Judgment (a crap poem)

It’s inescapable
I am judging you
Everything you say
Everything you do
It causes me to judge you a little more.
However, that doesn’t mean that my judgment isn’t one of approval.

Race, the final frontier.

I got a chuckle earlier today when I saw someone in the comments of some story make a crack about Barack Obama. I can’t find the story again, or I’ve forgotten where I saw it but the comment was something like the following… “We need to just put him in an apple green shirt and stick him on the Enterprise. Cause seriously, he’s Kirk. He can’t hear all of Hillary’s negative comments over the sound of how awesome he is.”

And that got me extending the joke in my head. Because I think that’s how Obama’s supporters see him. I don’t mean that in a negative way, just an observation as I see it.

He’s out there, on the edge, exploring a strange new world. He’s going to boldly go where no black man has gone before. He’s macking the green skinned chicks, he’s gathering up the cuddly tribbles, and he’s giving the Klingons what for. Who is Obama’s Bones? Who is his Spock? His Scotty? More importantly, who is his Yeoman Rand? If only we could have gotten him to rip his shirt halfway through the primaries and made him fight some foam rubber monster or something.

And can’t this joke get extended further? Isn’t Hillary really just Janeway? Isn’t she lost and fumbling around way out in the Delta Quadrant, looking for coffee and breaking the Prime Directive all the time? Does Hillary have a Seven of Nine? Are we all going to be worried if her Seven of Nine turns out to be Bill?

Syd suggested that John McCain is a Romulan, cause of him being all warmongering and stuff, but I’m not sure I can allow that. It seems unhelpful. He sure as shit ain’t Picard though, I can tell you that.