© Manuel Balce Ceneta / AP
"Life imitates art," Oscar Wilde was fond of saying. And so, all of a sudden on Sunday, the USA became an episode of
Veep, after President "Joe Biden" had that fateful sit-down with God he'd hinted at a week or so ago:
God: Yeah, it's me again. What I told you 'bout dis 'lection bidness?
"
JB": (
cough cough) I gotta finish the job. (
cough cough.)
God: Job, my ass. You ain't done nuttin' but eat ice cream cones, spend money dat don't exist, and sniff up every chile come near you.
"
JB": No, you don't understand! I'm defending democracy.
God: Oh yeah? Since when my will subject to some pissant caucus? In my mansion dey's many doors, and this one is da exit, son. What I say, go. And when I
say, 'go,' dat mean you git yo'self gone! I done wrote the letter and you signin' on da dotted line right now.
"
JB": What if I won't?
God: I'ma have to smite yo' ass.
"
JB": Well, since you put it that way. . . but, say, do you happen to also have that pardon document we talked about. . .?
And so it went in the study at Rehoboth Beach Sunday afternoon. And all of a sudden, Veep Kamala Harris is elevated to be the putative nominee of the Party of Chaos going into the August convention.
Most of the other talked-about replacements instantly endorsed her — Gavin Newsom, Gretchen Whitmer, Pete Buttigieg, et al. — as a convocation of mullahs might bless a goat about to be sacrificed. Kamala issued a stirring war cry: "Together, we will fight. And together, we will win." Yawn. . . .
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