Biden is such a cliche. He’s so obviously a collection of practiced gestures and rehearsed phrases. And behind the facade he’s not much more than a horse-trader in the mold of LBJ or Tip O’Neill. Which means he’ll drift in whatever direction the wind is blowing, his trained nose alert to the next deal, or the next election. The problem is he’s visibly slipping. His age is beginning to tell. The occasional slurred word. The brief, uninvited burst of stuttering. The transposition of numbers from two different data sets. The hesitations.
There’s no shame in it. We all grow old. We all slow down. But to hang on, long after one’s prime, is as telling an example of hollow ambition as one might find. Along with empty ambition travels the absence of a true philosophical core. The Senator is a loving man, a decent man, but he isn’t driven by necessity, as so many around him are. If he doesn’t choose his advisors and cabinet wisely, we are lost.