If characters from “The Hills” were to emote about race, I imagine it would sound like B. Hussein Obama’s autobiography, “Dreams From My Father.”
Has anybody read this book? Inasmuch as the book reveals Obama to be a flabbergasting lunatic, I gather the answer is no. Obama is about to be our next president: You might want to take a peek. If only people had read “Mein Kampf.” …
Nearly every page – save the ones dedicated to cataloguing the mundane details of his life – is bristling with anger at some imputed racist incident. The last time I heard this much race-baiting invective I was … in my usual front-row pew, as I am every Sunday morning, at Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago.
Obama tells a story about taking two white friends from the high school basketball team to a “black party.” Despite their deep-seated, unconscious hatred of blacks, the friends readily accepted. At the party, they managed not to scream the N-word, but instead “made some small talk, took a couple of the girls out on the dance floor.”
But with his racial hair-trigger, Obama sensed the whites were not comfortable because “they kept smiling a lot.” And then, in an incident reminiscent of the darkest days of the Jim Crow South … they asked to leave after spending only about an hour at the party! It was practically an etiquette lynching!
So either they hated black people with the hot, hot hate of a thousand suns, or they were athletes who had come to a party late, after a Saturday night basketball game.
In the car on the way home, one of the friends empathizes with Obama, saying: “You know, man, that really taught me something. I mean, I can see how it must be tough for you and Ray sometimes, at school parties … being the only black guys and all.”
And thus Obama felt the cruel lash of racism! He actually writes that his response to his friend’s perfectly lovely remark was: “A part of me wanted to punch him right there.”
Listen, I don’t want anybody telling Obama about Bill Clinton’s “I feel your pain” line.
Wanting to punch his white friend in the stomach was the introductory anecdote to a full-page psychotic rant about living by “the white man’s rules.” (One rule he missed was: “Never punch out your empathetic white friend after dragging him to a crappy all-black party.”)
Obama’s gaseous disquisition on the “white man’s rules” leads to this charming crescendo: “Should you refuse this defeat and lash out at your captors, they would have a name for that, too, a name that could cage you just as good. Paranoid. Militant. Violent. Nigger.”
For those of you in the “When is Obama gonna play the ‘N-word’ card?” pool, the winner is … Page 85! Congratulations!
When his mother expresses concern about Obama’s high school friend being busted for drugs, Obama says he patted his mother’s hand and told her not to worry.
This, too, prompted Obama to share with his readers a life lesson on how to handle white people: “It was usually an effective tactic, another one of those tricks I had learned: People were satisfied so long as you were courteous and smiled and made no sudden moves. They were more than satisfied, they were relieved – such a pleasant surprise to find a well-mannered young black man who didn’t seem angry all the time.”
First of all, I note that this technique seems to be the basis of Obama’s entire presidential campaign. But moreover – he was talking about his own mother! As Obama says: “Any distinction between good and bad whites held negligible meaning.” Say, do you think a white person who said that about blacks would be a leading presidential candidate?
The man is stark bonkersville.
He says the reason black people keep to themselves is that it’s “easier than spending all your time mad or trying to guess whatever it was that white folks were thinking about you.”
Here’s a little inside scoop about white people: We’re not thinking about you. Especially WASPs. We think everybody is inferior, and we are perfectly charming about it.
In college, Obama explains to a girl why he was reading Joseph Conrad’s 1902 classic, “Heart of Darkness”: “I read the book to help me understand just what it is that makes white people so afraid. Their demons. The way ideas get twisted around. It helps me understand how people learn to hate.”
By contrast, Malcolm X’s autobiography “spoke” to Obama. One line in particular “stayed with me,” he says. “He spoke of a wish he’d once had, the wish that the white blood that ran through him, there by an act of violence, might somehow be expunged.”
Forget Rev. Jeremiah Wright – Wright is Booker T. Washington compared to this guy.
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