Nobel Schmobel!

Hey, the question now becomes, "Will The Bamster accept the nobel peace prize?" (I know, I know, I just don't believe it deserves the energy it requires to push the shift button to make capital letters...I'm in a bit of a mood anyway).

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He said himself that he doesn't deserve this "prize."

Eleanor Holmes Norton said it was awarded "in anticipation" of his future good deeds.

Any measure of the nobel committee's credibility still in existence after the prize was awarded to Al Gore, vanished this morning.

I mean, how can a man-child who is the Commander in Chief of an army that is actively engaged in a brutal war be awarded any kind of peace prize?

What was his reaction to the slaughter (by their theocratic government), of countless Iranian citizens protesting what was widely acknowledged to be a fixed national election? A big fat yawn, that's what. Then, after more than a week of deafening silence on the unavoidable world-wide coverage of the carnage, 'That One' read mild condemnations from his teleprompter and then went out for 18 holes.

That, in itself, should be a disqualifier.

The real reason big o (No Caps Here, Either!), won is because of the glee elite leftist Europeans feel when they see a feckless, profligate American boy president apologize and bash his own country in foriegn lands near and far, often and loudly.

Add to his Citizen of the World resume his admiration of Hugo Chavez and Fidel & Raoul Castro; sprinkle in his State Department's Honduras policy and I guess you have a perfect potion for what I dub The Appeasement - with a capital 'A' - Prize winner.

There was this boy in my class all through grade school who was perceived to be perfect in everything that he undertook. He was a good looking kid and if he were to read this, he would know I was writing about him.

In order to protect his identity, I will refer to him here as "Stinky Shorts."

Stinky Shorts came from a good family with loving parents who provided well for Stinky Shorts and his two older sisters, Palomino-Faced-Girl and She Who Married a Scary Pervert.

Stinky Shorts dressed nicely and played sports well.

Since he was so loved and fawned over by our teachers, I despised him. Because I was the son of a teacher's aide and adorable in my own calculating way, I could never outwardly express my disdain for Stinky Shorts.

Instead, I had to pretend to embrace him and grant him "friend" status.

In fourth grade, our annual Science Fair took place during a particularly creative time for me. I had written, directed and played a role in a play, the name of which I forgot decades ago.

My partner was a boy who I will refer to here as "He Who I had a Boyhood Crush On."

He Who I Had a Boyhood Crush On and I spent an entire Saturday on his farm collecting and assembling moss, pebbles, rotting wood chunks, small ferns and plastic dinosaurs into a prehistoric-looking vignette staged on a large piece of warped plywood. We were so proud and ready to collect our blue ribbons on Monday morning.

It was quite a job getting that installation into the classroom; there was nothing by our peers to compare to it and He Who I Had a Boyhood Crush On and I were beaming.

Mrs. Marshall, our teacher, was thrilled with our effort and presentation; Her smile afforded me great satisfaction.

And then Stinky Shorts came in late carrying a wobbly Solar System Mobile. I remember seeing paper clips.

You would have thought Queen Elizabeth had suddenly appeared from behind a royal purple velvet curtain with gold piping.

Mrs. Marshall nearly collapsed at the site of Stinky Shorts' creation and her enthusiasm left He Who I Had a Boyhood Crush On, myself and our classmates in a cloud of dust, so she could pay tribute to Stinky Shorts' bended hangers and badly painted Styrofoam balls.

I think you know where this is going.

Stinky Shorts got the Blue Ribbon and He Who I Had a Boyhood Crush On and I were humiliated by his Machievellian approach to accepting it: "I won? Really? Again?"

Well, not so fast.

A few weeks later Stinky Shorts was smelling kind of crappy, so to speak. I immediately deduced that he had either soiled himself badly or didn't floss that day. I felt tremendous schadenfreude at the thought of this abject weakness but never did learn the source of the odor, hind or palate.

It just smelled gross to me but made me smile.

So, back to the original question: Will barry accept the prize?

Yes, of course he will - you kidding me? - and the White House has already announced that he will.

I just hope he craps himself or forgets to floss.