Some presidents ride off into the sunset, others wander off into the rainforest. Here's Biden at the G20 summit in Brazil, after making some remarks on green energy.
I wonder if he caught a dart in the neck.
Nah. I've cited the following selection from P.G. Wodehouse's novel before, in an earlier post pertaining to Biden's trip to New Guinea, which I think explains the lack of decisive action on the part of the locals.
"Although I'm afraid that the followers of the old ways may have grown lazy over time, as P.G. Wodehouse's Bertie Wooster speculated in a rumination on the subject in the novel, Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves (while hiding behind a couch from an explorer named Plank, a detail which need not detain us).
My disapproval extended to the personnel of the various native tribes he had encountered in the course of his explorations. On his own showing, he had for years been horning in uninvited on the aborigines of Brazil, the Congo and elsewhere, and not one of them apparently had had the enterprise to get after him with a spear or to say it with poisoned darts from the family blowpipe. And these were fellows who called themselves savages. Savages, forsooth! The savages in the books I used to read in my childhood would have had him in the Obituary column before he could say "What ho," but with the ones you get nowadays it's all slackness and laissez-faire. Can't be bothered. Leave it to somebody else. Let George do it. One wonders what the world's coming to."
