The President Moves On

While Colm, Turdling and Mac—there’s a sketchy sounding law firm—continue their occupation of the Little College on the Hill, a tectonic shift of a very different sort has occurred at the College on the Common. Our Dear Leader, after 10 years as overlord, has decided to step down and pursue new opportunities. The word on campus is that this is a legitimate move, and soon after his resignation video was posted it was announced that he had taken a position as CEO of a philanthropic start up funded by friends and colleagues of former mayor Tom Menino. Local wags have already dubbed it The Mumbles Foundation. I’m sure the President will come up with a more suitable name.

The President has always made announcements via his YouTube channel and traditionally his vids are a slickly produced three and a half minute mix of Japanese style animation, black and white Pathe newsreel clips and a sound mix ranging from old school hop hop to piercing klezmer. The President has never appeared in one of these productions but he always does the voiceover; Colm once described his voice as part Steve Buscemi, part Gil Scott-Heron. But the President broke with tradition and appeared in his last posting, and for many of us this was the first time we’d actually seen him.

The President’s farewell began with quick cuts of old Speed Racer cartoons synched up to Curtis Mayfield’s Move on Up. A shot of Racer X jumping out of his sleek machine somehow morphed into the President himself, a transmogrification made all the more jarring by the the Dear Leader’s outfit. It was a suit of sorts, and as the camera pulled in it appeared to be made of astroturf, a visual reference to . . .Smooth transitions? Pertinacity? Walt Whitman? From there images flashed at a dizzying pace: A Buddhist monk on fire, a malevolent bird shrieking on a low branch, soldiers marching in perfect step, seed pods falling on a metal roof. It was utterly confusing but mesmerizing. The final shot was of the President holding a live fish from one of its gills. The fish wriggled violently, the President smiled broadly. He looked as if he was about to say something, then. . . nothing. A Sopranos blackout.

He’s going to be a tough act to follow.