I don’t know why it is, but recently little old ladies have been asking what I think of Obama.
They’ve been listening to his wonderful reading of Dreams of My Father on Radio National. And, truth be told, I think they secretly hope I might confirm that a new world order is dawning.
Unfortunately when I gently demur by saying at least he’s better than Bush, they’re momentarily distressed. Then the wisdom of age replaces hope with realism.
You see, I say, he’s not really different to what’s gone before. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer. Look at his book deal.
His book deal?
You know, the one he signed a few days before the inauguration. Hundreds of thousands of dollars to produce a kiddies version of Dreams of My Father.
Yeah, and that adds to the millions of dollars of royalties he’s already collected.
Maybe he’ll give it to charity.
Maybe he’ll make a new rule that no person’s income can be more than ten times that of another person. You know, stop all those high executive salaries, share the bounty of the planet.
Little old ladies are fun to have conversations with. They hope. But they know. Like all of us.