August 7, 2008
Mein Kampf Obama
Träume meines Vaters
(Dreams of my Father)
As Barack Obama chose the favorite monument of Adolf Hitler in Germany for his world image, appealing to the lowest of racial divides in Darwinism unleashed upon the world, it is fair to examine Mr. Obama compared in his struggle of world messiah to other Americans in a moment when the world focused upon them.
The real struggle though inside Barack Obama is of fascist Obama and communist Obama.
This past Sunday, the National Football League had it’s Hall of Fame Game where the elite of the NFL are inducted into the Canton Ohio, Hall of Fame.
I honestly hesitate in naming the 3 men who were inducted as it almost seems by their character and the esteem I have for them that they are almost degraded by appearing in a commentary about Barack Obama.
It is vital though that people see the gulf between the absolute lack of soul which Barack Obama has compared to these three Gentlemen.
The first is Andre Tippet of the New England Patriots. In his induction speech, he spoke of moving north with his mother with almost only the clothes on their back and how very important character was in life.
The second is Art Monk of the Washington Redskins. A more kinder and gentler soul there could not be. Mr. Monk does not speak so much with words, but his eyes and the inner glow which radiates from within. He is the epitome of class, grace and honor.
The third is Darrel Green of the Washington Redskins. As a child he was told he was too small, but his Dad just told him “GO”, and go he did as the fastest man in the NFL, playing 20 seasons and the person who Coach Joe Gibbs always turned to in clutch situations when the game was on the line.
Poverty, humbleness and being small in stature. All situations in life people are born with and yet these Gentlemen never once used it as an excuse. What I appreciate most about them is race is never a factor or brought up with them. They compete as Gentlemen, live as Gentleman and are Gentleman. There is a trust in Gentlemen like them, like Lovey Smith and Tony Dungee. One just enjoys their joy in life in being excellent for the individuals they are.
On the opposite is the world of Barack Obama. The following quotes are from his book Dreams of My Father. In reading the quotes, I see nothing what liberal reviewers are championing as a wonderful work.
It was a work which made me cringe as it was one which shows a much more troubled person than I had profiled before.
The most disturbing first lesson recorded by Barack Obama was in his exposure to Uncle Frank Marshall Davis. I can not fathom as a Grandparent why Grandpa Dunham ever exposed this teenager to someone who was a manipulative psychotic at the very least.
Perhaps from the quotes below Barry Obama was already a juvenile delingquent his Grandparents could not control, but exposing this teenager to Uncle Frank was like exposing Gary Coleman from the Facts of Life to Robert Mugabe.
Barack Obama records driving over to Uncle Frank’s and his story explains the horrid thing this psychotic did and accomplished:
The teenager, Barry Obama drove to Davis’ home in Waikiki after hearing a story that day from Grandmother Dunham. She saw a black beggar on the street by her bus stop and was so very afraid she did not want to take the bus to her job.
Uncle Frank then informed this child that his Grandmother Dunham was right to feel terrified because she comprehended blacks, QUOTE: “have a reason to hate.”
Davis would go on to inform Barry that his Grandfather Dunham would never understand blacks like Barry, because the Grandfather had not experienced being humiliated the way he had.
As Barry Obama left Uncle Frank that night, he stated he felt completely alone for the first time in his life.
Frank Marshall Davis was an intelligent man. Whenever any adult attempts to isolate anyone in order to make them vulnerable, it is deliberate. It was pure child abuse to do that to a vulnerable teenager to cut him off from the only base of support in this world in his Grandparents.
Whether Uncle Frank was doing this to simply create another miserable soul for his company in destroying the hope in a black child or if it was more malevolent in making a child vulnerable for molestation as Barack Obama surrounds himself with bisexuals and homosexuals now and that usually points to child abuse, it really does not make that great of difference now as Barack Obama’s mentor which he based his entire life on abused him deliberately.
No one but the worst of humanity lacking humanity would rip a child’s world apart leaving him alone in the world.
This entire base is Barack Obama and in his troubling autobiography it is worth quoting the following words of Barack Obama which are quite disturbing as they are coming from Barack Obama the man child.
Readers should be warned that Mr. Obama is quite foul mouthed and racist in his descriptions.
I began to notice that Cosby never got the girl on I Spy, that the black man on Mission Impossible spent all his time underground. I noticed that there was nobody like me in the Sears, Roebuck Christmas catalog that Toot and Gramps sent us, and that Santa was a white man. I kept these observations to myself, deciding that either my mother didn’t see them or she was trying to protect me and that I shouldn’t expose her efforts as having failed.
(This quote is key in noticing the word FAILED as Mr. Obama’s entire life is based in that word. It is why he gears himself to “change” which is code word for REVOLUTION.)
Ever since the first time I’d picked up Malcolm X’s autobiography, I had tried to untangle the twin strands of black nationalism, arguing that nationalism’s affirming message-of solidarity and self-reliance, discipline and communal responsibility-need not depend on hatred of whites any more than it depended on white munificence. We could tell this country where it was wrong, I would tell myself and any black friends who would listen, without ceasing to believe in its capacity for change.
(This is the key word of CHANGE or REVOLUTION which Barack Obama bases his transformation on. He is not speaking of hope and change, but failure and revolution.)
“There are white folks, and then there are ignorant motherf*ckers like you,” I had finally told the coach before walking off the court that day-Ray assured me that we would never talk about whites as whites in front of whites without knowing exactly what we were doing. Without knowing that there might be a price to pay.
(Key word to note is the sexualization of mothers. Barack Obama noted his mother was sexualized in his creation and has troubled by it all his abandoned life.)
To avoid being mistaken for a [racial] sellout, I chose my friends carefully. The more politically active black students. The foreign students. The Chicanos. The Marxist professors and structural feminists and punk-rock performance poets. We smoked cigarettes and wore leather jackets. At night, in the dorms, we discussed neocolonialism, Franz Fanon, Eurocentrism, and patriarchy.
(Key to this segment is Barack Obama surrounds himself with minorities, Marxists and artists as he judges the world as he sells himself out to the highest bidder.)
So I read the book to help me understand just what it is that makes white people so afraid. Their demons. The way ideas get twisted around. It helps me understand how people learn to hate.”
“And that’s important to you.”
My life depends on it, I thought to myself. But I didn’t tell Regina that. I just smiled and said, “That’s the only way to cure an illness, right? Diagnose it.”
I decided to keep my own counsel after that, learning to disguise my feverish mood.
(Fear is the key word. It is not white people Barack Obama knows is fearful. Fear is what drives Barack Obama.)
The bile that flowed freely not just out on the streets but in the stalls of Columbia’s bathrooms as well, where, no matter how many times the administration tried to paint them over, the walls remained scratched with blunt correspondence between n*ggers and k*kes.
(Key observation is Barack Obama is the bathroom with blank walls. Upon it is written the hatred of Uncle Frank and Mr. Obama’s own hand. No matter how much Columbia University tried to whitewash the hatred off of the soul of Barack Obama, he always found a way to turn life into a racial battle. Interestingly, he sees the battle between Black people and Jews and not White people and Black people.)
When the weather was good, my roommate and I might sit out on the fire escape to smoke cigarettes and study the dusk washing blue over the city, or watch white people from the better neighborhoods nearby walk their dogs down our block to let the animals shit on our curbs-“Scoop the poop, you bastards!” my roommate would shout with impressive rage, and we’d laugh at the faces of both master and beast, grim and unapologetic as they hunkered down to do the deed.
I enjoyed such moments-but only in brief.
(Key observation is that “king” Obama now sits upon the throne, secure from the world, and takes pleasure in verbal assault upon white people who he sees equal to dogs, and, by his actions is telling white people to clean up the sh*t which they have deposited upon Barack Obama’s chalkboard soul.)
They no longer know who I am. Privately, they guess at my troubled heart, I suppose-the mixed blood, the divided soul, the ghostly image of the tragic mulatto trapped between two worlds.
(Key word is ghostly in this troubled passage as ghosts are troubled spirits and dead inside. Barack Obama in writing he is dead inside.)
Mr. Obama has a most fractured view of this world. He tries in his early life to use the excuse of him being a minority among whites. In numerous Hawaiian schools though, it was the white children who were the “haole” and it was the mixed race of all Asian students and teachers who made white children feel like excrement.
White people were not the majority, so Barack Obama’s world view like Uncle Frank’s was completely off the mark.
Dreams of My Father ends like a nightmare in it’s conclusion. Mr. Obama describes his wedding to Michelle in strange joyful terms as she is not the focus, but instead that his brother Roy has turned to Islam in stopping drinking and turned to center himself in Africa.
It is in this that Roy transforms into the Barack that Barry wants to be, for Barry has chosen to reside in White America with those insensitive white folks, but his mirror image brother instead is growing in the epitome of eutopias of the Black community which is flourishing like a garden oasis surrounded by the desert sands of the whites.
Closing this commentary, there are no more fitting words than Barack Hussein Obama:
Quote Dreams of My Father:
“I found a solace in nursing a pervasive sense of grievance and animosity against my mothers race.”
Quote Audacity of Hope:
“I will stand with the Muslims should the political winds shift in an ugly direction.”
That sums up a Barack Obama who should alarm any intelligent person.
Barack Obama either needs the company of Gentlemen like Andre Tippet, Art Monk and Darrel Green or Democrats need to put Mr. Tippet, Mr. Monk or Mr. Green on the ticket as I would gladly vote for them in their character and accomplishment.
Mein kampf Obama, as he struggles in the fight within.