Reading Between the Black and White

Well, The Black Guy (you know, that man who is part Kenyan, part European, the dark horse running against the Queen Inheritor Pre-Destined to the Oval Office, The Hillary (go ahead and skewer this writer, he couldn't resist that pun!) is surely skilled at one thing. (I was beginning to worry, so this is good news, in a perverse sort of way.)

No, it's not speaking eloquently. The people who keep falling all over themselves to write and speak about how "eloquent" the man is must be the same people who consistently trip over their own tongues. No, it's not that he's handsome. Almighty lords of heaven, hell, and earth, the man is a far cry from un-attractive, but he's nothing special, and he's got helicopter blades for ears! (I'm not making fun of The Black Guy with this; it's just that the absurdity of constantly talking about his handsome movie actor looks has got to be counterweighted by something equally extreme that leans in the other direction, so as to engender balance). Besides, making women swoon is not a defined Presidential requirement. (And so many of you wonder why women were not given the right to vote for so long.)

His gift and talent, at least the one that we've seen so far, consists of knowing how to push the average person's buttons better than the most evil-genius-minded psychiatrist.

He took something hideous and humiliating from his personal life-his totally Leftwing moonbat pastor, the right reverend Wright and his proudly publicized recordings of pulpit-delivered racial hatred, concepts of stark division in American society, the vast right-wing conspiracy, the in-so-many-words calling black Republicans Uncle Toms (or Auntie Condies), and all that jazz-and, with all the magic of turning a sow's ear into a silk purse, transformed it into the sparking and igniting of a "new dialogue".

The new dialogue is, needless to say, one that we have all needed for oh so long in the United States, because the typical white person-just like The Black Guy's sainted grandmother-just doesn't get it, since it's a black thing.

It is a dialogue that the Latino group La Raza-"The Race" (apparently the one and only, or the one and only one that matters)-is having a celebratory piñata beating over (the piñata is in the image of a white dressed up in British Colonial times' garb, or so I've been told).

It is a dialogue the Liberal media messiahs have never ceased from tirelessly writing and talking about for the last week and a half, and are likely not to stop until November comes. It's forever riding the airwaves and poured out in ink and splashed over the Net until then.

It is, needless to say, a dialogue about the great racial divides in the United States.

Thanks to the wicked ways of wealthy (and typical) white people, this dialogue has been necessary but never permitted to manifest...until now, with the coming of The Black Guy.

As some of the people that this writer corresponds with have pointed out, The Black Guy and his graciously grateful American wife have not been able to convince just one man-the right reverend Wright-that his views are extremely out of balance in 20 years' time, the vast majority of which time has been spent intimately knowing him. But, somehow, they are the ones that have been sent to us to constructively channel the seething, burning energy of black outrage and balance it with the mass insensitivity of the white people.
Others have recalled to my mind the incensed outrage a few years back among those who aren't (or don't want to consider themselves to be) white of the use of the word "niggardly". They screamed and howled until enough of them had opened up their dictionaries to discover that it's an old, old Scandinavian word which means "stingy".

(But, wait a minute! Scandinavians are white! It all makes sense!)

The great black American writer Booker T. Washington pointed out almost 100 years ago, in the thick of Jim Crow and only a few years before the re-emergence of the Ku Klux Klan, that there are many in the United States who don't want the problems, real or imagined, of black Americans to ever be solved. Why not? Because they have learned that they can make easy, and big, money by playing race card games, and they don't want their great livelihood taken away from them.

The vast majority of those whom Washington was writing about were black people.

Today Washington, were he naming names, would invoke those of Jackson, and Sharpton, and Farrakhan.

And Barack and Michelle Obama?