Crowning Joe: don’t undersell yourselves, lads

Time, I found, got jumbled. Was it yesterday or two days ago that I saw Joe, with tears literally running down his cheeks, speaking of a military base or something being named after his dead son Beau? And it was almost definitely the same occasion where Joe told how people were saying he always quotes Irish poets, but he does so because they are the best poets (take that, Robert Frost). The about-to-be-inaugurated president then quoted James Joyce, who didn’t do poetry at all, just endless sentences, and how Joyce had said that when he died, they would find ‘Dublin’ written on his heart. Joe figures that when his time comes, they’ll find ‘Delaware’ written on his heart.

Sort of macabre-weird, when you think of it. They didn’t carve into the chest of the deceased Joyce and I doubt if they’ll do so to Biden. Besides, hearts are slippery for writing on. Paper’s usually better.

Then the inauguration ceremony yesterday. What do I remember? Joe saying “It’s not our example of power that matters, it’s the power of our example”.  You mean, like, every other country should also spend $700 billion annually on weapons of war?  After that there was Joe saying in twenty different ways what John Lennon said in two: Come Together.  There was young black poet Amanda Gorman (not another paddy) knocking them dead with her brilliant rendering of her poem, ‘The Hill We Climb’. There was Lady Gaga (how can they say that name and still maintain inaugurational dignity) dressed like an eighteenth-century lady on her way to a ball,  showing the world she has a pair of lungs that’d lift the skin off a listener’s ears. And Garth Brooks, an overweight cowboy who broke every social distancing rule in the book by embracing women and men on his way out. And I see Mike Pence, sorta lonely-looking, the guy the white bully boys wanted to hang, sitting there as composed as ever, telling himself it was best to suck up all the Democratic cavortings, if he wanted to go for the big prize in 2024.

This morning I feel as if I’’m hung-over from excessive consumption of Joe Biden and all his works and pomps. For days now the remote control, once lifted, has taken on a life of its own and gone straight to CNN to hear the latest filler-in comments.

I love Americans, or certainly quite a few of those I’ve met. But my God, they do go over the top with the big words, and the imperial strutting, and the adoration of the US as the incarnation of all things good and mighty and loved by God.

The only left that we don’t know is what Trump said in that letter he left. If we did, we could close the door on the inauguration (by the way, wasn’t that a super-spreader event, big-time? I mean, social distance my arse), The brooding orange villain has gone for now, and pray God there’ll be an end to the mountain-high superlatives the Americans love to pile on themselves. We the people say ‘Enough already’. We’ve got the promises loud and clear, as well as clear and loud. Now for God’s sake get on with it.’

Footnote: Did I mishear on RTÉ, or did a Republicans Abroad spokesperson blurt out about his regret that two criminals had been inaugurated? Memo to self: check on the tablets situation.

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