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by Volden
Rated: 18+ · Other · Political · #1775981
There's a black man in a white house, and a legend to be told. But how'd that happen?
They said it wouldn't happen. Couldn't happen.
But it did.
And now we got a black president, ain't that all kinds of grand, people?
But if we keep making such a fuzz out of the color of the mans skin, doesn't that mean we haven't really progressed as far as we like to think anyway? I think so.
I truly do.
Barack Obama didn't get elected on his politics. Not on his party or his reforms or his plans. He was elected simply on the count of RWB. Running While Black.

We were coming of an eight year trip under the reigns of a racist dumb-ass.
A time filled with just anger and scornful wrath. And everybody was so fucking justified.
Go to war, bomb some civilians. Clean up that shit.
Oh yeah!

And then everybody sorta started waking up, sitting there polishing our leather boots, greeting our imbecile fuhrer. And somewhere between shooting civilians, sending our children to die and beating up the yellow-bellies who spoke out against the war, the anger kinda just died.
Its like when somebody runs up to you and punches you in the face.
In those first ten-twenty seconds you can pretty much justify doing anything to the bastard.
You just want to jump his ass and beat him to a pulp.
Nine-eleven was that to a nation.
You could do like the girls do, shoot the pain inwards and write songs and hold hands. Or you could step up and be a man, join the military and start shooting back.
Only it wasn't that simple. And a few thousand dead kids later we started to get that message.

Suddenly we realized that the old adage that Hitler was elected had lost its sting. Seeing as Bush was elected twice.
We were all jacking off in our bathrooms to fantasies of just vengeance. Dead towel-heads on the news, American flags waving in the breeze. We
were alive and strong and potent.

I'd be lying if I said militant patriotism didn't get me a little hard.
And for eight years the united states ran around with a bloody nose, kicking any ass it could find while tugging on its proud white boner any chance it got. Then the dick went limp, and we started counting the bodies.
Started realizing that we were not as justified as we thought.

I mean, if a junkie on a rampage rams his truck into my living room, it doesn't justify me getting my 357 and blowing a hole through anyone that fucker ever knew.
That works in a Charlton Heston movie or in a Marvel comic. But in real life? No. Not so much as it turns out.

And with the realization that we might have fucked up, and with our once proud boner pointing at the floor, the guilt started setting in.
President Bush was loud, opinionated and stupid. He was the worst white people had to offer, trying to fight the worst a radically different religion had to offer. That's not something that's ever going to end well.
Then came the new wave.

A chocolate-colored pretty boy on the television promising to get us out of the shit in which we were currently swimming. In a nation of borderline Nazis, a black man offered redemption and the promise of change.
With the shame of a child caught clubbing the neighbors cat to death we let this mocha-master of persuasion take us by the ear and tell us he was disappointed.

Barack Obama was the Bill Cosby to a politically torn country.
He was the black Jesus, promising absolution. And we knew that we had to vote for him.
A vote for Obama would purge the guilt you'd feel about imagining that Arab guy at work being showed slowly through a meat grinder. It would justify wanking of to the stars and stripes, and wiping your sticky dick on the constitution. It would justify everything.
This beautiful black man would be our beautiful black president. And everything would be right as chocolate rain.

Only now the question is, who is this black man in the white house?
What does he want with the power we've given him?
Who the hell knows, but he's black and its good.
And anyone who says different is a fucking racist.
Right?
Well again, maybe its not so simple.
Obama promised change, and he's certainly doing his best to deliver on that. He just never mentioned if things would be better after they changed. Chances are they'll just be different.

We might have known something was wrong when even the Nobel price committee threw the peace price after him before he'd even done anything.
That's like giving the world championship boxing trophy to the fighter who best talked the talk on the press conference before the fight.
Everyone, and their grandmothers, got into the Obama-praise. We were building a legend, a hero. Making him an icon for the ages. Not because he was, not because we believed so profoundly that he'd do great things that it was okay to celebrate prematurely. The reason why we so eagerly built the myth around this man had nothing to do with the man at all.

We needed a hero. A symbol of change. To purge our guilt and remind us of the American dream that we had so crudely waken up from. The dream that had turned into a nightmare in the desert heat, were young blood spilled like oil on unforgiving sand.
Barack Obama was just the smooth talking politician to build that legend around. He was young, talking about ideals and making things better. And he was black. Throw a planet on his shoulders, his face on a t-shirt and a cape on his back and voila!
Instant legend.

Barack Obama himself has been swept up in a storm that has virtually nothing to do with him as a human being, and I'm hard pressed to believed that a man as bright as him fails to realize this.
But the next election is just around the corner, and Obama has spent allot of money.
Maybe too much money.
There is always the chance that reality shatters the legend.
Until the concrete hardens, and his glory is set in stone, it is all to easy for the statue to shatter.
And inside the glorious champion of the new age of peace and prosperity sits a frightened African-American idealist, not quite sure how he ended up as everybody's scapegoat.

I hope Barack Obama doesn't fail. I hope he doesn't turn out to be just another douche and that his legend doesn't crumble around him like the twin towers on a shocked a nation.
Because if it that's what happens next, if this man fails, then it will shatter this nation.
The faith of millions now rest on the fate of one.
Statistically speaking, that one usually turns out to be the biggest douche of all.
But I could be wrong, statistics could lie.
Maybe Barack Obama is the one to change it.
We all believed in Barrack Obama. Now all I can do is hope the man won┬Ęt kill the legend.
© Copyright 2011 Volden (volden at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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