A Belated Introduction to Your President

New and improved, 10/4
Updates below

The hits just keep coming for the Wonder Brother.

I discount the president’s more explicit race-baiting; he’s never more full of shit than when he’s adopting that phony gospel intonation for such as the naive souls at Trinity United. Sinister as it is, the president’s fervor is depressingly dull. He remains the void he set out to be–only we no longer project onto His Blankness the illusion of–whatever it was the liberals were on about–but now its disillusion. The former magnified his image, the latter reduces it. And still we ask–who is this man? His life has been about contriving an identity–now he has none.

The world’s been turned upside down: now for advantage one assumes a black rather than white identity. But it’s still true that you can pass but you cannot hide. Your life is a loop, you come from a mother and return to one. That’s the inexorable pull that draws us to authentic origins–religion, ethnicity, family–as we age. To where will you return, Mr. President? Will there be anything there?

There is nothing exceptional behind that visage, other than a yearning ego, a sort of psychological greed. Obama never expected to do what his acolytes took for granted: to reconcile black and white America. He wasn’t here to change anything, but to keep the movement on track, tightening the cordon around the white boys. That’s what we get for being so good to him in Hawaii–perhaps we should have bullied him like the Indonesians. He took to the White House the plan and model he’d had for Chicago: the implementation and solidification of a permanent non-white regime, maintaining power by distributing your wealth throughout a network of identity-advocacy groups in league with corrupt business interests. What an asshole.

The president and his attorney general are small men (preceded by small men) who cannot see far. Whatever imagination they have is spent on their private psychodramas. But Holder and Obama’s aggressively racial-political Justice Department letting those buffoons off for their voter-intimidation stunt* looks more enticingly actionable than ever. Darrell Issa just lost control of his bowels.

*update: that is in light of these new allegations of one “Malik Shabazz”* signed in as a visitor to the White House. Imagine what a Nixon meets Elvis moment that might have been. I’ll pay good money to any reporter who’ll ask: “Mr. President, did Mr. Shabazz wear the fascist get-up for his tour?”

*correction: not new at all, and previously explained by the White House as “another” Malik Shabazz, along with another Bill Ayers, when releasing the logs as a transparency gesture (presumably a separate visit–I mean, if you brought too many of the more ferocious elements of Obama’s base together at the same time it’d resemble the bad-guy casting call in Blazing Saddles, complete with scowling reconquistos declaring their contempt for the rule of law).

That voodoo you do. BHO exhorts the multicultural minions of Project Vote: “To stamp out runaway decency in the West…”

I wonder if anyone has seen the actual signatures, which might be subjected to verification–because if even the absurd appellation M. Shabazz can belong to anyone now (I mean how far can you take this: “Oh, that’s another Bernie Madoff“?), then the gesture’s transparency only reveals it to be hollow.

“Log book? We don’t sign no steenking log book!”

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