By Steve Sailer
03/21/2008
"I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother … a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street … " — Barack Obama, 3/18/08.
As part of my ongoing plot to divert the course of history and elect Hillary and/or McCain President by sitting here in my underwear typing into my blog passages from Presidential candidate Barack Obama’s bestselling 1995 autobiography, here’s an excerpt from pp. 269-271, discussing his Chicago years in his mid-20s, in which Obama expresses the same supposed anti-black "racism" which he recently attributed to his 85-year-old grandma.
"That night, well past midnight, a car pulls up in front of my apartment building, carrying a troop of teenage boys and a set of stereo speakers so loud that the floor of my apartment begins to shake. I've learned to ignore such disturbances — where else do they have to go? I say to myself. But on this particular evening I have someone staying over …
"'Listen, people, are trying to sleep around here. Why don’t y'all take it someplace else?'
"The four boys inside say nothing, don’t even move. The wind wipes away my drowsiness, and I feel suddenly exposed, standing in a pair of shorts on the sidewalk in the middle of the night … . One of them could be Kyle. One of them could be Roy. One of them could be Johnnie."
Kyle, Roy, and Johnnie are all black male characters in Dreams from My Father — in other words, the fellas in the car are black.
The chapter ends:
"The engine starts, and the car screeches away. I turn back toward my apartment knowing that I've been both stupid and lucky, knowing that I am afraid after all."
Shocking, isn’t it?
To make this comprehensible, I left out hundreds of intervening words of vintage Obama posturing about what a bad-ass he had been when he was the same age and philosophizing about the meaning of it all. Let me quote one sentence to show you why so few people ever finish reading Dreams from My Father:
"As I stand there, I find myself thinking that somewhere down the line both guilt and empathy speak to our own buried sense that an order of some sort is required, not the social order that exists, necessarily, but something more fundamental and more demanding; a sense, further, that one has a stake in this order, a wish that, no matter how fluid this order sometimes appears, it will not drain out of the universe."
I think this means Obama is admitting to himself that he’s just realized he’s now on the side of the cops rather than on the side of the criminals. But getting his point across is not the point of most of Sen. Obama’s verbal efforts. (In this respect, Obama is the exact opposite of Rev. Dr. God Damn America, who is a master at distilling his meaning down to an agitating phrase, such as "U.S. of K.K.K.") The candidate’s goal is more typically to induce in the reader or listener a trance-like state of admiration of Obama’s thoughtfulness. He’s expert at implanting the idea, "Surely, such an intelligent person must agree with me. All we need to do to end these wearying partisan disputes is to turn power over to a reasonable man, a man much like, say, Barack Obama!"
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