President
Biden cancelled a scheduled speech Monday because DC got two inches of snow. Who calls a lid for two inches of snow? Does anybody else wonder how a man who can’t negotiate a snowy sidewalk will be able to negotiate with China or Iran or Russia?
“Mr. President, you were scheduled to meet with the Chinese Ambassador at three o’clock.”
“What?! There’s a dusting of snow on the sidewalk! I can’t possibly go out in that!”
Now, the scheduled speech was to take place at the State Department just a few miles away from the White House. It isn’t like Joe was hopping into his convertible and driving to Toledo for crap’s sake.
If this man is afraid to negotiate a snowy sidewalk to climb into an SUV for the short drive to the State Department, I think it’s safe to say that every one of our adversaries will be rolling this guy for his lunch money in no time flat.
All Putin has to say is he’ll only negotiate with Biden in a snowy city in the dead of winter, and Joe will fold like a bad poker hand.
Remember all those fretful cable news stories about “Is President Trump afraid of stairs?!” and “Ooooh! Look at how carefully Trump walked down that wet ramp!!!”
And yet nobody says boo about this decrepit old booby begging off on being driven across town because there’s a couple of inches of snow on the ground?
I mean, come on!
I thought this guy was old Working Class JoeTM.
Working class folks know what it’s like to go outside and start clearing the snow while their car warms up.
Working class folks don’t have a retinue of staffers to do that work for them.
Working class folks don’t stay toasty warm inside and only emerge when it’s time to walk to the back door of the SUV and climb in.
We’re getting hammered by a Nor’easter right now and I’ll have to go out and dig myself out later today. And I have Lupus!
My eighty-one-year-old father will be hauling out his snow blower and clearing the driveway once this storm stops.
But the President and Commander-in-Chief can’t step outside and climb into the back of an SUV to go a few miles because there’s a dusting of snow on the ground?
America’s enemies are watching.
And they see this tired, confused old man calling a lid over a dusting of snow and honey, they’re rubbing their hands together like comic book villains.
I’d call old Joe a snowflake, but the mere mention of that word might send him cowering in the basement.