Coffee Talk...well, sort of...

My plan for my blog post today, was to talk about Starbucks. Okay, not just Starbucks, but how the Starbucks Company seems to be a metaphor for our recent economic woes. Something like, a Starbucks' Latte is similar to all of those sub-prime mortgages that the banks used to love so much. You know, they looked pretty, had a lot of froth, made you feel good, but didn't really have much substance once you get past the foam. I even had a pretty little picture all picked out (see below):

That was my plan, until I saw an op-ed piece by Maureen Dowd in the NY Times this morning. The title of the editorial was, "Well, That Certainly Didn't Take Long." Here is the opening paragraph that really got my goat (I don't have a goat, but if I did, it would have been gotten): On 9/11, President Bush learned of disaster while reading “The Pet Goat” to grade-school kids. On Tuesday, President Obama escaped from disaster by reading “The Moon Over Star” to grade-school kids.

My first thought was, "lady - you have got to be kidding." To compare President Bush's initial non-response to a horrific attack in the United States, to President and Michele Obama's appearance at a elementary school class on the same day that Tom Daschle had tax shame, is absurd. The only thing that the two events had in common, is that they both involved a President of the United States sitting at the front of a classroom.

I know, I know. Republicans are looking for ways to condemn President Obama. While I admired his willingness to get on television yesterday and take full responsibility for the recent cabinet post issues, many may see it as a weakness. They have their eyes open for any slip-ups. Rush Limbaugh is practically leading the march with lit torch in hand. Even Dick Cheney is chiming in. He told Politico, that as a result of President Obama planning to close Gitmo, that there will be an increase in the probability of "terrorists attempting a massive nuclear or biological attack in coming years."

Can't you picture Cheney sitting in his log cabin with his rifle in hand - maybe a bear rug on the floor with a spitoon near by - thinking something like, "being a real President means never having to say that you're sorry." Come to think of it, I bet he never had a venti latte.