To The Presidential Advisors: LEADERSHIP CRED

When the drones observe "the Boss" breezing through his employees' work zone, what they actually witness is the Agent of the Support System into which their efforts and energies, accrued expertise and will are condensed.  Enroute to the top job in the company, this Chief Executive would have surrounded himself with a solid structure of competent performers who think like him, in a "Company-First" synchrony.

Another "Barry" clueless out in Left Field with the jock attitude, awaits the verdict from a Jury deliberating the issue of his fidelity to the Truth.  Son of Baseball Great Bobby Bonds, Godson of Willie Mayes, this Barry was incapable of understanding what it was the FANS expected from his greatness.  While Bonds demanded attention and big money in a quid-pro-quo ploy to deliver to the Pirates only as much as he perceived Tribute had purchased, he routinely alienated ticket buyers, autograph seekers and event patrons with a "No Show" snottiness that didn't play at all in Pittsburgh.  Without Bobby Bonnilla next door in Center, Bonds could not have begun to deduce what his job was out there in the "Corner" of Three Rivers.  Sure, he had the "trick" blythe catch of dropping fly balls into an upturned, confidant glove - and almost always caught the third out thusly with the showy clipped step to start running to the dugout ending the inning. But Bonds never really grasped the relationship between the "players" in the seats with the "Stars" on the Field.  Although the Pirates got to the Playoffs of Major League Baseball three years in a row in the early Nineties, The 30-30 club "Individual" record setter never delivered when the Team was in position to advance to the World Series.  Bonds' failure to prevent Syd Bream's "The Slide" scoring the Braves' winning run is burned into the retina of all Pirate Fans who find his current "juicing" saga not surprising.  For all his talent, Bonds never had the "Heart" of a leader and couldn't equate his own self-interest with that of his Team or his Town.

Speak to the Democrats who lost in November about the President's "leadership" and you might get a stunning review of the "Context" in which they played ball with Barry through the chain-gang subordination that appeared, from here, to be a Pelosi/Reed Puppet Show.  The DCCC Tough Guy, Emmanuel, promptly became the CCCC Tough Guy - Chicago Congressional Campaign Committee - the moment "individual opportunity" opened a door for Barry's Chief of Staff.  "Barry" from the Block is "NOW PLAYING" in the block-head game that will finally shut down the Government.  As the New England Patriots observed of the gunslinger, Ben Roethlesberger in failing to lead the Steelers to the AFC Championship in 2005, "He played like what he is:  A ROOKIE."

Metaphorically, we discern, Alas!, that the "One" is working on his individual stats - far more interested in the numbers he'll take into the negotiations with the Electorate as he seeks re-election, and the Progressives-led D.N.C. is subordinating its job of taking a TEAM into office with OFA redux.  To quote a famous candidate from 2008:  "You can put lipstick on a Pig, but it's still a PIG." 

Ironic Rhodes' Island Icon

While the clay-footed Collasus continues to drive the Chariot of the Sun across the sky, the "horses" who pull the cart belong to Hillary and Bill.  In a System of Checks and Balances, there is no room at the Top.  There is nothing more than squirms and pressure, and in such a tightly confined wedge, the synergy, not the elements, is what makes for security.  It would appear that the Exxpress Elevator to the Oval Office is for Freight, not Executive Delivery.  In an ironic twist on the whole "Brother" in Chief extravaganza, the truly productive Workers of the World recognize the value of the Team Player who, in truth, both leads and contributes.  Barry from the Blockade wedged out the "Team" from the fleeting Laurel Crown, but the Leadership he substitutes for legitimate neither galvanizes nor unites the key players.  He has no Game, no Plan, no GOTO and absolutely no credibility for the Big One.  He's been around sports enough to understand the "What have you done for me?" lately or otherwise fan attitude.       http://www.unmuseum.org/colrhode.htm

KEEP TO THE CODE

Recently, my county chairmen (previous 3) took a petty complaint to my State Committee in an effort to unseat me. Accusing me of campaigning for John McCain, they used an email I sent in response to an invitation to express views on the way women were treated during the 2008 campaign. My comments revolved strictly around the responsibility women must assert in order to curtail the level of misogynistic attacks sustained by Palin and before her, Clinton. Resisting such outrageous slander by rejecting it is every reasonable person's duty. Seated at last Fall's County Committee fundraiser dinner with fellow dems who were honoring an elderly committee woman, I heard nothing but degrading comments about Sara Palin that shocked me. Remarks of this nature can be expected from marginal activists, but effective leadership is borne of respect for the opposition.

Sara's story isn't over. Each dismissive, ugly word expressed in contempt of her just adds to her aura. The Palin-Basher, not Sara, is diminished by such inappropriate comment.

I once organized a skate race that began in Athens, Georgia and ended at Piedmont Park in Atlanta, 86 miles away. When I trained to participate in the skate, I was shown how males are intimidated by even the prospect of losing to a distaff competitor. Pompous assertions like: 'No Girl's Gonna Beat ME!" were routine. I held my comment and bit my tongue then doubled down on my training. I had set a goal for myself and was prepared to do all it took to complete the course. For me, the Clock, not the other skaters, was the focus. I wanted to arrive in Mid Town in under eight hours. The event was a fundraiser for the Leukemia Society. Participants covered the miles pledged to raise funds. Only the testosterone-driven guys were making it a race. I never saw them give up the beer, smoke or junk food to prepare themselves for their effort.

My 'friends' who dated other skaters were unable to say anything supportive to me because their "boyfriends" were so vile and intimidating in their rejection of my leadership. But I got up before dawn every Sunday morning and skated the 17 miles to Stone Mountain. This commitment spared me the humiliation of being insulted by those fellow trainees who spent Saturday nights on the bar stool. My "Companion" was the headset that tuned me into Kasey Kasem's top 20 countdown of pop music hits. Kasey offered encouragement and amusing commentary between the week's favored requests. I laced on my skates, tapped into the headphones and logged on the miles week after week. By the end of the summer, a training associate had joined me and we shared the road work. Just do it.

That colleague finished 5th, though he had dropped out at 55 miles the previous year. We called each other "Coach." I finished 4th. We didn't "talk about it." We did it.

Mental toughness proved to be the number one requirement for weathering the criticsm. I spent many hours processing away the pain and embarassment of the things said about and to me. But at Wednesday night Buckhead Bar Rolls, I could drive up any hill and pass virtually any of those who were taunting me. By summer's end, I had logged more than ten training miles for each mile I was committed to skate. My view of those who were tormenting me became elevated. If I didn't go around their "social" outings at which they preened and postured for attention, I neither triggered no experieced their Touretts. On the other hand, the hottest skaters, ten years my junior, sought me out because I was one of the few who could keep up with them. I discovered this comforting truth:
LIONS PLAY WITH LIONS.

No mother fears for her young while they play with their peers. But the "mothers" in those guys freaked out at the sight of something they saw in me: A Better Way.
Hillary Clinton, I submit, was OVERQUALIFIED for the presidency. How many women suffer not being hired for that reason? She's now doing serious work diplomatically.

In Pirates of the Caribbean, shipmates came aboard, pledged to return the Black Pearl to Captain Jack Sparrow, who had lost his boat to the mutinous crew now cursed by the Pearl's stolen treasure. Each knew the CODE; "Every Man for Himself. If any mate falls behind, go on without him." They skirted their moral duties to their mates by proclaiming; "Keep to the Code."

With a "knowing" nod, winners keep faith in their sporting colleagues. If you'd done the course, you earned the grade. Sure, some of the hackers who dogged their work-outs will try to "bamboozle" you into letting them get away with their hollow threats, but those of us who've done the work know each other and recognize the posers. Thus we recognized the Obama Illusion. "Not this time." might have convinced the newly-minted voters for change. But, like any responsible business person, I wasn't buying it. "See me next year, if you're still in business." There's a four year cycle that tests, proves and delivers the performers. I won't make such important decisions and hand over my country to somebody who might just be 'having a good year.' I want to see that my leaders can weather discouragement, rise from their own failures and re-invent themselves following valuable lessons learned. In my educated-by-experience view, Hillary Clinton had certainly done that, bHO had not.

Oh, and the shot of Michelle glaring at Carla Bruni? ... I guess that's why the petulant Mrs O refused to dine with the French President that evening. She meant to snub the First Lady. That she maneuvered a Family dinner in Paris - her own President safely snatched from the aura of Sarkozy's wife - said it all.