Pixie dust blues

Who is that masked superhero zoooming across the country on treacherous adventures to save the Democratic damsel? It’s President Obama, in a desperate attempt to erase the midterm election enthusiasm gap. Two words: good luck. We’re talking about a chasm that makes the Grand Canyon seem but a crack in the sidewalk. Wider than the space between Christine O’Donnell’s ears. The difference between my understanding of international cheese derivatives and a gold receipt spindle.

The problem is, the Right is as fired up as a homecoming bonfire, while the Left is walking around with their collective chins scraping the ground like a squad of cheerleaders who got dumped en masse by the football team Friday before the Big Dance. The situation has become so dire that the Administration decided to slap its followers upside the head with a big old dose of Tough Love, altering its signature philosophy from Hope and Change to Scold and Chide.

In Madison, Wisconsin, Prez 44 challenged a rally of 25,000 supporters to buck up and quit their bellyaching the day after Vice President Biden yelled at a group of New Hampshire Democrats to stop whining. Experts are split as to whether this strategy of berating the base is an effective incentive or the reckless last ditch longshot of a party splintered like a picnic table factory after a direct hit from a SCUD. Or just plain dumb. That, too, is a possibility.

The Disciples are disappointed with their Messiah. Not every one of their pet projects got passed in the previous 20 months. So they whine and they grouse and they grumble and snipe and gripe and snivel and whimper and wail.

“He didn’t pass the Rainbows in Every Pantry Act.”

“He showed his true colors by failing to put an end to world hunger.”

“He’s just a Republican in moderate Democratic clothing.”

And compared to them, he is. Of course, compared to them, so is Fidel.

Most of these sour, pouting pusses are the far left-wing, nut-jobs who remain royally pissed the President didn’t push through single payer, blissfully unaware of any resistance offered by the opposition. It doesn’t matter. Superman shouldn’t need help. Conservatives know the importance of banding together to do whatever it takes: lie, cheat, steal, obstruct. Progressives, on the other hand, need to be goosed to get off the couch when it’s on fire.

And sloshing through the ashes of arson, they still don’t do angry. They do do petulance. Not herd animals, they tend more to the cannibalistic snails without any teeth genus. Given enough time, they’ll gum each other to death. Doesn’t matter if the Tea Party threatens to take over the entire government, the true believers won’t vote because it would take precious time from centering their chi.

So President Knute Rockne Man is sentenced to perform hard labor pep talks to rally the troops and replicate the enthusiasm he produced two short years ago. Don’t hold your breath. He’s got about the same chance as a gray-haired hippie has of capturing pixie dust with a butterfly net. Pixie dust being something these spoiled children understand.

Altogether now, clap if you believe in the progressive movement, “I do believe. I do believe. I do believe in Obama.” Just one last piece of advice: No capes.

Will Durst is a San Francisco based political comedian who writes sometimes. This being an example. His new CD, “Raging Moderate,” now available from Stand Up! Records on iTunes and Amazon. Coming early next year: “Where the Rogue Things Go.”