There are a number of videos floating around YouTube purporting that Obama’s recently released long form birth certificate is a clumsily produced fake. The one above seems reasonable due to its brevity and lack of breathless prose from the author that this is proof positive of a Manchurian President secretly doing the bidding of George Soros, or the Tri-Lateral Commissions, or the McDonald’s Corporation or something. In the best tradition of the interwebs he just throws it out there along with a bit of his particular expertise and lets the viewer decide what they are seeing. Of course most of the viewers know nothing of graphic design so it might just as easily be complete bull shit. People will believe what they want to believe.
I’m going to go out on a limb here and state the following. Anyone with the ambition necessary to achieve the Presidency of the most powerful nation in history most likely has a team of people around him with a very refined sense of strategic thinking, and resources at their disposal that us peons can only faintly imagine. If this administration put forward a document so easily proved a forgery, it has a reason for doing so. I have a hard time believing that if it indeed is a forgery, they would have delegated its manufacture to someone unable to hide their tracks in Illustrator. Barack Obama is a lot of things but he is no Dan Rather.
Two choices folks. We continue egging “The Donald” on as he shoots spit-wads at the President from the back row while the democrats and media portray conservatives as pathetic Captain Queeg like characters obsessed with minutia, or we focus on more serious things as 2012 approaches like finding a candidate who can actually give Obama a run for his money.
H/T to Gerard’s Rightnetwork for the video.
I remember my dad’s family photo album. It was nearly six inches think with glossy sepia images of part Irish part Choctaw dust bowl Okie’s going about their lives on flat black pages. The men wore pistols tucked into their belts and cast a mistrustful eye to the lens. The women were smiling and open, although the lack of anything remotely luxurious in the backgrounds of the photos told you that these were dirt poor people. As a boy, dad and I would sit and flip the pages. He’d tell me their names and and how we were related, who had died of fever or the whooping cough or who had been to prison. He told me proudly but not too boastfully that there was barely a high school graduate among them, much less a college one till he came along. He had taken the path of service to his country and the GI bill to change the course of his family history. When his eldest son, that would be me, elected not to pursue higher learning after twelve years of public education he stoically wished me well and sent me out to face the world.
Like his father who quit school and went to work after completing the eighth grade, I am a big, fun loving, easy going guy and inherited his devil may care attitude regarding the future. When weighing the difference between having a good time and doing what was expected of me, more often than not the former has prevailed. There have been times in my life when I haven’t had much and my prospects for getting it were slim, but truth be told I’ve done fine. I have been very lucky. And my luck in no uncertain terms was to have been born into this era of security and easy living and not that of my grandfathers, in which betting on luck to get you through life was a fools wager. Though dad hid it well, I don’t think he ever forgave me for not building on the foundation that he had laid, and turning my back on the sacrifices made in his traveling ahead in time to smooth the road he intended me to follow. I instead traveled my own road and relied on chance, and…luckily… she has been kind to me.
To my father, the only luck that had ever cast its envious gaze on the branches of our family tree had been of the bad sort, and might be thought of as a covetous man appearing at random with a sharp axe. He didn’t mean any harm, he just needed something to burn and this looked like as good a place to get it as any. My father alone of all in his family had succeeded through toughness and drive in convincing the axeman to look elsewhere for his firewood, and could now stand back and watch our tree thrive. If our pampered lives of the previous half century come to an end, I hope that my two boys will inherit the toughness and drive of their grandfather, my father, rather than the easy temperament of myself and of my grandfathers. If times get hard, luck will likely not be enough to pull them through and they in their own time may have to convince the axeman to move on.
If I see one more fawning “interest piece” on the upcoming nuptials of those useless royal fops Harry and what’s her name, I’m going to throw one of my dogs at the teevee screen. I was breathlessly informed this morning that His Royal Highness is personally preparing a 6:00 AM breakfast for a select group of attendees prior to the ceremony. Cooking, all by himself…and for others. It is an age of miracle and wonder. I wonder what they’ll be having? Some combination of kippers and toast with squab and the pateed livers of former colonial subjects I imagine.
We here in America have an ample supply of parochially inbred idiots as a brief review of shows such as “Swamp People” will testify to. They at least make their own way and have historically swum in the shallow end of the gene pool out of necessity due to their residing in small isolated towns, unlike the European royal families who deliberately breed morons in the interests of maintaining “proper” blood lines. To idolize these ticks on the rump of the British body politic simply because they possess a bit of stolen money and whatever glamor we peasants ascribe to them is beyond me.
Is it proper to have a hangover on Easter Sunday? I’d better round up the baskets and divvy them up.
Happy Easter everybody. May you find joy and peace in your lives on this day of renewal.
Best bitch slap I’ve seen today, from the comment section at Little Miss Atilla.
ponce April 18, 2011 at 10:51 pm
Wingnuts always try to join Social Security and Medicare together because their Wall Street masters want to get their hands on Social Security so badly.
It’s like saying me and Bill Gates together are worth billions of dollars.
- Darrell April 18, 2011 at 11:13 pm
You and Gates together have a combined IQ of 200.
I’ve been all doom and gloom lately so let’s look on the bright side of things this morning. Given the state of the job market for young people, I’m thinking that this vital part of Obama’s base won’t be quite as enthusiastic in supporting “The Lightworker” this time around.