I certainly have no problem with satire, especially with regard to politicians, who certainly need far more directed at them than they get these days.
And I even think that applies to Barack Obama, whose sanctification at the hands of fanatics is not only a disturbing reflection of the gullibility of our republic but misses the point of why he's such a good candidate: he's a relentless, intelligent opportunist who can be a tremendous antidote to the permissive idiocy of the past eight years.
But the one point I'd humbly offer up is that there is effective satire and there is ineffective satire. Effective satire is intelligent, perceptive, disruptive and edifying. I don't think the New Yorker's image is effective satire for these reasons:
1. Those who will "get" the image are many, but what actual effect it achieves for them beyond getting a chuckle I don't know. It's not particularly clever: "Let's compile all the false rumors about Obama and his wife and consolidate them in a funny cartoon that will send them up." Well, those who already know the rumors aren't true will laugh at the stupidity of those who don't know. But it won't be anything new for them.
2. Satire is usually framed around the actual person or institution being satirized, i.e. Herblock's Nixon satire usually depicted Nixon in some way, or Stalin, or whatever political figure was his target. Obviously the point here, assuming there's nothing sinister going on, is to satirize false information. But it's an extremely awkward proposition to satirize false information about a given person by actually depicting that person. There's a cognitive disjoint, because historically the satire should depict the subject of satire, but here it's Obama, who, again, assuming the best, is actually not the target.
3. At best this satire is preaching to the choir. The problem is, when satire preaches to a choir and the non-choir member steps in, things can look awfully disturbing. It's a weird parallel to draw, I know, but in the case of Jeremiah Wright, his sermons were directed to a congregation that knew him well, as well as his work and constitution. When we saw him from the outside we freaked out. Transpose the situation, imperfect though the comparison may be, to this picture. New Yorker readers, being clever and well-informed, all chuckle at the cover and pish-posh those articles that make such a show of decrying it. Only, when non-New Yorker readers see that image, they may see something quite different, if they don't for instance, understand the irony that often characterizes the publication or its satirical bent and/or history. That's obviously not the magazine's responsibility to control, but that image is easily transferable to non-New Yorker readers out of context. That is to say, intelligent satire makes difficult work of turning it into another piece of propaganda. The New Yorker pic does just the opposite.
That's all. I think it was a silly decision to publish it because it could be so easily misused and was so awkward in its general execution (see reason 2). Awful, horribly offensive? Of course not. Stupid? Yes. Though I have a feeling that the editorial staff on the magazine would fear the latter designation more than the former...
