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July 2, 2013
Al Sharpton: The Obama Interview
AL SHARPTON: You are the Commander of the Chiefs. You are the first African American of color to preside over the Court Jesters and the House of Commoners. Yet today you find yourself embattled in a heated exchange of nebulous confections of disreputes. Would you say it’s because you are an African American of color? .... You have people dying in Cereal, the Tea Baggers want to put an end to Portable Health Care and to make matters worse, a tattle-tale is on the loose in Russia dibulging secrets from a community of intellectuals. --Daily RashPosted by gerardvanderleun at July 2, 2013 3:45 PM. This is an entry on the sideblog of American Digest: Check it out.
Your Say
In Living Color used to make fun of black leaders who'd use a lot of impressive sounding words without any apparent comprehension of what they meant. Allow me to fumigate my wisdom upon you!
Al Sharpton makes me think of those guys
Posted by: Christopher Taylor at July 3, 2013 6:59 AM
Al Sharpton was the inspiration for those bits. He has been doing that since Tawana Brawly, or what ever that lying slut was called. Her phony allegation of rape by the KKK ruined several men's lives and put Rev'nd Al on TV for months, if not years. Despicable whores, both of them.
Posted by: Roger in Republic at July 3, 2013 1:50 PM
I truly miss me some Amos 'n Andy. Sharpton could play The Kingfish without breaking a sweat.
Posted by: twolaneflash at July 3, 2013 5:35 PM
In Chicago, lo these many years ago, I had a girlfriend from Dothan, Georgia.
One night we were coming back from supper when we stopped for a red light and a black guy in a '53 Pontiac crossed in front of us, his car festooned with outside mirrors, mudflaps, exhaust extensions, aerials replete with coontails, fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview - and a pair of rocket ships, made from vacuum cleaner tanks with nose cones and fins added, mounted on the rear fenders. The driver had his stingy-brim porkpie cocked over his nose and a little white-man-hater under his lip. Perfect.
She turned to me and, in deepest appreciation, said "Don't ya just love spades?"
Amos 'n Andy indeed.
Posted by: Rob De Witt at July 3, 2013 6:46 PM
Poetry, Rob. Thanks for the flashback. I used to go down to Maxwell Street to get suits when I played in R&B bands back in the day. Mixed bands, natch - so what?
"The man who knows goes to Smokey Joe's"
79th and Stoney, Harlem Avenue all the way in from south of Westmont, ahh.
Posted by: chasmatic at July 3, 2013 9:35 PM
Rob. I think you mean Dothan, AL. I don't believe there is a Dothan, GA. Not that it matters.
Posted by: BillH at July 4, 2013 8:47 AM
Bill,
I thought so too; she swore it was Dothan, Georgia.
She DID establish that her daddy at one time owned the Princess Peanut Butter Company in that locale - the label of which featured a picture of her in a pinafore and mary janes and a ribbon in her hair, which of course led to her everlasting denomination as The Peanut Butter Princess.
That was, of course, several years before she developed the attributes that led to her assignment as background tits in a Playboy pictorial, the check from which bought us the celebration dinner from which we were returning when we encountered the aforementioned apparition....
Posted by: Rob De Witt at July 4, 2013 11:09 AM
I was three sentences in before I realized it was parody and not Sharpton's usual race-pimp jive.
Posted by: SteveS at July 5, 2013 8:19 PM