By Repair Man Jack Posted in 2008 — Comments (5) / Email this page » / Leave a comment »
A big Hat Tip and a gracious bow to Cheetah772 for this post to get the ball rolling.
I reach a certain point with American politics where the disingenuous fraud makes me genuinely queasy in my stomach. Barack Obama’s latest defense against the dread charge of elitism leaves me reaching for the Tums and hoping that coffee and breakfast will both settle back down.
While Barack never had to beg Simon LeGree for manumission from harvesting pine trees on a turpentine farm, he does overcome his overbearing shame and confesses to the humiliation of living off of food stamps. Archer Daniels Midland thanks him for the earmark. Barack Obama’s family had almost as much business collecting food stamp aid as Warren Buffet’s.
It was a tough go of it, attending one of the most prestigious prep schools in The State of Hawaii. Oh how he must have suffered as he walked up hill both ways to a school featuring the following hardscrabble subsistence living.
The Punahou School campus covers 76 acres at the edge of lush Manoa Valley. Students occupy 44 school buildings, including three libraries and learning centers; computer areas and language labs; an impressive physical education facility (that includes a gymnasium, 50-meter pool, Mondo track, playing fields, racquetball and tennis courts, and weight and training facilities); and art facilities that include jewelry, ceramics and glassblowing.-Punahou Academy Website; Campus and Facilities.
I can’t imagine how much poor, little Barack must have suffered. It’s enough to make deranged Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov brain the landlord. Poverty like life at The Punahou Academy must really grind a young person down.
Read on . . .
This was the sort of upbringing that must inspired Grandmaster Flash to pen these lyrics in what many consider the first true Hip-Hop song; “The Message.”
You'll grow in the ghetto livin' second-rate
And your eyes will sing a song called deep hate
The places you play and where you stay
Looks like one great big alleyway
You'll admire all the number-book takers
Thugs, pimps and pushers and the big money-makers
Drivin' big cars, spendin' twenties and tens
And you'll wanna grow up to be just like them, huh
Yeah, those mean streets of lush Monoa Valley. It’s a wonder Barack didn’t grow up twisted and hard. America is fortunate that the great man rose above his humble beginnings and dusty dirt floors.
I can believe his mother had it tough after Daddy took a walk on her. I’m sure working, attending class and raising the smartest young lad since Einstein left her hanging on by a thread. However, she was taking Ph.D. classes, not completing the GED after ringing up orders at Hardee’s.
I remember my own time as a Grad Student at UCLA; working on a stipend. I rode the city bus and rented an apartment where the dirt poisoned the cockroaches so that I never had a really bad bug infestation. It wasn’t a great life, but I never needed food stamps and only saw the Rampart Division of the LAPD respond to two major crime scenes near my humble abode.
As long as I was reasonably frugal, I had enough scratch left over for an occasional trip to Dodger Stadium to enjoy a cold one and a baseball game. South Hollywood could be nasty some times, but it was never what I’d describe as a Hooverville.
Does a minimal set of circumstances prevent a person from taking on airs? No way. Judging from the people I interacted with in Los Angeles, it never stopped anyone attending a highly ranked graduate school. The cancer of elitism does not originate from a level of material wealth. Elitism comes from a worldview and a state of mind.
I could experience every hardship, misfortune, and tergiversation that you, the Constant Reader have endured and still be an utter King Richard about it. Elitism comes from an empty soul, not a full treasury. Earning three times as much income as I did six years ago doesn’t make me three times the man.
Barack Obama may have paid for his steak with food stamps, but he would still turn up his snobbish nose at the idea of having little, old me join him for dinner and a beer. Pay no attention to his ongoing production of Les Miserables. This is just an example of a bitter, resentful man; clinging to a sense of false consciousness.