Bow Down for the Bend-Over

With all the fanfare surrounding our President's European tour, with the entire mini-continent all on Obama's Balzac, it's no surprise that America's conservatives are off their collective nut with rage. They've decided that they hate The Big Brother, that his every action makes the bile rise in their throats. Therefore, they are basically automatically outraged by the man's every action--and every action of his wife.

Earlier this week, the First Lady got into trouble for putting her hand on Queen Elizabeth's shoulder. Outrage ensued--followed quickly by controversy. "Violations of protocol!" Yadda yadda. Some were so red-faced, you'd think Michelle kissed Liz's head with a bottle and stole her purse. Eventually, Bob Costas, John Madden, and a telestrator were brought in to analyze the tape. Apparently, the Queen put her arm around the First Lady first, prompting our Lady to put her hand on their Lady's shoulder in what experts are now calling a "reciprocation of affection."



Having finally overcome that controversial obstacle, the White House has stumbled into another with the President's bowing before Saudi Arabia's King Abdullah. Screed Queen, Michelle Malkin says the whole thing is "embarrassing" and (ironically, in light of the last administration) complains, "It's like the 'American Hillbillies go to Europe.' He is throwing American power and prestige out with both hands as fast as he can." Defender of the Faith, Gary Bauer, of course, sees a Muslim conspiracy in that nefarious bow. As though the Saudis will now dictate US foreign policy in the region. As though they haven't been doing just that the past eight years.

As Costas, Madden, and the telestrator are once again employed to examine whether or not this was indeed a bow and etiquette experts like Gloria Starr calculate the exact ratio of degree-of-bow to loss-of-American-power, I'll be the first to admit that I actually don't give a shit about any of it. I'll also admit that I didn't care when W. actually held Crown Prince Abdullah's hand during their romantic stroll in Crawford back in '05. Now, don't get me wrong, I made jokes. How couldn't I? Just look at them. But I actually didn't care.



I think whether the President bows, holds hands, kisses, cuddles, or spoons another leader matters about as much as the Pirates' World Series plans. However, for the past 60+ years our country has bent over backwards to please the House of Saud to the point of utterly fucking ourselves, and that's what we seriously have to look into.

FDR started the contortions in 1943, making Saudi Arabia (a neutral country) eligible for Lend-Lease assistance. Saudi security was considered vital to US interests, and that's been our position ever since. The House of Saud could do whatever it wanted (oppress their women, torture its dissidents, spread virulent anti-American Islam worldwide, whatever); as long as they pumped the cheap crude, we'd cover their asses.

It wasn't a pretty relationship, but no junky/dealer relationship ever is. But, during the Cold War, this despicable deal made some sort of realpolitik sense. But the canoodling really needed to stop after September 11.

It's not just that 11 of the 19 hijackers were Saudi or even that Osama himself is Saudi. It's that, for decades, while we Americans have made that country rich by consuming their oil, while we've bolstered and equipped their military with aid they never needed in the first place, while we looked the other way when it came to their abysmal human rights record, and while we went to war to save their oil and asses, the Saudis have been funding the very terrorists who aimed to kill us while spending billions to indoctrinate Muslim children around the world to replace the terrorists who died that day.

It would seem that anybody who did all that to contribute to and actively encourage your own destruction would be classified an enemy. But Bush twisted the Saudis into dance partners.



But not only did the main funders and mentors of al Qaeda become our "biggest allies" in W.'s ack-basswards "War on Terror," but Pakistan (the country that formed and funded the Taliban) became our second biggest allies. How our worst enemies somehow morphed into our greatest allies is still beyond me. It's as though, after Pearl Harbor, FDR joined us to the Axis and we went on to invade Spain and Argentina.

Has such a powerful country ever been so utterly fucked over by a smaller nation only to bend over and ask for more? Back in the day, we nuked Japan. Rome plowed Carthage under with salt. But now our allies whisper sweet-nothings in our politicians' ears while their underlings blow the living shit out of our soldiers.

Now, Lord knows, I don't want us to nuke Saudi Arabia, and the salt thing seems a little too ... well, Biblical. I don't even want us to invade the peninsula. I just want to know why W. never called these "allies" of ours to task. Why did W. insist on calling them "friends"?

While these cons are screaming about Obama's bow, why have they never answered why Boy George was always so eager to bend over for the Saudis? Our thankfully former president not only never caught bin Laden, but he never made the Saudis pay in any way for their involvement with 9/11 or the global network of Islamic terror. There were no breaking of ties, no economic sanctions. We never curbed our "addiction to oil" or even tried to switch dealers.

I'm thinking Malkin, Bauer, and their brood would better utilize their time if they stopped speculating if Obama gave Abdullah a 25-, 40-, or 90-degree bow and actually get to the bottom of the mystery that was W.'s diplomatic policy towards the Saudis. Perhaps, they can even start speculating on whether or not our relationship with that country is even worth continuing.

Now, look, I understand what it's like to hate, hate, HATE! one of our presidents. I spent the last eight years filled with rage everytime I saw that Connecticut Texan on the boob tube. I hated his goofy smile, his chuckle. I even hated the way he walked--like something powerfully uncomfortable was lodged up his rectum--you know, Cheney's forearm. But, more importantly, I hated Bush's supposed "War on Terror," his lying to get us into Iraq, I hated his constant calling for tax cuts despite growing deficits, and I hated his utterly contempt for governance itself, which I believe led to levees breaking, bridges collapsing, poisoned children's toys, and collapsed banks.

So, in the grand scheme of things, how important is Obama's Bow, really? What really matters here is the Bush Bend-Over our country's been experiencing for over seven years now and whether or not Obama's simply going to "assume the position" or actually go in a different, "bold" direction and somehow extricate us from these "Wars" of ours and possibly from the region altogether.

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"The Wonderful Adventures of Dick & Hussein"

The prospective title of George W. Bush's proposed memoir. You know, for the kids!


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W Made Me Vote--RNC Made Me a Democrat

According to family lore, I was practically born political. Little William, all of four years of age, as my father likes to brag, stood up before his dad's business school students and proudly proclaimed, "They're gonna 'peach Nixon away!"

For the next 18 years, I was a staunch Democrat. I vaguely remember loving the election results in 1976. I wanted Kennedy to beat Carter and then wanted him to step down because he was making it too easy for Reagan. I was disgusted all throughout the Reagan/Bush years. I was even depressed that the 1988 Pennsylvania primary happened five days before I reached my majority, and I would never be able to vote for Jesse.

As a lifelong Dem, I should've been ecstatic over Clinton, but I wasn't. I was disgusted. Just the year before I was canvassing for the party, going door-to-door, to drum up support for what ultimately became the Family and Medical Leave Bill. I'd gone out of my way to make sure Harris Wofford beat Dick Thornburg for the PA Senate seat. But by '92, Rodney King and the riots had happened. I just couldn't believe in the American Experiment any longer, and nothing Clinton could say would make me think differently. I did vote for Carol Mosely Braun for Senate, though, and Lenora Fulani for Prez. that year. But that was it. I didn't want to vote again.

I'd become a Leftist, an anarchist to be more exact (don't laugh). I didn't want to vote anymore. I didn't want to give my stamp of approval to a system I no longer believed in. And, while I believed there were some philosophical differences between Democrats and Republicans, I didn't think those differences were fundamental. They still believed in the System. It was chicken or beef with them--no vegetarian option in sight. And I had a big beef with a country that allowed Rodney Kings, Desert Storms, death penalties, etc., to exist. Things had to change, and our system was not built for the fundamental changes I wanted. In fact, I thought the system was built so that one, elected official couldn't make that much of a difference in how this country was run.


W. changed all that. Leftist Bill, of course, greeted his "election" with self-satisfied smugness. While the true believers screeched that the election "proved" that "every vote counts," 2000 actually proved quite the opposite. When all was said and done, Justices Scalia, Thomas, Rehnquist, O'Connor, and Kennedy had the only votes that truly mattered in a country of over 250 million people. Quite the opposite of the Democracy we've been taught to value.

2000 seems like a lifetime ago. I was smug in my own ignorance, I soon came to realize. I thought Bush was just a harmless, little savant who'd be gone in four years. Then 9/11 happened, and everything changed. I knee-jerked and was against the invasion of Afghanistan until I came to realize that every elected official in the history of the world would've invaded. It was the PATRIOT Act, the mass deportations, GITMO, FISA, all of it, that made me realize how dangerous the Bush Babee truly was.


The Iraq invasion put me over the top. Not only did I not believe the spiel nor did I disagree and protest the war, but that was one place where I could point to where it actually did matter who we had elected to the Presidency. Al Gore never would've ousted Saddam. No other elected official would've dared to get us into this elective war. None of them would've casually thrown out 30 years of military policy and committed our armed forces to a long, drawn-out war of occupation. No, this was personal for Bush, and if he'd have lost the Supreme Court vote, we never would've been bogged down in Mesopotamia.

The man had to be stopped. W. had to go. So, I registered to vote and, for the first time in 12 years, I did vote. For Kerry. And nothing depressed me more than W.'s re-election.


When 2008 rolled around, I figured I'd vote for the Dem who eventually won the nomination. I just knew that I didn't want the GOP in the White House again. When the primaries started, I only cared as a political junkie. I'm into the race horse, too, but I didn't feel personally invested.

I figured, despite common wisdom, Hillary would not win because of her baggage and lack of a (scrotal) sack. I thought Richardson was the most qualified, but America wasn't ready for a Latino POTUS. I liked Obama enough, but I thought he was a flash in the pan, someone white folks liked because he made them feel better about themselves ("See, I'm not racist--I like Barack Obama"). I just couldn't take the brother seriously. I figured, when the rubber hit the road and all those white people had to pull the lever, they'd ultimately go with the white guy, and the cutest white guy around was John Edwards.


But then Iowa happened, and I had to change my thinking. I mean, if all those lillies of the cornfields voted for the black man, I had to take Obama seriously.

Unfortunately, the Clintons came to the same conclusion. The attack was on, and it was dirty. There was Hillary belittling MLK and lauding LBJ for the Civil Rights movement (while I always marvel at LBJ's courage in pushing the legislation through, knowing his party would forever lose the "Solid South," let's be honest: LBJ died of old age; MLK, from a bullet), and then Bill totally discounted the black vote (after we vigorously supported him through thick and thin) saying "of course" we'd vote for Obama because he was black--never caring to admit that we black automatons didn't vote for Al Sharpton nor Carol Mosely Braun during their Presidential runs nor that we'd never support Alan Keyes. Our former Civil Rights heroes exposed themselves for chitlin'-eatin' table-scrappers perfectly willing to attack one of their own for the good of the almighty white folk. Andrew Young came out saying that Obama wasn't black, that Bill Clinton was blacker than him, and, in fact, Bill has "slept with more black women than Barack" (yeah, so did Strom Thurmond and Thomas Jefferson, what exactly was your point, Andy?). Then John Lewis was on The News Hour claiming that Obama was actually running a racist campaign. And I don't even want to talk about all the anti-Muslim shit the Clinton campaign pulled.


I watched and listened to all this in horror with RNC (Poohbutt's initials) in my arms. I can't speak for every black parent, but I was raised to believe that you fight the good fight, the right fight, in the hopes that those who come after you won't have to fight it. That you cannot end racism, maybe racism will never end, but you've got to do what you can do to chip away at its armor. That's what the generations before you--through the Middle Passages, through slavery and Jim Crow, through all of it--have done for you, and that's what you must do for your own children. I don't know how much I've actually done, but I had a child now. And there I was--with her and bottle in hand--watching Obama going through some of the same things I went through growing up writ large: attacks from blacks and whites for being too black, not black enough, a black radical, a sell-out, being all about race, not enough about race, of constantly using the Race Card. And I kept thinking, "This shit has got to stop."

So, for RNC and her future, I did what I thought I'd never do: I registered to vote as a Democrat (Maryland has closed primaries), and, because of my baby girl, I voted for Barack Obama. For her, I voted, I blogged, and while we were out campaigning for her grandfather, I (foolishly?) hoped that those white Virginian voters would look down at my little brown girl, while talking politics, and perhaps think that Obama might not be so bad, after all. Of course, none of this was enough nor decisive nor influential, but I did what I could.


And now, here we are, Inauguration Day. Barack Obama is now the 44th President of the United States (five minutes late--in true, black fashion). I don't know what all that means. None of us will for years to come. Perhaps we'll never know. I do know that a lot of my views of my country have definitely been changed forever. I know watching all the pomp and circumstance on the television while Poohbutt plays innocently with her blocks, I keep finding myself choking up. I know for the first time watching one of these things, I really and truly feel proud to be an American.

Having seen Lester Holt and Michael Eric Dyson choke up after speaking on NBC, I know I am not alone in this. I keep smiling, I keep choking up, I keep crying and holding my daughter and kissing the hell out of her chubby, little cheeks. I can't help thinking that this is the greatest event I've ever witnessed, and I feel blessed to be sharing it with her. I'm so glad my parents are around to see this. I wish my grandparents were, my great-grandparents. I wish that every African who survived and died during the Middle Passages could see this, every black person who suffered and died these past 400 years of oppression and humiliation could sit down and take this all in.


If somehow they can, I wonder what they're thinking. I wonder if they feel the pride I do at this very moment. I wonder if their eyes are also filled with tears of joy and honor.

Poohbutt has no clue why I'm crying right now. And nothing makes me happier than knowing that she will never exactly understand why her father was crying on Tuesday, January 20, 2009. She'll never know why I'll so fervently keep preaching to her, "You can be whatever you want to be in this world." She'll never understand that, on this beautiful day, I could say those words and actually believe them--unlike all the black parents before me. And she'll never, ever, ever quite get her old man and his hearty laugh when she screws up her face and rolls her eyes, and huffs, "Yeah, yeah, Dad. First black President. Whatever."

God, how I love this day!



[Author's Note: This, ironically, is my 100th post on Tome. Thank you, everyone for supporting and sticking with me. I hope we can continue to share. Keep on keeping on!]

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My Favorite White Guys!!!

After Señor Senior emailed everyone with this Colbert video



DC's Finest declared, "This guy is running for my favorite white guy." I thought we'd stopped running that contest back in '97, but it got me to thinking, "Who are my favorite white guys?" Well, here you go. Music please.


Bill's Favorite White Guys!!!

1. Jesus



2. That jackhole who signs my checks every first and fifteenth



3. George W. Bush [see A Big Kiss on the Mouth for details]



4. Ann Coulter (though s/he does give me Adam's apple envy)



5. Ayman Zawahiri (I know he only thinks he's white, but who other than white men use Negroid terminology--even "house negro"--thinkin' they down?)



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