I wasn't one of those who abided by a self imposed media blackout on coronation day. The reason being, my progeny attends school in the District and was attending the inaugural, leading me to spend a twenty four hour cycle with no sleep while he braved his way through sodom and gomorah, freezing and in pain from high top Timberlands. I tuned in to the spectacle, hoping to see Princess Di at least, but alas, true royalty has gone to a better place. So, I plopped down on the couch, drank bottles of water though I wished they were vodka, and glued myself to the various channels, choosing the least of the gushing offenders. So far, so good. No gunshots, no chemical bombs, no planes in restricted airspace. I literally held out hope that I would catch a glimpse of my kid in the sea of inhumanity; I believe the name for this condition is "crazed mamma syndrome." Once things got underway, I concentrated on the various dignitaries and not so dignifieditaries who came through the Capitol's portal. On Carter, On Kennedy, On Mondale, On Blitzen, and then the superstars appeared. I was momentarily concerned but the crowd gave a roaring welcome to the rightful winner of the Democratic primary, you know her I think. (and of course, Bill.)
Warren, and Feinstein, some african american poet that would never have been there had she been of a different race because I swear, her poetry wouldn't have made it onto Mrs. Edmead's fifth grade wall of prose. It made no sense, not one word of it. The millions were silenced, and probably had some much needed rest whilst she blathered on about nothing. And then, oh yes, rise up children, for here is the creme de la creme of the AUDACITY OF RACISM. The Reverend Joseph Lowery stood at the podium and well, here, take a look.
Now sometimes we forgive the elderly for they know not what they do, but it seems to me that the very people who put "that one" in office are caucasian, or as we say in the hood, white. Still not satisfied? The President has no clothes and the Emperor is wearing Armani. What the hell does it take to stop the reverse racism? We've already endured enough sexism for our collective lifetimes, and Johnny Mac was subjected to endless not-so-amusing tirades concerning his age, skin cancer, and lack of soaring rhetoric.
Now, "that one" had a choice. He could have not been so hearty in his appreciation when he went to thank the geezer after the hate speech. But knowing he can do no wrong and certainly not get chastised for it if he did, he took the easy highway and hugged the hunched over little man. And when I say little, I mean, little of mind.
Did you hear the laughter and applause? The baby bots loved it!
So just for the record, I'm white and I got it right.