Since the holidays are upon us and folks out there have happy thoughts on their minds, like how long are the in-laws intending to stay? Would our visiting siblings think it rude if we suggested they keep their out of control spoiled kids in a crate while visiting and is their any way we could pretend to have died so they won’t show up?
If you have an answer to any of these holiday problems please share with the group. We all need a little help once in a while. And so, in the spirit of Christmas and because some have mentioned to me that what I write at times depress them,(you know who you are) here’s a sort of fun blog for the holiday.
We all know that Obama has this imaginary son. You know, “If I had a son he’d look like.” Well I’ve decided to fill in the blanks and shed a little light on what that kids been up to. After there interview for People magazine, the Obama’s wanted everyone to know what they had to go through just for being black.
Obama said, “The small irritations or indignities that we experience are nothing compared to what a previous generation experienced. It’s one thing for me to be mistaken for a waiter at a gala. It’s another thing for my son to be mistaken for a robber and to be handcuffed, or worse, if he happens to be walking down the street dressed the way teenagers dress.”
Goodness me, once again his imaginary son has found himself unfairly in trouble with the law. If you’ll think back his imaginary son was also shot by an imaginary neighborhood watch guard in the same style as Trayvon Martin. Thank God that this imaginary son is plucky and resilient and can keep bouncing back.
In his life, Obama’s imaginary son has been shot at, concussed out of football, and racially profiled. Yet he keeps picking himself up and carrying on. This son of Obama’s should be an example to us all. No matter what kind of imaginary circumstances we find ourselves in, we can continue on with our imaginary lives.
One day we can hopefully move on from racism experience by imaginary people — and, lets face it, the country doesn’t have the best record for its treatment of imaginary people. We have, however, made progress in the civil rights of these people and for that we, as a country should be proud. We shouldn’t ignore, however, the real truth that racism toward imaginary sons is still a real problem, as our President constantly reminds us. We can’t be afraid to have the conversation, no matter how painful it might be, about continuing the crucial healing needed by imaginary people.
On the other hand I have to say I see a problem in all this. Why does the Presidents imaginary son constantly put himself in these situations? Could it be Obama’s own failings as an imaginary parent? Maybe his imaginary son is trying to rebel against the pressures of being the first imaginary son of the United States. Or, it could be that the President needs to see that he has better fitting clothes and be told to stay in school instead of constantly getting in trouble with the police.
Come to think of it, this is rather a sad tale. I mean the man himself has been racially profiled so often that he has to cite an imaginary person out of thin air to prove his story. Obviously this mans story isn’t about overcoming an absent father, being raised by loving grandparents, attending Columbia and Harvard, and becoming the main man of America.
His story as he constantly tells us is being mistaken for a waiter, something his closest adviser also did to a four-start general.
And we can’t leave the first muscle bound lady out of the story. She informs us that Barack was a black man that lived on the South Side of Chicago, who had his share of troubles catching cabs.” Gosh, it just makes you want to cry!
Not to be outdone she’s had her share of bad times as well. Why there she was incognito just doing what we all do, shopping at Target. Near tears she tells us that though she was not highly disguised, the only person to come up to her in the store was a woman who asked for her help to get something off the top shelf. Why, gosh, she didn’t see me as the first lady she saw me as someone who could help her.
Can you imagine the gull of that woman. I do think that the problem lies in the sentence, “though I was not highly disguised this woman was the only person who came up to her.”Sounds to me like she was mad because she wasn’t recognized. Like she wanted to be so she could say she was doing what all we peasants do.
Think about this however, here’s a family that has everything they could possibly want except a crown, yet all they do is complain about their imaginary son. Come to think about it that imaginary trouble maker would probably have attended private schools in Chicago and Sidwell Private School in DC, just like his two real sisters do. His imaginary son would get his pick of any college in the world, like O’s real daughters. He’d go on to any career he chose, but for all that, mainly because it doesn’t fit the template all they can do is complain about how bad they have it.
I have only one solution to this whole problem. In order to fix it and get our imaginations tuned in to what’s racially correct, we need as quickly as possible to get rid of our imaginary President. I know that’s all I want for Christmas.
If you think about it this is blatant discrimination to the vertically enhanced. How dare we short people ask anyone for help to reach something high? Haven’t the tall had to endure enough. Ceiling fans, airplane leg room, doorway lintels or having to be asked “hey, how’s the weather up there?” on a constant basis. Perhaps we need a national conversation about heightism.
As a short person, just five foot, I find asking someone for help rather liberating.
Sung to” Help” by the Beatles. When I was younger, so much younger than today, I didn’t need anybody’s help in any way. But now I’m shorter than I was some time ago, I changed my mind, and now I find, I’m climbing up the shelves. . . Help me if you can to get it down—and I do appreciate you being round–help me keep both feet upon the ground–oh please, please lift me, oh please oh please oh——
Finally have a wonderful Christmas and remember that without Christ, there would be no Christmas. How anyone can look at a newborn, listen to Chick-a-dee call out on a winters day, watch a brilliant sunset on a frosty winters eve, be amazed at the endless shades of green when spring arrives, and not realized there is a God, is to me unfathomable. God is everywhere and is in everything. He’s that still small voice that give hope in sorrow, joy in accomplishment, love in a relationship, strength to overcome weakness, tomorrow when today is over, and peace when all around you is chaos. He came because he loved, even knowing what the end would be, if only we could be that selfless. Love to all and have a Blessed Christmas.