I must admit that I am, in a perverse sort of way, addicted to reading about Jimmy Carter (the same way I have become addicted to the CNN fiasco “Parker Spitzer”). Jay Nordlinger of the National Review refers to it as “Carterpalooza“. The parallels to Barack Hussein Obama are so similar that they are frightening to anyone who was eligible to vote during the 1976 -80 years. The messianic complex, the persecution complex, the sense of self righteousness, of moral superiority and virtue are mind numbing. Not only is (at least until Obama came along) the worst president ever but the worst ex- president too!
by Joe Queenan
In November 1980, the American people made a disastrous decision whose reverberations are still being felt today. Rather than biting the bullet and re-electing the glum, uncharismatic, hopeless Jimmy Carter to the White House—thereby ensuring that he would return to Plains, Ga., at the conclusion of his second term and keep his blabberpuss shut—they turfed him out into the street.
That made him mad. Really mad. By giving one of America’s dopiest presidents the bum’s rush, the American people ensured that Mr. Carter would spend the rest of his life trying to even the score, trying to persuade them that they had made a huge mistake when they cast their lot with Ronald Reagan, trying to convince them that they were a bunch of jerks.
The particular form of retribution Carter chose was as sinister and cruel as any known to man. He took his pen in hand and began to write books. Long books. Boring books. Dour books. Yes, long, boring, dour, numerous books. Books with sanctimonious names like “Keeping Faith” and “Living Faith” and “Leading a Worthy Life.” Books with pompous names like “Turning Point,” “Our Endangered Values” and “Always a Reckoning.” Books with hokey names like “Christmas in Plains” and “Everything to Gain: Making the Most of the Rest of Your Life.” And yes, even books with names like “The Little Baby Snoogle-Fleejer” that defy classification.
He has not set his pen down since.
[…]
The Oval Office equivalent of the Edsel, Mr. Carter has spent three decades in the wilderness retrofitting his image as the best, the brightest, and the noblest ex-president of them all. This is like trying to get credit for touchdowns 30 years after the clock has run out, with the score reading Eureka College 50, Navy 0.
Being history’s most admired ex-president is like being the most beloved former skipper of a torpedoed aircraft carrier. If the ship sank while you were at the helm, it doesn’t really matter what a great job you did manning the inflatable lifeboat afterward. Mr. Carter inhabits some weird parallel universe with people like George Foreman, who were despised when they were at their peak and then manufactured a touchy-feely post-career aura that made some people forget how much they disliked them when they were famous. But George Foreman, unlike Jimmy Carter, is funny. And George Foreman could throw a punch.
[…]
Read the rest here: Jimmy Carter; Can’t stop the typing
