It's Friday, and we've had a tough week, so I'm going to ask permission to be a little silly before I fall to sleep.
No Drama Obama is not your Nick Fury.
He's not going to bust into Times Square and tell Bernie Sanders that he's a Progressive Super Soldier frozen in ice since 1945.
No matter how many Tea Party Snakes are on your plane, he isn't going to tell them to get the f*ck off.
It may be true that Spider-Man and T'Challa call him on the phone, but he's not Peter Parker and he's not The Black Panther.
Barack H Obama is not your SHIELD commander.
Barack Obama is not on the deck of the SHIELD Heli-Carrier, arguing with Joe Biden in a suit of futuristic alloy or Alan Grayson before he hulks out.
He will not bring down the Hammer of Thor on The Leader, nor chase the schemes of the Orange Skull into the halls of Congress.
He cannot bring you Loki in chains or bring low a robot suit operated by Eric Cantor's floating head.
He is not your Jedi Knight, your Jedi Master, or a member of the Jedi Council.
You can talk about 11th dimensional chess all you like, but if he ever gets Rupert Murdoch on a balcony overlooking Coruscant, don't tell me you didn't cut off his hand.
Don't tell me you didn't think he could do it on his own.
Don't tell me you didn't wonder whether Murdoch's fearful rantings had some awful grain of truth.
And don't be surprised when the lightning bolts of Fox-aganda come streaming back over the balcony as a raspy Murdoch cackles at his ultimate power.
The 44th President is not your righteous hand of a furious God.
He is not Thom Hartmann, having a bad day between nuclear meltdowns and ads for living solar off the grid.
He is not Ed Schultz, gritting his teeth for the 99ers off the rolls before he sells you gold coins.
He is not your Jeff Santos, your Cenk Ungyur, your afternoon drive to your suburban home.
He will not be right back after the break.
There are no bumpers of 60s tunes between the paragraphs of his latest address.
Barack Obama is not your favorite host.
This might be a madhouse, but it is not your Planet of the Apes.
There is no slave rebellion, ape rebellion, or melted lady liberty.
And you might state, "get your stinking hands off of me, Mitch McConnell."
You might pound the sand and cry "damn it all to hell."
They may have ruined it all, but there's no gene therapy or time warp at work here.
And the President isn't Caesar or a lost Astronaut.
When Barack Obama puts everything on the table, he's not switching a bag of sand for a golden idol.
That boulder behind him is a mound of Koch money, and you'd better believe he's running.
Once again, there are snakes on the plane, and he hates them.
But he's not your Indiana Jones, and he's not your Han Solo.
He's not your Lando Calrissian, even though this deal is getting worse all the time.
He's no Obi-Wan, or Anakin, and Mon Mothma does not head up the House Democratic Caucus.
There is no green power ring. There is no utility belt. It doesn't matter if Parallax and the Joker are running on the GOP side.
Our first black president is not your Dark Knight in darkest night and brightest day.
Michelle's husband is not Buffy's watcher.
He's not behind the bow windows of the Serenity.
I do not dispute that there may be a Hellmouth at work.
Or that Reavers traverse the land in broken buses, with their break-up babies, fake-up babies, and busted history.
There might be a Dollhouse spinning out candidates to debate him on the trail.
There might even be secret donations funnelled in from Wolfram and Hart through Karl Rove's Super-PAC.
But there's no stake in the man's hand.
No fangs in his smile.
He's neither Spike New nor Spike Old.
Angel or Angelus.
If he's your Nick Fury, then Hillary Clinton has got a robot exoskeleton and 100 human-alien hybrid clones on a prison ship.
But he's not your Capt Mal Reynolds, and the Central Planets have not yet won the war.
He's not your Nick Fury, and Joss Whedon isn't directing this super-pic, coming to a theatre near you next summer.
He's not your Frodo, and he's not your Aragorn.
And before you bring the snark, he's no Saruman or Gandalf neither.
Sauron may be marshalling his forces, plodding toward Washington like some rough hewed back beast slouching toward Bethlehem. The center truly cannot hold.
But was there a ring of power, it was melted down long ago, and hawked on Glenn Beck's cancelled show.
I doubt it was ever so.
Because BO is not your Nick Fury.
And FDR was not always FDR.
Nor Lincoln Lincoln.
And LBJ is barely LBJ.
And if you look real hard, you see real easily that being Lincoln or FDR or LBJ is enough to get you venom in some quarters.
This was always so, from before these men were who they have become.
Who knows what Obama shall be? Not me.
All I know is that he could be your Nick Fury, and some would hail HYDRA.
He could be your Mace Windu, and they'd bow before the 1000 year Empire.
He could be Spock, and they would welcome our Romulan conquerors.
He is not your superhero, but they would be villains if it were so.
One party in fantasy is more than enough, and when the lights go up and my dvd runs its last track, I go back to the reality based community.
Spare me your paeans and your clever attacks.
If President Barack Hussein Obama II were Nick Fury, you'd be Janitor #3 in SHIELD HQ, picking up broken Hawkeye arrows and Giant-Man's nail clippings.
Aren't you glad all we have to do is canvas for a man, and in the process maybe give him a little bit of power?
Power that comes with responsibility, maybe great, maybe not.
So sayeth the Stan Lee.
Here endeth the lesson.
Google. John Kerry. BUILD Act. Go forth and be good to each other.
Because if Nick Fury were here, there'd be hell to pay.