I fell asleep in the middle of Obama's speech last night. I was tired from mornings of mom work and evenings of wonkery, it's true, but he is also to blame. I skimmed my twitterfeed this morning and there was deafening silence about last night. Obama bombed. But why? 

Obama knows how to give good speech. He clearly enjoyed the commencement speeches of June. Last night, he was grim. He pieced together bits of speeches that he has given for the past year and failed to inspire us. He couldn't promise hope. Not truthfully at any rate. He could only promise a slow, painful recovery. He didn't like his own message. 

The presidency weighs heavily on his shoulders. Part of him wonders if life would not be better, if he was a law professor in Chicago with the time to coach his girls' soccer games. Being average and unknown and free from the silliness of Washington politics. 

There were some stand out speeches this week. Michelle and Clinton were marvelous. Even John Kerry dazzled. It's much easier to give a rousing speech for someone else, than to brag about one's own accomplishments. 

Some pundits are speculating that Obama knows that he is going to win in November and is merely going through the motions right now. There's no need to inspire, when the win is in the bag. I don't think that arrogance slowed down Obama, as much as the burden of economy and boredom of campaign. 

There's something Shakespearean about watching a president enter his second term. He now knows that forces beyond his control shape our country. No one can control the shifting economy or move the massive bureaucracy or tame the insane leaders abroad or appease all the groups that show up at his door. He's chewed up by responsibility. Devoured and martyred for the country that wants more than he can give. Counting the days until he can walk away from it all. Only Bill Clinton loved that life. Normal people want a real life.