O! the Rapture!

Compare and contrast:

Sure the South Koreans have food and freedom. But North Korea has something that totally wipes them off the map (figuratively, not literally, at least as I’m writing this). The Great Leader, the Sun of the Nation and of Mankind: Kim Jong Il. Put aside any notions you may have about the man. Put aside his lust for nukes, a penchant to torture and starve his people and the funky glasses. These things are irrelevant. The simple fact is this: Kim Jong Il is the greatest golfer in the history of, well, history. According to North Korea’s crack research department, the diminutive dictator shot a 34 his first time golfing. And no, not at mini-golf, at a championship, par-72 course. He drilled home 11 holes-in-one in his miraculous 34-under round and reportedly still shoots in the low 50s, though at 60-plus years of age, his holes in ones are down to four or five a round. So cheer on the South Korean women if you like, just remember that to the north there is a golfer that can handily beat them all. Or at least he would if he could get his hands on them.

"Hi, how’s it going?“ asks Obama in his deep voice. My heart beats. "Very good, and you?" I say. Obama replies: "Very good, thank you!" Obama (with toned arms and a strong back) puts on his headphones for his iPod to listen to pop music. He hums quietly. Then he jumps on a fitness bike. He pushes three times on the pedals – but then can’t be bothered with it. He goes and picks up a pair of 16 kilo weights and starts curling them with his left and right arms, 30 repetitions on each side. Then, amazingly, he picks up the 32 kilo weights! Very slowly he lifts them, first 10 curls with his right, then 10 with his left. He breathes deeply in and out and takes a sip of water from his 0,5 litre Evian bottle. Shortly before five o’clock Obama comes over and sits directly next to my cross-trainer on the mat. First he does 10 sit-ups, then stretches. Then he looks at his watch and says to his bodyguard: “It’s time, let’s go.” Quickly I ask: “Mr. Obama, could I take a photo?”. “Of course!” he answers, before asking my name and coming over to stand next to me. “My name’s Judith” I reply. "I’m Barack Obama, nice to meet you!” he says, and puts his arm across my shoulder. I put my arm around his hip – wow, he didn’t even sweat! WHAT A MAN!

Just what is it with these zombies? Do they think a set-up story about a lonely woman who can afford to work out at the Ritz-Carlton (and one apparently rather horny for a bland politico at that) who resorts to stalking political candidates is supposed to endear Europe to Americans?

Who does Bild think this feeble item is supposed to bring to political orgasm? Are we to believe that a Senator is so negligent of his duties that he has time to work his way up to being able to swing two supposedly real 72 lb. weights that she implies are free-weights?
Gee, not bad for 46 year old a smoker. Having seen men with muscles and joints of that vintage try this in the gym, I’m impressed at his stellar, superhuman qualities, truly. It recalls images of Leni Riefenstahl hero-making. The guys I’ve seen trying that end up calling their wives to come pick them up down the block, and just out of sight of anyone who saw them crawl out at best speed without changing back into their street clothes. I mean we really do have a mythical Beowulf-meets-Jesus-Christ kind of guy here. One attempted implication the the previous Barack-workout videos being that he could have plucked Mohammed Atta out of the sky with his bare hands, and that other pilot guy, whoever he is, wouldn’t be able to do a thing! NOT one THING, I tell ya... As for me, I’ll stick with the guy who knows when and when not to fire a missile, both literally and in the context of international policy.

And without someone spotting him, at that? Perhaps she’s too modest to mention him parting the seas, and making the loaves into protein bars, or the water into... bottled water.

It’s obviously a posed story that didn’t get cleared with even the provisional wing of the democratic party, where some German imagined him or herself so clued in by his prejudices as to what would sell in the US that this painfully awkward and childish stunt.

On another note, the same story in an completely different form appeared last night on Deutsche Welle Radio, lacking the tumultuous back arching, orgasm induced tears, and overt moaning. In other words, an unsophisticated attempt was made to package it using a Bild reporter positioning it one way for DW and another way for her own paper.

Keep up the good work there, Bonesky. Americans can come a step closer to being certain that Obama is so many things, that he’s a marionette of his handlers and a PR sleazebag’s fabrication - and that political outreach can be reduced to thinly veiled allusions to niche porn style “character blocking.” The sort where women, (possibly of a certain age,) who perhaps seems a lot like the ones drawn to Hillary Clinton, can dream of getting physical and imagine themselves possibly cuckolding some of what hung-up European simpletons imagine is forbidden fruit... Or some other unstated meta-crypto-political under-the-radar horseshit that most Wellesley grads are only good for at this point.

Either way, its drawing howls out of Americans, and the laughs seem to be on Judith, an entertainment and puff-piece writer for a trashy German tabloid who managed to pull off one decent stunt in her life that might get her away from doing page-six hoochie articles.

No doubt, my theory that this could be some sort of solo attempt at unstated meta-crypto-politics-under-the-radar horseshit or VHS-quality niche porn will draw “thoughtful reflection”, but it’s the only thing trash like this deserves. To give you a taste of what level of journalistic brilliance we’re dealing with here: today, Bild’s lead is a story about Annie Lennox dying her hair blond.

The Pulitzer committee must be struggling with their feelings at this point.