Big picture, folks. Utopia. There. Forward. Forwardly so, too — where the road from the here and now breaks off into swirling yellow bricks, and tiny little followers in metrosexual clothing dance and twirl and frolic at the very idea that, somewhere down that road, forward, is a land so forward in its forwardness that backward stands not a chance of ever rearing it’s ugly, sepia-toned head again. Forward will make backward its bitch.

Because forward, you see, is where all the various colors lie. It’s a multicultural paradise, a pied progressive poppy-draped land of state-sold opiates. Forward is where dreams of returning to a solid home and a working economy rest — and where they can be fulfilled, should you only trust magical shoes and fake wizards and plans to redistribute wealth and allow an EPA to runs US industrial policy…

And trust them you should, and must. Because that’s the way forward lies. There. Forwardly. With Obama and Biden as your good witch guides:

Barack the Barnstormer and Joe the Jester were on the stumps Wednesday. Trouble was neither seemed to know where he was.

In Colorado, Obama was touting his record and vague plans for future good things. “I want to build on the progress we’ve made doubling clean energy. I want fuel-efficient cars and long-lasting batteries and wind turbines manufactured here in China.”

Looking out at the crowd of suddenly puzzled faces, the president corrected himself to say here in the United States because China is where he’s suggested certain others would send American jobs, even though it’s his multi-billion dollar bets on American green energy companies that have so often gone sour, leaving markets to Chinese competition.

[…]

Two weeks ago on the all-important issue of the economy the two men were essentially tied in Colorado. Today, Romney has constructed a growing lead, 51%-44%, on handling the economy, and 51%-45% on national security.

Politically, Ohio’s 18 electoral votes (down two since 2008) loom more than twice as large as Colorado’s nine. The state’s importance is historical too. No Republican has ever won the White House without also winning Ohio. Once thought to be virtually certain to end up in Obama’s column, the Buckeye state is now a statistical tie.

Uncle Joe came down from the attic Wednesday to campaign some more in Marion. The unpredictable vice president of the United States had just finished calling Gov. Romney “a quacking duck.”

Then, he added:

“This is the guy who’s running all the ads here in Iowa saying that he’s going to get tough on China.”

Audience members turned to each other whispering because they knew something the Democrat didn’t; they knew they were not in Marion, Iowa. They were in Marion, Ohio.

Last summer the nearly 70-year-old, who entered the Senate when Obama was a sixth grader, misplaced himself in North Carolina when he was actually in Virginia.

But he was close.

Nitpicking. Forward isn’t about such pedestrian details or smallish facts, which matter little to the big thinkers. It’s about a grand vision of a Forwardly Forwarding paradise that rests not here but forward. Over there. And in Forwardland, these little details matter none, melting away as all reason must if we’re to embrace the delicious relativism of progressive morality.

And we should: Because there, forward, under progressivism, we are all equal, in outcome, in wealth, in happiness, and in our devotion to the God of State.

Individualism and the struggles of social Darwinism fade. And we join lollipop guilds and trade associations and teachers unions and public sector alliances, and build together a worker’s paradise of bullet trains and solar-powered wind turbines that will create an omnipresent pleasant breeze, one at once thoroughly fortifying to the soul, carrying with it as it does the song of forward, and yet strong enough to nudge in its spiraling traverses algae out of the ocean beds and into renewable biofuels to run our tiny cars. Because the fact is, tiny people don’t need big cars. And in Forwardland, those kinds of misallocations of resources will be corrected by the priests of Forwardism.

Forward. There. Where all the good shit is.