Clothed in Foolishness

I am sure many, if not most of you, are privy to the embarrassing phenomenon of idol worship that has arisen around our (gag) new President, Barack Hussein Obama. During the time leading up to the election, and even now for some time after, I would see Black women wearing large earrings featuring Obama's face. Then of course there are the t-shirst, the stickers, the coffee mugs. Yesterday Cracked.com compiled a fine list of the 18 most absurd Obama related pieces of merchandise. I encourage you to take a peek, if your hearts and minds can stand to suffer the agonizing truth of what our nation ultimately consists of: materialistic, hopelessly lost, morons.

One a more human level, I bring you this tale:
My Mother is and has been for 24 odd years a nurse in the labor and delivery ward of a prominent hospital in Savannah, Georgia. From time to time she will regale my family with stories of the daily insanity perpetrated by the Black youths who come in around fourteen or fifteen years of age to have their second child. More often than not, those stories revolve around naming absurdities (Oxygenia, Nitrogenia, Plaxico) yet the other day she brought word of a more troubling development involving an employee of the hospital.
The incident in question involved the young black secretary of my Mother's boss. She, like all good children of Ham, was (is) head over heels in love with Obama and wanted nothing more than to reach out and extended her love personally, so as to be rewarded by the kindness that Barack and his family would certainly extend to her....you know, because they happened to all be Black.
Thus, the young girl in question took several hundred dollars of her earned income and purchased material and cloth. She then spent several hours of her not-earned time to transform that material into two dresses. These dresses, you see, were meant for the daughters of Michelle and Barack, Malia and Sasha, whom our heroine no doubt felt were like her own daughters/sisters/cousins. Not only were the dresses sown specifically as gifts for the two First Daughters, but they were even more specifically sown for the girls to where on inauguration day.
The naive Black secretary believed with her whole heart that if she made these dresses and mailed them to DC, not only would the girls where them at the ceremony but Barack himself would be so grateful that he would personally invite her to stand on stage with him and his family. To this end, the secretary packaged the finished dresses and paid three hundred dollars to overnight them to the Capital.

Needless to say, the girls did not wear the dresses to the inauguration. The secretary was not personally flown up to the ceremony by Obama himself. Further, the last my Mother had heard the package was sitting in the DC distribution center after having been refused by UPS to be delivered. Do you suppose, dear readers, that this event at all dampened the adoration of our misguided protagonist? I invite you to ponder.