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Apparently, one of Obama’s orders to NASA was to reach out to Muslim nations, celebrating them for their contributions to science, math and engineering. So, in short order, we’ve gone from reaching for the moon to reaching for Tehran.

I say if we’re going that far back in history, we should also take a moment to thank whomever was responsible for coming up with shoes, because, in living memory, the only contribution to science made by the Muslim world was turning human beings into delivery systems for bombs.

But it’s not just Obama who seems to be taking his directions from Mecca. The town council of Darlaston, England, painted over the windows at its public swimming pool at the insistence of the local Muslims.

One elderly Englishwoman complained that after her recent cataract operation, she had looked forward to seeing the trees outside the facility while swimming her daily laps. Instead, thanks to the paint job, she felt as if her cataracts had returned.

Several questions occur to me, aside from the most obvious one: Why are the English kowtowing to Shariah law?

Understand the significance of the Muslim’s Mahdi ‘messiah’ in Joel Richardson’s book, “The Islamic Antichrist: The Shocking Truth about the Real Nature of the Beast.” Note: The book is also available in electronic form at reduced price through Scribd.

To begin with, why are Muslim women swimming in public? Even if those outside the pool can no longer ogle them, what about all those randy English blokes who are splashing around inside? Will they be forced to don blindfolds? How about reaching a compromise by removing the paint and making the Muslim women swim in burqas?

Even though Obama seems to regard Muslims as God’s chosen people, and by “God” he obviously means himself, I’m here to remind everyone that the most important off-year election in our history is now less than four months away. Even if the Republican on your ballot isn’t your conservative ideal, please keep in mind that he or she is part of the antidote to Obamacare, cap-and-trade, increased taxes and additional stimulus bills.

If nothing else impels you to get out and vote on Nov. 2, remind yourself that if the GOP regains control of the House, Nancy Pelosi will have to surrender not only the speaker’s gavel, but that jumbo jet she’s grown to love. Surely that should be enough to get you off the couch, come Election Day.

Additionally, if the GOP takes back the House, the Republicans will control the nation’s purse strings, which will help transform the turkey in the Oval Office into a lame duck.

It’s hard to believe, but after the 2008 elections, I worried that the Whigs would make a comeback long before the Republicans. But, then, I never imagined that the Democrats in Congress would enter into political suicide pacts on behalf of Obama’s loony, leftist agenda.

In a way, Obama reminds me of an old-time movie director named Mitchell Leisen. Although Leisen was only moderately successful, he inadvertently played a major role in the history of motion pictures. In the 1930s, Preston Sturges was a screenwriter at Paramount Studios. He became so dissatisfied with the way Leisen directed his scripts, he begged the higher-ups for the chance to direct them himself. They finally capitulated, and Sturges went on to write and direct such comedy classics as “Hail the Conquering Hero,” “The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek” and “The Lady Eve.”

As if that weren’t reason enough to earn a nation’s gratitude, Leisen also managed to aggravate screenwriter Billy Wilder, who then used Sturges’ success as leverage with the studio bosses. That, in turn, led to “The Major and the Minor,” “Lost Weekend,” “Double Indemnity,” “Sunset Blvd.,” “The Apartment” and “Some Like It Hot.”

So, just as Leisen led to Sturges and Wilder, and Jimmy Carter led to Ronald Reagan, one can only hope and pray that, in 2012, Obama leads to someone who is man or woman enough to clean up his unholy mess.

Finally, even in the gloomiest of times, I like to find something that will lift my spirits and make my soul sing. So it is that between now and Nov. 2, no matter how bleak things may look, I know that I’ll get through it by reminding myself that a Portland masseuse got to call Nobel Peace Prize recipient Al Gore “a crazed sex poodle.”

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