It was his grand moment. It was his grand stage.
And Barack Obama unleashed an aurora borealis of a speech in accepting the Democratic presidential nomination last night.
His oratory was a terrific testimony to the intoxicating power of eloquent expression.
His virtuoso performance was one of matchless splendor and spectacle in a stadium of unfailing theater.
Obama flexed his muscles, demonstrating that the Democrats aren’t just the party of Oprah. Obama took it to George W. Bush and John McCain with an aggression that rose like summer heat off two-lane blacktop.
We all know Obama has the style. The perplexing question is does he have the substance? He truly is a galvanizing figure. But can he deliver us from the evil of the past eight years? If we follow him, will it lead us all to the promised land? Or will we all succumb to a siren song?
Looking for the answers figures to be one helluva adventure.
Looking for a candlelit oasis in the dark night that is Reading’s acute poverty?
Well, some of our town’s residents have substantial unreported income.
Which means subtract a percentage point or two from the census figure that almost 35 percent of our city’s population lives below the poverty level.
The Democrats seem trapped on yesterday’s treadmill.
Unless they want Barack Obama left in a crumpled heap come November, they have to swab him in fervent support and forget they ever knew the Clintons.
Once Hillary and Bill address the convention, they need to leave the stage. The Kennedys have heeded the time for their swan song and now it’s time for the Clintons to hear the music, too.
Granted, if the voters in the fall don’t dig Obama’s shtick, Hillary will be brandishing the big Democratic stick.
I’m not all that big on hair since I don’t have an abundance of it.
Of course, in my mind’s eye I have a bunch of blond, surfer curls. Unfortunately, in my mirror’s eye I have thinning blond hair that loves to stand at attention in the morning. Perhaps to salute the flag or something. I guess I have patriotic hair.
Which brings me to another patriot with hair issues: Joe Biden, he of the coyote ugly hairline. If Biden had been at the Battle of Little Bighorn, the Sioux would not have even bothered to scalp him. What Indian warrior would want Biden’s scalp on his teepee trophy case?
Biden, of course, wasn’t at Little Bighorn since he already was the senator from Delaware by that time. He began representing Delaware moments after Washington crossed the Delaware. And now he’s Barack Obama’s running mate.
Somebody please alert the Division of Trivia, please. The Democratic ticket is the first in history to feature a black and a hair transplant survivor. You can look it up.
By the way, picking Biden means Obama was only kidding when he began crying for change months ago. Biden is such a Washington insider even his pancreas gets invited to all the right parties. The only thing this guy changes is his underwear.
As the presidential election grinds on, it will be interesting to see how Biden’s hair holds up. If the Dems are smart, they won’t let him campaign on windy days.
Technology sometimes is just so-much linguini to me. I love the convenience that technology affords me. But I would love the comfort even more if I could afford my own 24/7 personal techie to operate all the gadgets and gizmos for me. My affinity for new-fangled contraptions pretty much peaked with the transistor radio.
Hence, I don’t always embrace new technology like I would Miss Universe if given the opportunity.
But I would make a major exception for a wireless electric power system that is extensive, affordable, safe and efficient.
Such a system would free us all from the bondage of power cords, outlets, chargers and batteries. We no longer would be tethered to the literal lines of electricity. Electric juice, like oxygen, would be everywhere for us to gulp in whole swallows.
Intel on Thursday displayed a wireless electric power system that could unplug us all. Since it’s still in an early stage of development, we need to divert tons of funding to accelerate matters. Forget repairing bridges, building the Route 222 North bypass, the war in Iraq, the poor, the ill and other bottomless pits that suck up money as if it were Crown Royal.
I need this wireless electric power system to be in place for the Christmas holidays. Putting up my Christmas tree and lights always puts me in a killer funk because I never seem to have enough extension cords and plugs.
Get cracking, all you Intel nerds.
What’s with all the sports hernias on the Eagles? Are they doing too much heavy lifting? Are they hoisting Andy Reid away from the dinner table?
Wideout Kevin Curtis is the latest Bird with the affliction and his surgery likely will put him on the proverbial shelf until October or so.
I think the Eagles need another wideout. Rookie DeSean Jackson is a flyer, but why not have two receivers who can run holes through the wind?
If I’m Reid, I’m all over Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt, the Olympic champ and world record holder in the 100 and 200 meters.
Such a signing would simplify Reid’s playbook, which is thicker than his gut.
The Eagles would need just one play: Go long!
Granted, Donovan McNabb might blow out his shoulder throwing all those deep balls.
Meanwhile, kick back, listen to some Bob Marley and pretend you’re enjoying some reefer gladness.
It’s good news to hear the city won’t jump into the pool with master(?) developer/(pipe?)dreamer Fast Eddie Giannasca II.
Rather, officials prefer to dip their toes one at a time into the reservoir-deep $2.8 billion RiverView development on Reading’s south side.
The city wants to proceed in small parts so the whole town doesn’t suddenly submerge like some scuttled giant gondola in the Schuylkill River.
A prudent move, it says here. And just when did King Solomon join the administration? Crack City Hall reporter/gumshoe Don Spatz must have missed that scoop.
In fact, prudence dictates the city allow Giannasca to build only one room per month for the first year. After all, the onus is on Giannasca to give a good accounting of himself so he can gain the faith of our city fathers.
Lord, what hath Henry Ford wrought?
The dude who brought the automobile to America, more or less, would be rolling over in the back seat of his Model-T if he saw the traffic jams on Route 222 north of Reading these days.
Now with PennDOT stalking about like trolls underneath all the Three Billy Goats Gruff bridges in the state, it looks like we’re never gotta get that bypass to alleviate the suffocating congestion in Ontelaunee Township.
For Berks Countians, this is a bigger kick in the pants than having the Rockettes’ revue practice on our behinds.
Fellow blogger Al Walentis has his own POV on the matter, but I’m suggesting we all move to Montana. Pronto! The only congestion they have in Montana is in their arteries, the way life should be. Here in Berks the traffic jams could give even a guy with Lysol-clean arteries a coronary.
Michael Phelps transfixed the world last week as the greatest pool shark who has ever lived. He gave swimming a pulse-racing dimension that even people who only go near the water in the shower could relate to.
He deserves his global acclaim because he made the biggest splash on the world’s biggest stage.
This guy gobbles up gold medals like sharks gobble up limbs. If you crop his hair extra close you’ll probably find some gills.
And now some folks are delivering in the solemn tones of scripture the gospel that Michael Phelps is the greatest Olympian, if not athlete, of all time.
I think people who think Phelps is the greatest athlete of all time have chlorine on the brain.
And now that everybody in Beijing is out of the pool, we need to introduce some perspective to Phelps’ Great Haul of China.
Swimmers, gymnasts and fencers, by the nature of their sports and Olympic schedules, can bag enough medals to stock a pirate’s treasure chest. Other sports don’t afford their competitors with as many multiple opportunities.
While we can engulf Phelps in the mystique of aquatic greatness, the world’s greatest athlete has to be more than just a fish. He or she has to be a mammal who can excel on land.
Granted, swimmers need plenty of buoyancy, strength, speed, technique and endurance. But their required skill sets don’t include such vital athletic ingredients as hand-eye coordination, reflexes, agility, dexterity, flexibility, lateral quickness, foot speed, jumping ability and vision.
I’m not sure who the greatest athlete of all time is. It could be Jim Thorpe, Jim Brown, Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, Babe Ruth, Willie Mays, Babe Zacharias, whoever the Olympic decathlon champion happens to be, Carl Lewis, Bo Jackson, Deion Sanders or fill in the blank.
Just don’t fill in that blank with a motorsports driver or a golfer (even Tiger Woods) or a fighter (even Muhammad Ali) or a swimmer (Phelps or Mark Spitz).
I grew up watching moves starring The Marx Brothers and The Three Stooges.
But I’m finding George W. Bush to be even more hysterical.
In case you missed it because you are fixated on the Olympics and human fish Michael Phelps, Georgia and Russia are involved in a little bit of a tiff.
By the way, this Georgia is the country. Not the top-ranked preseason college football team also known as Georgia.
Bush is a Georgia fan and is demanding Russia punt.
He actually said that “bullying and intimidation are not acceptable ways to conduct foreign policy in the 21st century.”
The world’s belly laughs are resonating all the way to Iraq.