The story goes that Brian May was watching TV in his living room when Poof! Freddie Mercury appears from out of nowhere. Brian, both shocked and startled, cries “Freddie! How did you manage that?” To which Freddie replies “Well little did you know, Brian, but I practiced in the ancient art of voodoo for many years on the QT.” Brian, confused, says “Voodoo, Freddie? What’s Voodoo?” Freddie answered “It’s A Kind of Magic…”

During the 2008 election cycle Barack Obama had a kind of magic, too. But it didn’t last. Yes, Obama is now just the pieces of the man he used to be – and we’re really broken up about it. Carefully molded from childhood by his socialist masters, Obama was raised up for the role in which he currently stars – or more precisely, the role in which he most recently starred. Note the past tense. It was like a fairy tale. As a young lad, Obama was enrolled at the prestigious Punahou School in Hawaii. Punahou, a private college preparatory school, was also the scene of Obama’s initiation into drug abuse, what Obama described as his “greatest moral failure.” We beg to differ, Obama. You’ve had bigger moral failures since then – More about that later.

Obama proceeded on to Occidental College, Columbia University, and Harvard Law School. At each school he dipped ever deeper into the morass of revolutionary socialist doctrine. By the time he reached the Illinois State Senate he had perfected the practice of voting “present.” His elections to the United States Senate and then as President of the United States were seen as evidence of a rising star in the liberal galaxy. He was hailed as the Messiah, a man sent to redeem mankind from conservative politics. He stood upon the waters and the ocean receded. He stretched forth his arms and the earth was healed. We were blessed by his very presence. Every time Obama deigned to open his mouth there was another triumph for communism. He burped and voila! ObamaCare was born. He belched, and financial regulation was overhauled. He farted, and mortgages were subsidized, distilled upon us like the very dews from Heaven.

But then a funny thing happened on his way to The Lap of The Gods. Obama, a legend in his own mind, kept strutting his stuff for all to see. But the man who considered himself greater than Freddie Mercury and thought his voice superior to Freddie’s, soon began to slide in the charts. Bitter tears began to rain down upon him. There were rumors about him and Larry Sinclair that allegedly…well, you know, unsubstantiated involved a Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy. And then there was another rumor involving Vera Baker, that allegedly, uh…not going there either. And then, far away from home in Kenya, Indonesia, or wherever the Hell he was spawned, Barry allegedly had an interview with the famous music critic, PolarCoug. The rest was history.

PolarCoug: “Barry, I served with Freddie Mercury, I knew Freddie Mercury. Freddie Mercury was a friend of mine. Barry, you’re no Freddie Mercury!”

Obama: “That was really uncalled for, PolarCoug.”

PolarCoug: “You are the one that was making the comparison, Barry – and I’m one who knew him well, and frankly I think you are so far apart in the tunes you choose to be measured by that I did not think the comparison was well-taken.”

The rest was history. The man with apparent perfect pitch was revealed to his vast audience as merely a Freddie wannabe, singing to his teleprompter, which kept crashing at the most inopportune moments. And before long, another one bit the dust.

I feel like no-one ever told the truth to me
About growing up and what a struggle it would be
In my tangled state of mind
I’ve been looking back to find
Where I went wrong
– Queen Guitarist Brian May

Where you went wrong, Barry? Sheesh. Like you gotta’ ask.

Barry came from a dysfunctional family and now he has created one of his own. Just an aside, but Hitler came from a dysfunctional family, too. Perhaps Barry felt like a Dog with a Bone. Perhaps his sex poodle is just Stone Cold Crazy.

Too much love will kill you
If you can’t make up your mind
Torn between the lover
And the love you leave behind
– Queen Guitarist Brian May

It can really be hard making up your mind, can’t it Barry? Just ask our troops in Afghanistan about it while you were dithering on the surge. Guys were dying while you tried to leverage the issue into political points. And then finally, belatedly, you decided that The Show Must Go On.

You’re headed for disaster
‘cos you never read the signs
Too much love will kill you
Every time
– Queen Guitarist Brian May

Coming right at ya’ Barry. November 2nd. Mark it on your calendar. And two years later you’ll be Sleeping On The Sidewalk along with all of your groupies.

I’m just the shadow of the man I used to be
And it seems like there’s no way out of this for me
I used to bring you sunshine
Now all I ever do is bring you down
– Queen Guitarist Brian May

No kidding! Nobody even wants you to campaign for them! You bring down anybody you come into contact with, Barry. You’re positively radioactive. Whatever, Barry, I know you hate the outdoors, but the Rain Must Fall.

How would it be if you were standing in my shoes
Can’t you see that it’s impossible to choose
No there’s no making sense of it
Every way I go I’m bound to lose
– Queen Guitarist Brian May

Correctomundo, Barry. You’re a loser. It’s time for the Hammer To Fall.

Too much love will kill you
Just as sure as none at all
It’ll drain the power that’s in you
Make you plead and scream and crawl
And the pain will make you crazy
You’re the victim of your crime
Too much love will kill you
Every time
– Queen Guitarist Brian May

The midterm elections are upon you, Barry. Remember how you told the congressional Dems that they would all get re-elected if only they would vote for ObamaCare? Didn’t quite work out as planned, did it Barry. They’re all pleading and screaming and crawling to the finish line, aren’t they, Barry. Yeah, the pain will make you crazy, Barry.  You’re the victim of your own crimes. Now you are stuck in somebody’s backyard with your buddy Joe Biden, and you’re asking yourselves, Is This The World We Created?

Too much love will kill you
It’ll make your life a lie
Yes, too much love will kill you
And you won’t understand why
You’d give your life, you’d sell your soul
But here it comes again
Too much love will kill you
In the end…
– Queen Guitarist Brian May

You gave up your life in the quest for communism, Barry. You sold your soul for a shot at fundamentally transforming America. BOHICA, Barry. Here it comes again. Like Barney Frank would probably tell you…too much love will kill you…IN THE END.  But try to endure it, Barry, because Pain Is So Close to Pleasure, and the end is coming on November 2nd.

In the end. – Queen Guitarist Brian May

This time, we’ve got you, Barry. We’re going to roll right over you in a few days, Barry. Heck, if she were still around we would Tie Your Mother Down. It is going to be downright glorious, Barry. These are the days of our lives. We’re sorry about that, Barry. We know you are Under Pressure. But, so what, Barry. Who needs you? You know what, Barry. You Don’t Fool Me.  You Take My Breath Away with your lies, Barry. I will never be able to think that You’re My Best Friend.

You, lie, Barry. You Liar!

Ronald Reagan was the best politician of our age. Bambi is not in that league. Get out and vote, America! Freedom is coming to a ballot box near you on November 2nd, 2010.

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