Barack Obama rivals George H.W. Bush as the WASPiest-acting President of my lifetime, vacationing on Martha’s Vineyard, playing golf, and reading Marilynne Robinson novels about Congregationalist ministers.
But, if he were Brooke Osborne instead of Barack Obama, would he have ever been considered Presidential Timber?
Would anybody have ever even noticed him? Of course not.
Among people with a mellifluous prose style, Obama is not the most perceptive observer, but he’s got that figured out, as shown by naming his autobiography after the deadbeat African father he barely knew.
America’s default affection for the underdog has morphed into a toxic reflexive admiration for the loser.
The whole point about the underdog was that you were cheering him to win, though.
And winning isn’t acceptable in our “participation ribbon” culture.