"Katie bar the door, let's just go in and knock out Syria."
Please read this somewhat laborious, but pleasantly short article in The Hill.
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Obama's invocation comes from familiar ground. His understanding of the term "Katie Bar the Door" differs from various Olde English and other literary suggestions and deductions about the expression's origins. That is because Obama is child of the moment. He knows nothing of true history or literature. Because of that, El Gringo Veijo knows that the below-listed "poem" is Obama's idea of "Katy Bar the Door".
It is from this union hall "poem - saloon drinking song" that Obama draws his ridiculous command...a command that is totally inappropriate to Charlie Rose's oddly and surprisingly penetrating and sceptical interview of the secular messiah:
When I graduated high school
College not my scene
So I got a job at home for me
Feeling good about my opportunity.
It's got benefits and decent pay... but they say
We hit a stalemate, looks bleak for us
We hit a stalemate, looks bleak for us
A strike or lock-out or wholesale bust
Think to myself what a hell of a start.
The "poem" is bad enough. It would take Woody Guthrie to go ahead and vocally embalm it....or maybe Linda Ronstadt. But, please read the interview in The Hill....it reveals a person for whom the application of the term "lightweight" would be a serious injury to the word "lightweight". Obama rambles, incoherent, condescending, dismissive, and at times seemingly unable to understand the simply-stated questions. At first, El Gringo Viejo thought that perhaps Obama was only trying to bluff and filibuster, and thereby run out the clock on the President's "busy schedule". It became increasingly apparent, however, that Obama was trying to tie together thoughts, intuitions, notions, and dogma, but found his brain on the floor of the La Brea Tar Pits. He was certainly no match for Charlie Rose, who finally decided to act out the part of journalist with a bit of seriousness.
As we file down to Kate's Tavern
Katie, bar the door, we are jumping off the rails
Katie, bar the door, we are jumping off the rails
Any hope for calm went John B. Sails
We're in your pub tonight to sing of good days left behind.
And raise a glass to better times.
The rumor mill's dispelled the official word comes down
They're gonna move our jobs real far away
Settle to another country where mistreatment for the workers is so commonplace.
The judge says "We cannot stop them, they're free to go"
The judge says "We cannot stop them, they're free to go"
He looks me in the eyes he says, "I can't help you son."
Whatever happened to America?
Whatever happened to America?
She was sold twenty-six xxxxxx' long years ago.
Katie, bar the door, we are jumping off the rails
Any hope for calm went John B. Sails
We're in your pub tonight to sing of good days left behind
And raise a glass to better times.
Hey, Hey, Hey, HeyHey, Hey, Hey, Hey
Why sing about the unions again?
They have all died away.
We are now in the midst of a brand new world economy.
I don't believe them, I won't despair
They are regrouping, they're coming back to stay
Twelve per cent can climb back up to fifty per cent
Once again, my friend, a message we'll send.
Katie, bar the door, we are jumping off the rail.
Any hope for calm went John B. Sails
We're in your pub tonight to sing of good days left behind
And raise a glass to better times.
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The "poem" is bad enough. It would take Woody Guthrie to go ahead and vocally embalm it....or maybe Linda Ronstadt. But, please read the interview in The Hill....it reveals a person for whom the application of the term "lightweight" would be a serious injury to the word "lightweight". Obama rambles, incoherent, condescending, dismissive, and at times seemingly unable to understand the simply-stated questions. At first, El Gringo Viejo thought that perhaps Obama was only trying to bluff and filibuster, and thereby run out the clock on the President's "busy schedule". It became increasingly apparent, however, that Obama was trying to tie together thoughts, intuitions, notions, and dogma, but found his brain on the floor of the La Brea Tar Pits. He was certainly no match for Charlie Rose, who finally decided to act out the part of journalist with a bit of seriousness.
Perhaps Father Obamaham was simply looking forward to his upcoming 100,000,000 USD pilgrimage to the ancestral land....and he was trying to remember the melody and perhaps even the lyrics of that old hit, "Faith of Our Fathers" (linkage below).
As always, we genuinely appreciate the time each OROG invests of his/her life with the simple ramblings of an old cowboy.
El Gringo Viejo
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