As the USS Obama Administration slowly starts to settle into the waves, future historians will be kept busy searching for the source of the iceberg that holed it below the waterline on its maiden voyage to the land of Hope and Change. Was it the non-stimulating "stimulus"? The ludicrous Nobel Peace Prize? The decision to try the Sept. 11th plotters in lower Manhattan? The Afghanistan speech at West Point this week, splitting the difference between surging and surrendering as the photo-op cadets nodded off in the background? It's a tough call, and the first year's not even over yet.But this administration is more than simply its swivel-headed Fearless Leader, ping-ponging between his teleprompters as the law of diminishing returns exerts its iron grip on his poll numbers. It's also the executive officers, the governing party's top senators and congressmen, the palace courtiers who enforce discipline among the spear-carriers as they split up the swag. In this, the Obama Administration is especially blessed, featuring both the frozen rictus of Anunciata d'Alesandro Pelosi as the speaker of the house and Harry "the Horse" Reid, an innocent Mormon virgin wandering among the fleshpots and real-estate deals of Las Vegas, as the Senate majority leader. The Right is, indeed, fortunate in its enemies.
Still, the prize for the dumbest Democrat currently extorting a salary from the taxpayer (check out what her staff costs you here) remains where it long has been, in the grip of Barbara "Call Me Senator" Boxer, née Levy, the pride of Brooklyn and, latterly, of Marin County, Calif., and former relation-by-marriage to Hillary Rodham Clinton during the brief marriage between her daughter, Nicole, and Hillary's sterling brother, Tony. Tony Rodham, you may recall, is a former prison guard and repo man who managed to get himself into hot water over a hazelnut deal in the republic of Georgia, got caught up in Pardongate, was assaulted in flagranteby a man who claimed Tony was boinking his girlfriend, got caught up in bankruptcy court and battled his ex over child-support payments.
Standing not quite five feet tall, Boxer has consistently distinguished herself in the discharge of her duties, including trying to prevent the certification of Ohio's electoral votes during the 2000 election, attacking Condoleezza Rice during her confirmation hearings, racially patronizing Harry Alford of the Black Chamber of Commerce, and dressing down my namesake, Brig. General Michael Walsh, for an act of what she considered lèse majesté. The general had to bite his tongue, but the righteous contempt with which Alford treats the senator's plantation racism was one of the feel-good stories of the year.
Not for nothing has she earned the people's choice award as America's Stupidest Senator and against some stiff competition. Now, the Terror of Tiny Town has stepped into the steaming pile of Climategate, the recent revelations via leaked/hacked emails and other documents from the Climate Research Unit at the University of East Anglia. But is "Don't Call Me Ma'am" Boxer upset that a scheme designed to siphon trillions of dollars away from the western economies, reduce their standard of living to Third World levels and enrich crackpot global-warming enthusiasts like Albert Arnold Gore, Jr.? Of course not. What's got Barb's panties in a bunch is "E-mail-theft-gate." "You call it 'Climategate'; I call it 'E-mail-theft-gate. Whatever it is, the main issue is, Are we facing global warming or are we not... This is a crime."
Her agita comes as no surprise. Gangsters always get antsy when threatened with exposure of their rackets, and Climate Fraud is a hell of a racket, a grand bargain among greedy science whores, malevolent government officials and a supine but protective media -- Americans who get their news from The New York Times or the networks basically have no idea what we're talking about here -- who are all in this together.