I wasn’t expecting it until the end of the Mayan calendar in 2012, so you can imagine my surprise when all hope was lost on Memorial Day weekend of 2009. At first I thought that all hope was lost because of a horrible experience in telemarketing gone wrong with The Queen and Her Family. In a post titled, simply enough, “Phone Sex” we learn of a young, teenage telemarketer who called the Queen’s home, obviously from a prepared list of target donors, and found herself unable to pronounce the surname of the residents. This might be understandable if it were some occult, Eastern European concoction with seventeen syllables and two vowels, but it was *******. (No, I don’t want to type it out here, but I can tell you that you’ll figure it out soon enough and Dictionary.com lists it in the top 200 most popular surnames in the United States and you’ve met plenty of them.

The caller said, “Hello? Hello?”

“yeesssssssssssssssssssssss.”

“Is this Mrs – Skuh … skuh …. skuh – mid -it?”

I am not kidding, she pronounced the “Sch” as in our American “schedule,” then “mid,” and then, oh no! she was left with the “t” at the end so she had to buy a vowel. I SWEAR WHO COULD NOT PRONOUCE S______? And this was an American teenager, too, evidently from the Valley or somewhere the Germans hadn’t migrated because MY GOD it’s only the second most popular name in Germany.

“Yes,” I answered.

“May I speak to Mr. Skuh-mid-it?”

So our brave telemarketer has finished her efforts at formal education and launched herself out into this harsh employment market with the language skills of your typical gerbil rescued from a mascara factory. I would not, however, consider this to be the absolute end of all hope. That didn’t happen until I read a second offering from Melissa Clothier today. Some of you may recall that earlier this morning she and I butted heads at Pajamas Media over the matter of Colin Powell, but apparently there was far riper fruit awaiting a good plucking. But first… let us get the obligatory banner up and in place.

Yes, it’s time for yet another Fauxrage watch, gentle readers. And this time it stems from (horror of horrors) Obama missing a meeting with some school children at the White House who were late showing up. We’ve had some great fun poking fun at the new president and his somewhat dubious party leaders in Congress, but this is one of those stories where you have to feel for the guy. The hard core partisans were never going to let him go on this one. And Milissa chimed right in with, “Obama’s Only Criteria: Is There Something In It For Me?” The President’s well known, callous hatred of children, old people and dogs is legendary, but clearly this was several bridges too far for his right wing detractors. And what was he doing instead of uplifting the precious seeds of the next generation? Wasting his time with a bunch of football players!

The Steelers and the Obama administration used their time together to create 3,000 care packages for U.S. troops as part of a Wounded Warriors initiative.

Allow me, if you will, to write Melissa Clouthier’s column for her, had the President opted to skip out on the meeting with the Pittsburgh Steelers to visit with the tardy school children.

For Obama, it’s any excuse to bash, insult and blow off the troops.

Today, while valiant, patriotic NFL players labored to provide some comfort and relief to our dedicated men and women serving overseas in two wars against the global threat of Muslims, President Barack Hussein Obama chose to spend his time posing for useless photo ops with a bunch of kids. I mean, really. Didn’t that go out of style in the fifties? Trying to score cheap political points by kissing babies and hanging out with children you don’t even know? Why does Obama hate the troops so much?

No, I’m afraid there was no way that Obama was going to come out of this one without a large dose of pie on his face once the children’s bus was late in arriving at the White House. I suppose somebody could bring up how absolutely packed the White House schedule is every single day and how it’s rare to get any free time on it or be able to wait around for somebody who may or may not show up.

But, as a good friend of mine always likes to say, That train has sailed.