Waking Up

The Obama Imperative, from the oath on, has been exquisitely simple: Don’t embarrass yourself. If you do, you embarrass the whole black race. It is hard to imagine the pressure of living with that for fourteen hundred days and nights. History, knitting, always watching, waiting to judge.

They hadn’t embarrassed themselves.

You can argue politics or experience or wisdom or strength if you wish but this is unarguable: They seemed a fine, graceful family.

Touched by Clinton, they’re tap dancing off stage as Ma & Pa ‘Bama, shillin’ & pimpin’ for the most horrid candidate in our history. And they know it. But….They be like legaceen’? That how they want to be remembered?

A radio disc jockey could stay awake from now until the election. With time in hours, her supporters may have trembled for her, losing Huma Abedin, her best friend, her younger sister by another mother, her top aide, her Chief of staff in waiting. Turns out that’s not the case at all.

All she is to Clinton is: “One of my staffers”.

Did Huma know that?

Is there a bus long enough to throw all these people under it?

And how could it possibly run over Donna Brazile? Or Elizabeth Warren? But it has and it will.

Podesta, too. Who described her aura as “dried urine and farts. Maybe because she doesn’t bathe much.”

Eek.

But bravely, holding back a tear, chin trembling, she soldiers on.

Got a stripper as an opening act in Florida.

This is happening head-swimmingly fast, this waking-up.

The Job 11.3.16