"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone"

In today’s Daily News, Mike Lupica suggests that the best strategy for Mitt Romney to follow in his campaign is to say nothing:

Now Romney doesn’t even have to come up with actual solutions to fix the economy or make it better, just swear he can’t make things worse.

Lupica here refers to Obama’s somewhat unnerving habit of swerving off the road on regular occasions with statements like “The private sector is doing just fine” and of that ilk, which Obama bizarrely tried to explain away with an even larger, if more subtle gaffe, when he promised us that this wouldn’t be the last stupid thing he would say before this campaign is over.

Cold comfort, that.   But the President notes that he has no monopoly on saying stupid things, which is true, considering Romney’s “I like to fire people” and other notable moments.  Hence Lupica’s advice, which is in fact excellent.  Probably the best thing Romney can do is step back, avoid making bogeys and watch the First Golfer stumble his way to the eighteenth green like Tiger at the Open.

This President, who has been described as a visionary and an an inspirational leader, now seems strangely myopic, and the ringing oratory that inspired many now echoes with an empty echo:  “I’m trying to lead the country forward…forward…forward.”

Some presidents can run on their records; not this one.  For all the hype and hoopla his handlers puff at the media, he’s hardly been an inspiration on the economic front (it’s all their fault), and his domestic social agenda comes out as a confusing and canvas of Pollack-like spatters of high speed rail, funny green energy, pandering immigration policies and even more pandering to punitive tax policies that will do little to improve finances but will punish those bastards who make a lot of money when others can hardly afford gas for their second cars.

Of course, there’s always the health care imitative, which, if and when implemented, should achieve the simultaneous nirvanas of providing everyone with affordable or free insurance while lowering overall costs.  How exactly this can happen remains a mathematical puzzle of the squaring a circle variety, unless you happen to have one of those magic calculators that only those in the inner sanctums of the administration seem to possess.

Well, he killed Osama, didn’t he?  While he may not have pulled the actual trigger, he gave the order.  Those of you who wonder what other order could have been given by any sitting president, with the exception of Cynthia McKinney, may be suffering from an overdose of cynicism or a surfeit of  reality — you choose — but taking credit for that seems about as plausible as blaming him for the Greek default.

So what are we left with?  We seem to have someone who insists on persuading us that he has accomplished great things in the face of impossible odds, who has stood heroically like Horatio at the bridge as the armies of avarice and greed threatened to overcome us, and who has almost singlehandedly saved us from the abyss which yet yawns before us.  But if we look at what actually emerges, as the smoke and dust of the oratorical tumult settles, is something more akin to a desert landscape:

“And on the pedestal these words appear:

‘My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings.

Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!’

Nothing besides remains.  Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Lupica is right, Mitt.  Keep up the rope-a-dope.  Obama’s just the man for it.