"Whenever I go into a restaurant, I order both a chicken and an egg to see which comes first"

Wednesday, August 7, 2024

Kamala Picks An Old White Guy - The Grand Dame And Her Lackey Hit The Campaign Trail

When asked who she would pick as her Vice-Presidential candidate, Kamala Harris hesitated, and replied, 'Do I really need one?', and the man she picked seemed to fit the bill.  The governor of an important midwestern state, but most importantly an older white man, would give the ticket 'identity balance'. Those who had hoped for, even expected an all-women-of-color ticket were of course disappointed. 

 

As liberal as his credentials might be, nothing was more ironic than his whiteness.  After all, Harris, Biden, and their Congressional shills had been uncompromising in their indictment of white men - the progenitors of white supremacy, racial elitism, and the perennial oppression of black people.  White men were not only at the heart of the problem, they were the problem, a buggering foolish lot of clowns who belonged on the curb, not on the ticket. Yet, there he was as white as an alabaster statue.

All her top vice-presidential choices were white men, and that ought to tell you something. Born in Nebraska, married to the same woman for thirty years, father of two children, nothing seamy or off-color about the man, no skeletons in the closet.  In fact the man is the whitest white man ever, the caricature of white, the epitome of white.  

There is absolutely nothing non-white about him. He is from a modest farm family, went to modest schools and worked in modest professions, was a pillar of the community, liked by his neighbors - a nice guy, someone you could have a beer with.  He is open about his faith and the importance of religion in his life without being fundamentalist.  

Now, to be even considered for Kamala's running mate Walz at least had to talk like a black man - of course not really - but in essence, metaphorically, and most importantly with feeling.  So when he realized that he was being considered for the Number Two spot, he tried to black it up a bit, talk to the few homeys in his state clustered in Near North Minneapolis about welfare, child care, food stamps, and inclusivity.  

The trip to the ghetto didn't work out so well. This was just a fat old white man looking for votes for his black sister, residents said, and as he picked his way from his limo through the trash, empty malt liquor cans, and half-eaten beef jerky to the podium, he knew he should have stayed home.  

In preparation he had watched Bulworth, the Warren Beatty movie about a white politician who goes ghetto.  It can be done, he told himself, I can be at least a little black, but when he got to the inner city and found himself in the midst of lowriders, gold grilles, silver spinners, and fine threads, his mouth went dry.  Not for him. 

'I'll do the black thing', Kamala told him when he admitted his limitations, 'so don't you worry.  I picked you because you're white'; and so Walz was relieved that he didn't have to walk the walk.  His nicely articulated progressive positions, his bio, and his faith would be more than enough. 

Actually what Kamala had always wanted was a white lackey to fold her clothes, make her tea, and do exactly what she said.  She of course had a smattering of white interns, aides, and advisers on her staff but no real white Steppin' Fetchit.  This was her big opportunity, her chance to finally show the country what the future would look like after eight years of her rule. White men would follow black women, carry their bags, say yessum and no ma’am, and be seen and not heard. 

The Right had always known that Kamala was a racial poseur - sometimes black, sometimes Asian, and always white-seeming - so this vice-presidential pick was no surprise.  Race was the only thing the woman could possibly run on, and she was a progressive trifecta of race, gender, and ethnicity.  She trotted out her Indian mother when she saw fit, her very white black Stanford professor, economic adviser to the President of Jamaica father when it suited her, and woman this, woman that every day of her political life. 

 

Governor Walz was delighted that he had been chosen and now 'could serve my country'.  He no longer had to tout his military career - 25 years in the National Guard doing two weeks a year active duty and on call at Starbucks and Home Depot the rest of the time - and could claim real patriotism. 

'Watch your language, Governor', Kamala told him when he had mentioned patriotism one time too many.  'This country is nothing to be proud of', she said, 'a morass of poverty, racism, homophobia, and capitalist greed'.  They - she and Walz - were there to make the country worthy of patriotic sentiment, but not now, so keep a lid on that, please. 

Now that the candidates for both sides are official, the campaign can begin in earnest; and what a show it will be!  The marvelously bombastic, unedited, tummler - a one-man circus act and comedy show - and the overpriced one-song Grand Dame of racial politics will have a go at each other.  

Everyone on the Left is happy that Old Joe was cashiered - a campaign with him running was a forgone conclusive victory for Donald Trump, but now it's a toss up.  The Trump campaign is certain to call out Kamala for the do-nothing, think-nothing candidate she is, a policy failure, a racial demagogue, and a political cipher. 

The Convict And The Hillbilly vs The Grand Dame And The White Boy - Wow! Whew! Gangbusters, The Greatest Show on Earth.  Who said that American politics was not a serious affair?

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