No, Reverend Jeremiah Wright hasn’t hoodwinked me with his fiery flapdoodle from this past week’s press briefing. Yes, I still think the guy is certifiable. Listening to Wright last Monday at the National Press Club was like listening to Charles Manson during one of his parole hearings; the guy’s frickin’ insane! He’s whacked. His worldview is a bit, let’s say . . . skewed. I put what Wright said on Monday right up there with Paula Abdul’s blather on Tuesday’s Idol for the “What the Hell?” TV clip of the week.
Having said that, I’ve got to give Jerry his due for not backing down from his point of view, unlike Barry and Michelle. Yep, this guy actually believes the white devil-inspired US government put AIDS on black people’s sandwiches, that Farrakhan is funkalicious, and the USA is a terrorist state. He’s sold on it. He didn’t give an inch when queried. He stood there with unction . . . his hands on his hips . . . finger wagging . . . and in full throttle animation letting us all know in a no-ifs-ands-or-buts-about-it way that he owns those beliefs. He’s down with it, mama!
Another thing that was cosmically clear was that Wright didn’t arrive at this place of conviction overnight; he’s been stewing in these anti-American juices for many years. Like, at least 20. Which left me believing that Obama has been lying through his Lumineers to us cattle all along about having no idea Wright’s worldview was so, so rancid.
C’mon, Barack, there’s no way you did not know what was brewing in Wright’s brain in regard to his overt racism, or his love of Louis, or Jeremiah’s jeremiad against the USofA. You know you knew, Barry. One, as close as you confessed to have been to this cleric you could not but know that Wright is on fire—I said, he is on fire, muy caliente mucho fuego—with his beliefs. This leaves your current abhorrence of your mentor a little suspicious, Barack. Like in . . . please, save it man. Go sell crazy somewhere else and don’t insult us (again) with the too little, too late denial and feigned disdain. It appears that the pastor you used to prop up your political career has come home to roost—on your head. You forgot the old maxim, Obama, that if they make you, they can break you. Fo’ shizzle . . .