I have yet to master Twitter. I try, and I certainly appreciate how the social network can be used effectively. For all intents and purposes, this newest contributor to America’s Right has indeed figured out how to best utilize 140 characters to spread common sense far and wide. I’m just thrilled that he agreed to exceed his 140-character limit and send a few pieces of writing our way every once in a while.
His name is Adam Baldwin. Like me, you might know him as Animal Mother from Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket. Others might know him as John Casey from NBC’s Chuck, or that guy at Area 51 from Independence Day. Personally, I’m far less concerned with what he does during the day–I don’t always write about legal issues, after all, just as editors Johnny Lathrop and John Feeny more often than not deviate from economic and education-related issues–than how passionately and effectively he utilizes his spare moments to advocate for freedom and advance liberty.
As you know, I don’t set quotas for contributors here. AR is put together for regular folks by regular folks, and regular folks have regular lives. With any luck, Adam will find the time now and again to leave Twitter’s 140-character limit in the dust and bring his advocacy to America’s Right. In the meantime, enjoy his piece below, and be sure to follow him on Twitter once you’re done. — Jeff
The personal lives and history of American presidents have always captured the imagination of the American people. Presidential lives have always been under a microscope, but never more so than in the age of 24-hour news and the constant vigilance of the new media.
This past weekend, President Barack Obama was asked by a reporter about polls showing that approximately one-fifth of the American people believe that he is a Muslim. The president replied, as Glenn Thrush at Politico reported, by blaming an “online campaign of misinformation by his conservative enemies” for perpetuating myths about his personal life and history.
Yet Obama himself has only selectively gone out of his way to dispel rumor and shed light, albeit implicitly, on exactly how his own upbringing has contributed to his perspective and worldview as president of the United States.
Take, for example, how he recently snubbed the Boy Scouts of America’s 100th Anniversary Jamboree, choosing instead to appear on ABC’s The View to kvetch about his deep-seated identity crises stemming from his “mongrel” pedigree.
Obama, as he freely admitted on The View and as he has shown time and time again, will allow others to identify him as an African-American, but he bristled at Barbara Walters’ suggestion that he was “bi-racial.” Mealy-mouth words aside, just because he doesn’t look white there are considerable reasons he relates more to his black father than his white mother.
Barack Hussein Obama, Sr. is the absent instigator that created little Barry. He remains the enduring force that abandoned an innocent child already starving for acceptance. His mother, the weaker white half, represents little more than an oppressed victim.
Obama immortalized his absent dad in his bestseller, Dreams From My Father. In the book, it is written of mongrel’s precursor, miscegenation:
The word is humpbacked, ugly, portending a monstrous outcome: like antebellum or octoroon, it evokes images of another era, a distant world of horsewhips and flames, dead magnolias and crumbling porticos.
Did Obama forget his own book’s monstrosity during his warm self-depiction on The View?
Is he unaware of the Ku Klux Klan’s historical use of such jargon?
Take the late Sen. Robert Byrd, for example:
I shall never fight in the armed forces with a Negro by my side… Rather I should die a thousand times, and see Old Glory trampled in the dirt never to rise again, than to see this beloved land of ours become degraded by race mongrels, a throwback to the blackest specimen from the wilds.
Mongrel. Maybe it’s just another divisive slogan he learned in Afro-Studies class at Occidental, or Harvard.
Nevertheless, a healthier man would have written Reality From My Mother’s Parents.
If Barack the Elder had taken, say, a Kenyan wife instead of a white American spouse, then Barry would have been truly black. He would have been down for the struggle, or maybe even a Muslim patriarch like his father and grandfather before.
America has neither experienced nor imagined until now a President whining as much about his childhood and background as this One. America has never before seen One who has really gotten into it, group-therapy-style.
Projection explains his evolution. His true believer, “spread-the-wealth-around” approach to governance. He had an unhappy childhood–just like America with its slavery, racism and class-envy oppressions–so America is entitled to his enforcement of an otherwise denied happy national childhood, damn it!
Like Peter Pan, Barry imagines that the nation cannot catch him and make him a man. Everybody gets to have their piece of happiness foisted upon them–as natural as childhood itself–from his utopian, Neverland perch.
Like many self-appointed leaders in group therapy, Obama anoints himself as the people’s special champion. He knows best, and cannot be bothered with the trivial consent of the governed. He even keeps close an enabler-at-large in his bossy, co-dependent “eat-your-agrarian-small-garden-greens!” scold, Michelle.
Compassion for the president’s condition should neither include tolerance of his caustic rhetoric nor, more gravely, allow his further testicular lassitude in matters of State.
Many may empathize with his long-term daddy issues, but he’s now the president of our United States of America, for God’s sake! We must no longer let him off the grow-up-already! hook any more than we would otherwise encourage parents to neglect their kid’s Ritalin dosage.
Mr. Obama requires an intervention. The American People will soon have the opportunity to show him the tough love that he needs for our country’s benefit: first, by ousting his enabling congressional majorities in November, and then by ensuring that he not be reelected in 2012.
For the free world to remain free, this man-child must be disallowed from masking his old pain and cold anger by remaining in office beyond this current destructive term. He needs to face his demons head on. But he can’t do that if we continue to enable him.
Narcissism is neither self-worth nor self-respect — and its flip side, self-loathing, is demonstrated by his mongrelized buzzword and other realistic radical euphemisms.
Ache for Obama all you wish, but please do so as you would for a bipolar ex-girlfriend. You wouldn’t let her move back in, would you?
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UPDATE: Monday, 11:00 p.m
President Obama addressed a Milwaukee, WI crowd during a Labor Day rally today and stated, apparently off the cuff:
Some powerful interests that have been dominating the agenda in Washington for a long time, and they’re not always happy with me. They talk about me like a dog. That’s not in my prepared remarks, but it’s true.
Yet, when discussing what kind of family dog he and Michelle would get for the kids, the president said that he wanted “a mutt, like me.” And, of course, sitting among fawning women (and one skeptical lady) on The View, he proudly characterized himself as part of a “mongrel” people. “Mongrel,” of course, is historically a racist pejorative when used in a Byrd-like context, but also more generally denotes an inferior, mixed-breed dog. On The View:
The interesting thing about the ‘African American’ experience in this country is that we are sort of a mongrel people. I mean, we are all kind [sic] of mixed up. And, now that’s actually true for white America as well, but we ['African Americans'] just know more about it.
So, to clarify:
President Obama projected pride in considering himself a “mixed-up mongrel” who knows more about the trials and tribulations of “mixed-up mongrels” than do whites, but feels victimized by unnamed “powerful interests” that talk about him “like a dog.”
All straw dogs are equal, it seems, but some mongrels are more equal than others.
Sincere gratitude to KJ Adan for contributing to this piece.