Fire Bug.
Well, isn’t it nice to know that Barack Obama has some skill beyond the reading of pretty words from a teleprompter. He might have some future as a world poker-player, after all…having shrewdly capitalized on a racial firestorm he himself torched as polemical fire-bug to become the eyes-raised-to-heaven pseudo Jesus presiding over a “teaching moment.”
Sitting at a lawn table in the Rose Garden, the group totaled four. Let’s see, in that group of four you have two certifiable racists…or at the least, race-obsessives—Henry (Skip) Gates whose view of equanimity as played on C-SPAN a few years ago echoes anything Jeremiah Wright ever wrote or spewed from a pulpit—and who introduced the specter of CPD racial profiling into the controversy where it didn’t belong…and Obama who chose Wright’s church and stayed with it til things got hot after which he quit, indicted America for racism and included in the condemnation his own white grandmother while exempting himself, of course….that’s two racists.
Lemmeesee : As I said, that’s two racists/race obsessives however you want it. Then add one legit non-racist saint. That would be Sergeant Jim Crowley of the Cambridge Police who had the backing of the entire multi-raced department because of his leadership of race sensitivity classes at its Academy and who tried to resuscitate mouth-to-mouth Reggie Lewis, the Boston Celtic player who died of cardiac arrest. He would probably be the one receiving his own racial sensitivity course from the two Harvards—racists Gates and Obama.
Okay: two racists or race-obsessives plus one non-racist saint. Finally you have Joe Biden whom they awakened from a doze at his desk in the West Wing and who had nothing to do that afternoon…so they hustled him into the picture. Biden is of course well known as a resume embroiderer which ties him with Obama who has done Joe one better: he not only embroidered his resume but turned it into a page-turning faux “autobiography” as in his entirely fictionalized account in Dreams from My Father. As the scene opens we find Obama at his first job after college—and what a nice job it is:
Eventually a consulting house in multinational corporations agreed to hire me as a research assistant. Like a spy behind enemy lines, I arrived every day at my mid-Manhattan office and sat at my computer terminal checking the Reuters machine that blinked bright emerald messages from across the globe. As far as I could tell, I was the only black man I the company, a source of shame for me but a source of considerable pride for the company’s secretarial pool. They treated me like a son, those black ladies; they told me how they expected me to run the company one day…
The company promoted me to the position of financial write. I had my own office, my own secretary, money in the bank. Sometimes coming out of an interview with Japanese financiers or German bond-traders, I would catch my reflection in the elevator doors---see myself in a suit and tie, a briefcase in my hand—and for a split second I would imagine myself as a captain of industry, barking out orders, closing the deal, before I remembered who it was that I had told myself I wanted to be and felt pangs of guilt for my lack of resolve.
We’re indebted to the website Sweetness & Light for this dogged research on this glorious phraseology (which I admit when I first read autobiography No. 1 had influenced me). 1. Obama did not work at “a consulting house to multinational corporations” but to a small company that published newsletters on international business, founded in fact by Orville Freeman, former Minnesota governor and JFK agriculture secretary. 2. He wasn’t the only black man in the company. 3. He didn’t have an office. 4. He didn’t have a secretary. 5. He didn’t conduct interviews with Japanese financiers and German bond traders.
Which shows that the fourth man at the table—Joe Biden—is a truth-teller extraordinare to his hustler boss on the make. So the box tally: two racists (including one inveterate liar), one near-saint and one blowhard but who occasionally blurts out the truth.
While Crowley is too much a gentleman and patriot to tell the truth of what probably was an insufferable conversation in self-righteous hypocrisy…and the two racists will certainly not…perhaps we can count on old Joe to let the facts out.
The ABC Documentary.
The fact that much of the nation preferred to “honor” Moonwalker Michael Jackson rather than the original moonwalker, Neil Armstrong whose anniversary came at about the same time, does not detract from the superbly revelatory replay of the historic ABC-TV documentary on Jackson narrated by Martin Bashir. In the interview with Jackson, the ravaged man-boy was so demonstrably shaken by his experiences as a child with his father that he was shaking…and watching it, I was tearful. I have never seen any documentary that related a child’s experience of being beaten savagely and repeatedly by his father. It answered for me that horrible molestation that had been inhumanely meted out by an adult animal who was benefiting hugely from the talent of his son and who was beating the living hell out of the boy time after time.
Watching Jackson talking about his father, made me wish I could get alone with that disreputable savage and one baseball bat…the implement needed as I would not want to soil my hands by touching that repulsive old toad. It showed me more than anything else the tragedy of Michael Jackson…and Jackson’s kids’ good fortune in not being turned over to the gentle mercies of that monster to be “reared.”
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