Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Yesterday was my mother’s 93rd birthday – when I called her early in the morning to wish her Happy Birthday, she said she was already all dressed up in a sweater I sent her from Israel, complete with makeup, polished fingernails and decked out in all her jewelry. Good for you, mom!
One of the funniest stories she tells on herself was when she spit on the Crown Prince of Norway. Not intentionally, of course, but when you do something like that, it would tend to linger in your memory.
She and my father had been at some sort of reception for the Crown Prince at the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks. Finger food and drinks were being served, and when she came upon the Crown Prince at an unexpected moment, she’d just taken a bite of something. It caught in her throat – haven’t we all done that – and when she tried to speak, she spewed whatever it was all over the Crown Prince.
The Crown Prince, she said, was very gracious. He just kept smiling and nodding, acting as though nothing had happened -- although as he moved away, he unobtrusively brushed the debris from his suit and the banner with all the ribbons and medals. “He was a real gentleman,” my mother said.
Maybe he was used to being spit on.
One would hope so, since that’s what the Community Organizer did yesterday, too. He spit on Norway, the very country that -- in terms of unmitigated humor -- had just awarded him the Nobel Peace Prize, which, among other benefits, also gives him, personally, $1.4 million. (That’s not all honoring the Community Organizer cost – the Norwegian government also earmarked 92 million kroner, $16 million to cover his security during his visit.)
Now Norway is wondering if they got their money’s worth.
Not just that after dithering for months, their Peace Prize winner had finally decided to send an additional 30,000 young men and women to Afghanistan to put their lives on the line for his photo ops – his word – and to heal a rift in the Democrat party. That was offensive enough to the “peace” loving Norwegians.
What they’re really ticked about is that the Community Organizer refused to play the game. He refused to take part in all the hoopla that the Nobel Committee assumes it’s buying when they give millions of dollars away with no strings attached. Nobel Prize recipients can spend the cash anyway they wish, but the Nobel Committee expects to be able to extract their pound of flesh by making the recipients socialize with Norwegians when they come to pick up the check.
I dunno – I guess if someone wanted to give me $1.4 million and pay another $16 million to make sure no one offed me while I was in their country, I guess I’d agree to a tea party or two without much fuss.
Not so the Community Organizer. Among other social slights, he refused to lunch with the King of Norway. No one said they were serving lutefisk and lefse, either, so it probably wasn’t the abundance of white food he found offensive. He just didn’t want to waste his valuable time hanging out with the King, who might possibly regale him with Ole & Lena jokes, straight through the dravla they’d offer up for dessert.
Beyond that, the most ungracious Community Organizer also refused to attend a dinner with the Norwegian Nobel committee, a press conference, a television interview, appearances at a children's event promoting peace and a music concert, as well as a visit to an exhibition in his honor at the Nobel peace centre.
Tsk, tsk. Not a very gracious guest, is he?
If nothing else, Norwegians are exquisitely polite, so Siv Jensen, of Norway’s populist Progress party, was one of the few who’d comment on the extraordinary rude behavior of the US President. “He should respect the monarchy,” Jensen said.
Of course if the Nobel Committee – not to mention Norway itself – had studied the character of the Community Organizer a little more closely, they wouldn’t have been surprised. As far as the Community Organizer is concerned, he is the King of the World, not to mention the Universe.
Why would he stoop to pay any kind of respect for such lesser beings as other pretenders to his throne? As The One, the most perfect human ever to walk the earth, surely he has the right to just grab the cash and run.
No one in the world could even suggest that he utter a ‘Mange tusen tukk.’
One can only dream of the day when the American people will rise up and say, “Sayonara, Big O! Hasta la Vista, baby -- write when you get work.”