I am happy for Barry – he finally outed himself as the first American gay president. Technically, he didn’t do it on his own initiative – actually Newsweek Magazine did it by boldly stating the fact on its cover. If that ailing publication, which is still a major part of the mainstream media, says so, it must be true. After all, Obama, the mediocre community organizer, who was so embarrassed by his dismal academic record that he had to seal it for eternity, owes everything that he has achieved to the media.
Last week we witnessed a poorly executed charade involving Obama and Biden, in which they simulated confusion about who of them came up first with the idea to support the homosexual marriage.
One may wonder about the reasoning of such a statement. This decision, which affects a tiny percentage (most gays don’t marry) of the already tiny 2% homosexual minority, carries quite a lot of emotional charge, which will affect the voting decisions of the majority.
It is strange that Obama would go into such an explosive issue when the US economy is in a dismal state and the scary deficit (with the even scarier national debt) is very likely to ruin the country. Instead of tackling the major issues, the President turns to something that is guaranteed to polarize the electorate. Truth to be told, the gay marriage question may affect the voting preferences of the conservative people. As of the ghetto blacks, who overwhelmingly dislike homosexuals (just ask Rosie O’Donnell about that), it doesn’t look like Obama’s position would sway their vote. I am sure they’ll vote even for the Scarecrow of the Tin Man, if they promise them more food stamps and other free stuff.
It was interesting to observe how Obama’s views on gay marriage evolved over the years. Before he was elected, he clearly stated that that type of matrimonial bond is not something he would support. In the interview, during which he revealed his new position, he told the tall tale about how he spoke with many people and even consulted with Michelle (yeah, right). Finally, he came up with that epiphany.
Obama’s opponents were quick to dismiss his turnaround as another political ploy. But what if he was sincere? What if he really found his inner gay and set him free?
That’s what the homosexual community has always insisted on – gayness is not a choice, but a genetic condition you are born with. I am not sure about that statement, but I am convinced that someone can turn gay under the rights influence.
Over the last days more and more people have started looking for clues about Obama’s sexuality. A story released by a White House insider is circulating the net. It claims that Obama and his buddy Rahm Emanuel have been for years members of an exclusive Chicago bathhouse, where men can “get together and play safely”. I can’t verify it, so I’ll look for clues in what is already known about Barry (and what he still hasn’t managed to hide, seal or classify).
It is a well-known fact that his promiscuous mother Stanley (what a name – it would perfectly fit a butch) had a soft spot for exotic men. That would’ve been all perfect, if she preferred mentally stable people. However, all her contacts came from the deranged Marxist and Third-World revolutionary types, who are as weird as their white counterparts.
As a result, the (alleged) father of her first child turned out to be a Kenyan Marxist, who was also a polygamist and an alcoholic. It’s no wonder Barry never knew him. As if that was not enough, later Stanley dragged her little Barry all the way to Indonesia, where he had to immerse himself in a totally different culture.
And of all of the millions of girls available in the country and capable of doing the job, Stanley picked a homosexual transvestite to become her son’s “nanny”:
“His nanny was an openly gay man who, in keeping with Indonesia’s relaxed attitudes toward homosexuality, carried on an affair with a local butcher, longtime residents said. The nanny later joined a group of transvestites called Fantastic Dolls, who, like the many transvestites who remain fixtures of Jakarta’s streetscape, entertained people by dancing and playing volleyball.”
Some of the other reports went into even more details, saying that the tranny nanny often tried Stanley’s lipstick on Barry’s lips, which made the little rascal happy and cheerful.
Once they came back to America, Obama continued to get his life education from “mentors” coming from the same “mom circle”. Among them we see Marxists, communists, lefty terrorists, deranged preachers, black racist professors, but not a single person from whom he could’ve learned something useful.
In 2008 The New York Times published two poems by Barack Obama. According to the paper, they both appeared first in a college journal in 1981. In one of them the then 19-year-old Barry provides us with a glimpse at his disturbed mind. (His lack of talent is quite obvious and I admire his decision to stop writing poetry).
Here is one of the poems, I am quoting the whole thing, because otherwise my lefty friends may accuse me that I am taking verse “out of context” (the emphasis below is mine):
Sitting in his seat, a seat broad and broken
In, sprinkled with ashes
Pop switches channels, takes another
Shot of Seagrams, neat, and asks
What to do with me, a green young man
Who fails to consider the
Flim and flam of the world, since
Things have been easy for me;
I stare hard at his face, a stare
That deflects off his brow;
I’m sure he’s unaware of his
Dark, watery eyes, that
Glance in different directions,
And his slow, unwelcome twitches,
Fail to pass.
I listen, nod,
Listen, open, till I cling to his pale,
Beige T-shirt, yelling,
Yelling in his ears, that hang
With heavy lobes, but he’s still telling
His joke, so I ask why
He’s so unhappy, to which he replies…
But I don’t care anymore, cause
He took too damn long, and from
Under my seat, I pull out the
Mirror I’ve been saving; I’m laughing,
Laughing loud, the blood rushing from his face
To mine, as he grows small,
A spot in my brain, something
That may be squeezed out, like a
Watermelon seed between
Pop takes another shot, neat,
Points out the same amber
Stain on his shorts that I’ve got on mine, and
Makes me smell his smell, coming
From me; he switches channels, recites an old poem
He wrote before his mother died,
Stands, shouts, and asks
For a hug, as I shrink, my
Arms barely reaching around
His thick, oily neck, and his broad back; ’cause
I see my face, framed within
Pop’s black-framed glasses
And know he’s laughing too.
That’s quite an unpleasant picture, isn’t it? Two sweaty guys sitting in a living room (or a bedroom) and watching TV engulfed in the stench of alcohol fumes and cigarette smoke.
Out of respect for Obama’s sanity, I will assume that “Pop” doesn’t refer to his father, otherwise the situation described may become more weird and repulsive than even the most complicated cases of Dr. Freud.
The guy with the “thick, oily neck” is most likely one of Obama’s numerous mentors, who, for some reason, is dissatisfied with his protégé. I partially agree with him – Barry hasn’t “considered the flim and flam of the world” because the affirmative action had made things really easy for him.
Barry doesn’t say what that big guy has done for him, but he is obviously infatuated with “pop” and listens carefully to his harsh criticism without saying anything. The passion escalates to the point where Obama pulls a mysterious mirror from under his seat (why the heck did he hide a mirror under a seat?).
Then in the highlighted part “pop” takes another shot of Canadian rye and we suddenly are told that both of them are in their underwear. “Pop” is already pleasantly drunk and he takes the opportunity to point at an “amber stain” on his shorts, which is exactly like the one Barry has on his shorts. And as if this is not enough, “pop” makes him smell pop’s smell, which also comes from Barry’s body.
The author doesn’t clarify if the identical “amber stains” originate from urine or semen. However, the passionate hug, which follows, clearly tells us that the stains revive fond memories. A pee stain can’t create such nice memories (unless you are on the kinky side), so I am going with the second option.
Barry, I know that we are supposed to consider homosexual sex beautiful, but come on, making the smell of a semen stain on your underwear the emotional centerpiece of your poem??? Euww!!! I thought you had higher standards!
Couldn’t you write something about your composite girlfriend? At least the smelling part would’ve been more pleasant…
So I leave it up to you to decide if Obama has evolved into being more tolerant to the gay community or has just released something that always existed in him (not that there’s anything wrong with it!). Obama is a gift that keeps giving…
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