Last night, I entered the twilight zone. I watched a rerun, chronicling the Biden White House … that ran in 2019. That’s right, it ran almost 2 years before he took office, and it was clearly about his administration. It was an episode of the Twilight Zone entitled “The Wunderkind,” which aired in April of that year – the same month that Biden announced his candidacy for the 2020 election. Coincidence – or something else? Try to imagine Rod Serling reading the rest of this article [Creepy music plays in the background].
In this journey through the “Zone,” a down on his luck campaign manager named Raf Hanks decides to manage the presidential campaign of an eleven-year-old boy, Oliver Foley. Raf figures that if he can at least make a good showing in the primaries with Oliver, his career will be back on track. Try not to get too hung up on the unconstitutionality of running a child for the highest office in the land. If the Dems can cancel the 1st Amendment to protect a philandering, crackhead, bagman; they can surely get around Article II – to capture the youth vote. Maybe Oliver identifies as a 35-year-old.
With Raf on the case, young Oliver is marketed to America with a butt load of impossible typical campaign promises. He’ll end all wars. He’ll ensure everyone has a job – I presume with a livable wage. He’ll give everyone longer vacations. Oliver feels that only two weeks at Christmas is preposterous. He’ll also give lots of free stuff to Americans – most notably, free video games. I know. Totally unrealistic … right? Why couldn’t the script writers keep it real? They could have had Oliver forgive everyone’s college loans or tell them they don’t need to pay rent while the Wuhan Flu is in season.
And then came the queen mother of all promises: he’ll make everyone be nice to each other – in Washington. Business executives call that a “stretch objective.” But Raf missed a marketing opportunity for his diminutive candidate. He could have called that last promise a “return to normalcy” pledge.
The kid even does music video campaign commercials. It is all totally transparent and superficial. It’s even sillier than the notion of campaigning from a basement. But it is also Barack Obama level “cool.” The public eats it up, and the brat gets elected.
But after his inauguration, “lovable and genuine” little Oliver turns into a screaming tyrant in office. I did not see that coming. An 11-year-old throwing temper tantrums. As Beaver Cleaver would have opined, “Who’da thunk it?” However, in fairness, Oliver did show some restraint. He didn’t use a satanic backdrop or mutter the words “semi-fascist MAGA Republicans” a single time during the episode.
And then it happened. Our immature little President’s first order of business was … wait for it … “Take me to the kitchen. I want ice cream.” That made me sit up straight. Did he really say that? That’s when I realized that it wasn’t Raf taking a trip through the “twilight zone.” It was me. What sort of black magic sorcery did the screen writers use to come up with that – almost two years before Joe started his daily frozen treat forays with the press in tow? Do I have a magic TV that gives me a glimpse 2 years into the future? Does San Fran Nan have something similar that she uses for stock trading?
Next, President Foley instructed his staff that it’s time to fulfill one of his campaign promises. Give everyone in the country free video games. When his staff pleads that he doesn’t have the power to do such a thing, Oliver blows up and says, “That’s what I’ve got you people for.” He instructs his staff to bankrupt the game companies with fines if they don’t comply. Joe should have thought of free video games rather than college loan forgiveness. It would have made the kiddies just as happy, cost way less, and Chief Justice Roberts would have thought it was a swell idea – so long as he got a free copy of Donkey Kong.
The video game executive order established a pattern for the Foley administration. Whenever the staff recommends against doing something, Oliver just orders them to get it done, threatens them – and they see to it.
I can imagine a similar conversation at the White House prior to our Afghanistan surrender – sorry, orderly withdrawal.
Joe: It’s time to fulfill another campaign promise fellas. Get us out of Afghanistan by the end of the month. I don’t want to miss my vacation over any of this national security bull… uh, nonsense.
Chairman of the JCS: But sir, we still have a crap load of equipment and legions of people we made promises to over there. That’s not enough time to get everything out.
Joe: Make it happen, or I’ll get someone else who will.
Chairman of the JCS: Sir, yes sir. Would you like some sprinkles for your ice cream before I leave?
Little Oliver even starts using his position for some extra-legal targeting of opponents. When Raf disagrees with the President on a policy matter, Oliver accuses Raf of treason and has his protective detail shoot him (fortunately, Raf doesn’t die … yet). I think the screen writers went a bit overboard here. Our current delinquent in the White House hasn’t called his opponents traitors and had them shot. He’s only called them traitors and had his DOJ prosecute them. I can’t tell you how happy I am that Joe’s spending his free time on the beach in Delaware. I prefer that over him watching Freevee reruns and picking up presidential leadership tips from Oliver. Joe’s staff appreciates it too.
At one point, our juvenile president – the one in the program, not the real one – issues an executive order that all doctors must be kids. Old guys are such a drag – and it’ll be good for diversity. That’s not quite as bad as picking a DOT secretary because he looks like the kid on Mad Magazine – but it’s close. Presumably his staff will incorporate this order into some obscure Obamacare regulation.
After issuing his medical directive, Oliver goes back to riding his big-wheel around the West Wing – the one with streamers on the handlebars. I can totally see Joe doing the same thing, though it’s probably an ecofriendly, battery powered, handicap scooter – with streamers on the handlebars.
The viewing audience is left with the impression that things don’t go well when those in power lack the maturity to show restraint. But we didn’t need the Twilight Zone to teach us that – we’ve got Merrick Garland.
Character matters. The elevation of an immature juvenile to high office has grave consequences – even if that juvenile is a six-foot tall man-child with a great tailor and hair plugs. The program drives that point home with the final scene.
The program ends with a child doctor performing surgery on our gunshot victim, Raf. If you didn’t catch the point of the plot before, an eleven-year-old cutting into a screaming gunshot victim is a stark illustration that feel-good selections in hiring are an invitation for calamity. Such impulsive staffing decisions may have dire consequences.
Now let’s talk about Kamala.
Author Bio: John Green is a political refugee from Minnesota, now residing in Idaho. He has written for American Thinker, and American Free News Network. He can be followed on Facebook or reached at greenjeg@gmail.com.
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