"You and I have a rendezvous with destiny. We will preserve for our children this, the last best hope of man on earth, or we will sentence them to take the first step into a thousand years of darkness. If we fail, at least let our children and our children's children say of us we justified our brief moment here. We did all that could be done."
Ronald Reagan

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Robin of Berkeley - Obama's Slave Ship

When I was young and living in Manhattan, I saw an Off-Off-Broadway play called Slave Ship. It was an experience I'll never forget.

Unbeknownst to me, the performance was conducted in total darkness. The audience was subjected for one very long hour to the harrowing sounds of slavery. There were blood-curdling screams, whippings, and more.

Given that we were trapped in pitch blackness, the audience was held captive like the slaves, compelled to experience the same terror, helplessness, and despair. This was undoubtedly the intention of the play.

Memories of that ghastly night at the theater sauntered back into my mind's eye upon hearing some of Obama's recent utterances. To an audience of blacks, he invokes the language of slavery, fashioning himself an abolitionist freeing them from bondage.

Using racially charged language, Obama relegates Republicans to the back of the bus. In a speech to Latinos, he directs the audience to align with him against the "enemy." But Obama doesn't mean the Mexican Cartel, who are holding sections of Mexico and the United States hostage. He's referring to conservatives.

Recent photos of Obama have been alarming; they depict a man boiling over with rage. Have we ever witnessed a U.S. president so pugnacious, so incensed and inflamed by his own people?

But to Obama, we are not his people; this is everything you need to know about Barack Obama in a nutshell. Although Obama was marketed as the post-racial, biracial uniter, this is not the man behind the mask.

And the world according to Obama does not resemble the place in which most of us live. His is a threatening, foreboding universe. It has always been this way and will always be, regardless of the power he amasses. As he writes in Dreams of My Father, "The world was violent, I was learning, unpredictable and often cruel."

This is the world Obama was thrust into, born to a teenage white mother and a Kenyan father. The young child lived with his parents (maybe), and then his mother, and next was carted off to a foreign land, Indonesia, with a new daddy.

In Indonesia, Obama began to cultivate his lifelong identity as the outsider. There he was a black/white boy in a Muslim country. His mother reinforced and celebrated their misfit status. She scoffed at socializing with other Americans because "[t]hey are not my people." (If they weren't her people, then who were?)

Obama's mom, the oddly named Stanley Ann, taught Barry to view the world as she did -- in black and white terms. There are villains and there are victims, with no trustworthy people to whom to attach. Stanley Ann's behavior itself exemplified the faithlessness of others.

A young mom, just 18 when Barry was born, she carted him around like a piece of luggage. She spirited him off to Indonesia to start a new life there. After her marriage dissolved, she returned to the U.S. with the little boy in tow.

When Stanley Ann made plans to haul him back to Indonesia, Barry refused and moved in with his grandparents in Hawaii, where there was no love lost. He has described them as "strangers," and his grandma as belonging to "typical white people."

Obama learned how to be a black man through the tutelage of Frank Marshall Davis, purportedly a Communist, pedophile, and bisexual. Davis imparted such lessons as "never trust the white man."

Barry had to endure his grandfather and Davis, in a boozy state, telling dirty jokes in front of the discomforted boy. The small, vulnerable child just didn't exist.

When a child grows up with no strong arms to protect him and no sense of home, he can evolve in several different ways. He may become a dependent person who clings to others like a life raft.

Or he can go another way entirely and become the consummate loner. He will depend only upon himself; it's him against the world.

In extreme cases, the person may become grandiose and ordain himself as uniquely gifted. This path would be more likely if those around him reinforced his specialness, without, at the same time, offering warmth and closeness.

Of course, a man can reject all of the poisons of the past. He can instead emulate a wholesome and healthy person in his life. But who in Obama's world embodied a life-affirming spirit?

The adult Barack has instead chosen people who support his worldview, those lessons that he learned by Davis' side. In college, Obama gravitated towards the college militants, then married the fiery Michelle, who dubs this country "mean."

Together they befriended the hardcore Left, the Bill Ayerses and Bernardine Dohrns of the world. Fashioning themselves as soldiers in a war within, Ayers and Dohrn configured bombs that maimed and murdered American citizens. They were ecstatic about Charles Manson's butchery, as well as his scheme to incite a race war -- Helter Skelter.

For his adult mentor, Obama picked Rev. Jeremiah Wright. Then Pastor of the Trinity United Church of Christ, Wright is a fan of Black Liberation Theology. BLT teaches that blacks are God's Chosen People, with whites inferior and wicked. Its founder, James Cone, has described the goals of BLT this way:

". . . complete emancipation of black people from white oppression by whatever means black people deem necessary. . . Theologically, Malcolm X was not far wrong when he called the white man ‘the devil.'"

By choosing this church over all others, Obama made a pivotal life decision. For seventeen years, Obama sat in the pews of Trinity consuming the vitriol of racial hate. In one sermon after another, Rev. Jeremiah Wright invoked the specters of slavery and Jim Crow, resurrecting a war that, for him, had never ended.

In his autobiography, Obama lets slip a fascination with something that the biracial Malcolm X once said. Malcolm was so repulsed by his white ancestry that he daydreamed about draining the white blood from his body.

One must wonder: by Obama's choosing Trinity, a church where his own mother wouldn't have been welcome, was he trying to exorcise the evil white spirit in him? And by joining that church, did he finally leave his repugnant white side behind at Trinity's door?

Now at the helm, Obama is avenging the Sins of the Fathers, even though the fathers are long since dead and buried. Consequently, the Department of Justice drops all charges against the new generation of domestic terrorists, the New Black Panthers, who verbalize their desire to kill "cracker babies."

The DOJ turns a blind eye toward egregious acts of injustice towards whites. The Feds will even go so far as suing Arizona and threatening other states should they not toe the party line of importing as many people of color as possible.

When Obama tells black voters that he's freeing them from slavery, this is not hyperbole; he means it. But he's not referring to liberal politics that has only decimated the black culture.

Obama means this: he will put the final nail in the coffin of American exceptionalism. He will end the Civil War. And he will do it his way: by trying to break the backs and the spirits of the white oppressors.

It matters not that the Civil War ended over a century ago, nor that 3% of the population perished in the struggle to free the slaves. For people like Obama and the Revs. Wright and Cone, the war still rages.

Obama thinks we're on his Slave Ship, and he's taking us along for a ride. He wants us to experience the same terror, helplessness, and despair as that New York audience held captive in the theater long ago.

He wants us to suffer. That's why there's an impish gleam in his eye when he consigns Republicans to the back of the bus.

For Obama, the change has come. But it's not prosperity. It's not uniting us as one people, Americans, under God.

It's the chickens coming home to roost. It's this: we're finally firmly and, in his mind, deservingly, under his thumb.

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