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The Nappy Diatribe

One man's throat-chopping reportage.

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"Call me Naive, but I sorta believe!"

Posted 01/08/2008 at 5:47 PM | Comment?

"Call me Naive, but I sorta believe" sounds like a campaign slogan an indecisive politician might adopt, but those were the exact words that escaped my hairy mandible as I talked to my friend DanTres immediately following Barack Obama's win in Iowa - a statement in stark contrast to my previous belief that there wasn't a snowballs chance in Lil Kim's vagina that America would ever elect a black man to the highest office in the land. Since I come from a state that almost re-elected a known bigot who manufactures innovative slurs for black folks in his spare time, I'm fully versed on the doctorate degree that many Americans hold in Racism 101 - I, like so many others, felt that the spark that was Obama's presidential campaign would fizzle out faster than Taylor Hicks' career. Also, to be quite candid - my main concern was for the brother's safety - every time I'd see him greeting enthusiastic crowds I found myself yelling "Get him the fuck out of there!" as if his secret service team could actually hear me. It was akin to watching a showering blond in a 2nd rate horror flick.

But last week as I witnessed his lead widen over the other democratic candidates in Iowa during the course of the night, reminding myself that he was doing so in a state as lillywhite as a goth chick's butt-cheeks, then watching his pitch perfect victory speech that tugged at the proverbial heart-strings of a known asshole that an ex-girlfriend once labeled as "emotionally unavailable" - not only did it inspire me to throw caution to the wind in the name of history, but it also occurred to me that this is the first candidate in my lifetime that I ever felt any excitement for. I mean, in 1992 I was 18 and far from the political junkie that I am now - Bill Clinton was a good president, but my initial vote for "Slick Willie" probably had more to do with his "Arsenio" appearance than any foreign policy agenda he might have had at the time. Then I proceeded to co-sign the arkansonian based on his successful first term in 1996. By the time 2000 had rolled around I had long acclimated myself in the world of politics, the word "excitement" isn't exactly the first adjective that would come to mind whenever Al Gore's name is invoked - but it didn't take a rocket science to know that George W. Bush was as articulate as a retarded stroke victim, so doing my part to save mankind I voted for our most recent Nobel Prize winner. John Kerry seems like a better fabric of human being than George W. Bush, but voting for him was strictly done to evict a certain Connecticut native from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue - I would have voted for Carrot-Top if he was the Democratic Nominee for Christs sake, only if he promised to sporadically go to his box of props during his State of the Union Addresses. But as I started to realize that an Obama nomination would be the first time I'd be voting for someone and not against them, I immediately thought about my father - and something that has haunted my very existence ever since his untimely passing in 2001.

See, my father's tear ducts were severely underused, a two tour Vietnam veteran whose bravery was constantly co-signed every time I listened to one of his war buddies vividly describe his acts of heroism as if they were pitching a Clint Eastwood movie - and even though I was a rebellious youth, I secretly didn't want any parts of him because an altercation with the old fella had "loss" written all over it. By far the toughest son of a bitch that I've ever known. That being said, there were only two occasions that I'd ever witnessed my father shed a tear - both times had to do with his utter disgust over witnessing his Navy brethren cheer the Assassination of John F Kennedy with child-like exuberance. A man from the deep south who saw racism so intense that it makes the "but you are so articulate!" complaint seem like a petty semantic argument, had no problem wiping tears from his weathered face while saying to me "Those motherfuckers cheered because it was perceived that JFK was for black people" - even though cancer snatched my father from the mortal coil in 2001, that one episode of morbid insensitivity killed a piece of my father more than 44 years ago.

Thanks to my old man, even as Hillary captures a win from Obama in New Hampshire - this year I will get behind a candidate that I truly believe in - refusing to play the scared negro role by lowering expectations and setting up the flimsiest of straw-man counter-arguments against an Obama presidency just to spare my own feelings - as I proved by a drunk F-Bomb laden tirade I let off last night in the direction of some Obama skeptics, inspired by Edward Norton's bathroom scene in "25th Hour".

"Fuck you. Fuck you, this country, and everyone in it. Fuck our antique civil rights leaders, emerging from the shadows of three decades worth of inactivity, actually being arrogant enough to think that black people would automatically follow your lead when you proceeded to perpetuate a manufactured hesitancy about Obama. Your jealousy and unfulfilled political potential is as obvious as the outcome of a Scooby-Doo episode. Shouldn't you be somewhere obsessing over rap lyrics or the latest episode of the "Boondocks" motherfucker?

"Fuck all the conservative columnists pretending to fawn all over Obama, nothing but journalistic con men - Eddie Haskell's with op-ed articles. Newsflash: Mrs. Clever knows that beneath the insincere graciousness and shit-eating grin lies an agenda driven political kamikaze.

Fuck the liberal blogisphere, when they aren't exposing a brand of racism that they claim to reject - they're either complaining about Obama appealing to republicans and conservatives, or acting as if he's attacking other democrats when he says that he doesn't want to duplicate the mistakes of 2000 and 2004. No wonder why we stay losing, if people don't have the wherewithal to understand that a black man can never get elected without appealing to every registered voter - maybe we deserve the Bush's of the world wiping their collective asses with the constitution and urinating on Habeas Corpus.

Fuck Hillary Clinton, when the mantle of "inevitability" disappeared before your campaigns conscience did, you proceeded to execute the Karl Rove playbook with masterful precision - shamelessly distorting Obama's record and smearing the man by throwing as many smears against the wall to see what would stick. Don't believe me, where else did hear the claim that electing a new face could prompt terrorist attacks?

Fuck Bill Clinton, the first black president my ass - maybe I would have bought into that shallow notion if an intelligent woman named Sista Souljah had never been born. Not only have you tried to recklessly revise history in terms of your own stance on the Iraq war, but your main argument about an Obama presidency is that America would be "rolling the dice" - isn't that the exact same tactic they used against you in 1992?

Fuck the black blogisphere, inventing nonsensical nit-picks for not supporting Obama that come across more as nervous ticks than legitimate grievances - they provide nothing but intellectually dishonest "I still don't know who I'm voting for" rhetoric because they're either too gutless so they hedge their bets, or they think that a segment of their audience actually finds eye-rolling indecision "cool". So you'd have me to believe that, say in a hypothetical Obama vs Romney race, casting your vote would take painstaking consideration? Just kill yourself already, no one would fucking miss you.

*Burp* Bartender, how much do I owe you?"

Ed Norton scene in "25th Hour"