AUTHOR’S NOTE:This is a somewhat bawdy tale. If you are even remotely offended by such presentations, do not read this!
Okay, okay, everyone clam down, or as Cheri Oteri used to say on SNL, “Simmer Down Now!” Let’s put an end to the wild and unfounded speculation that Obama is not a natural born American, thus ineligible for the Presidency.
First off, yes the Hawaii Certificate of Live Birth (CLB) is a forgery. Obama was not born in Hawaii. This was a ruse to take the heat off of his real parents. But don’t get excited Obama haters. Obama was born in the US, and in fact, was even born on the day the Hawaii CLB states. But he wasn’t born in Hawaii. So everyone must simmer down now and forget all this foolishness.
Instead follow along as I recite a tale of lies, a clandestine midnight meeting in seedy and smoke filled bar, wanton sexuality, sweaty heaps of flesh and the truth behind the birth of our 44th President.
On August 4th, 1961 a male child was born. He was named Barack Obama, but that name is not the name of either of his biological contributors. Those names were hidden, buried beneath a plethora of paper to throw off the trail, but I and my intrepid reporter, Bill Barfsalot, dug through the mountain of misnomers, perused the pile of papers, and have uncovered the evidence. Obama is a natural born American, but the truth will shake you to the core!
Nine months to the day before August 4, 1961, a young woman struggled with her identity, her morals and her balancing the two. “Who am I,” she would ask herself? “What is it I want from life?” she went on. Was she the rebellious 20 year old she so wanted to be, or was she the good little girl her parents thought and she’d so wished would prevail? Her actions this night would determine the path she would choose.
Sitting at the well-worn bar the girl who’s future was yet unmapped wrestled with her demons. She’d always enjoyed the attention of men, but this was early December, 1960, and “good girls” didn’t do what this young woman was about to. This young woman had finally had enough of trying to live the straight and narrow. She determined that tonight she would finally, once and for all, take the step to womanhood!
She fought back her good girl upbringing and decided that to end this moral battle within she would let wanton lust rule her until the sun rose anew on the morrow. Until then she would be the girl she dreamed of being in the silence of her dark and lust-driven mind. Tonight, for the first and last time, she would let the hormones rule her actions.
She was a hot-panted little devil. Brown eyes, a wide mouth with full and inviting lips, the shape and form of woman. The kind of woman that drove men to make lewd comments to her otherwise virgin ears, and lady parts, for that matter. The things these lust-mad men would say caused her cheeks to blush, her ears to turn red and burn. But these same words made her lady parts tingle. Tonight she would quench that tingle!
She seductively smiled at the lanky Black man at the other end of the bar. He approached, asked to join her and buy her another adult beverage, and so it went. A little smooth conversation, some innocent and seemingly inadvertent body contact, a hot and smoky bar room, and the magic spell had been cast. The man, one William Smith, was taken with the slight White girl with the big, big breasteses!!
To avoid the seedy details, they left together and spent the night engaging in all manner of fornicating, sodomy and other various sexual peccadilloes I will not mention. They parted as the sun shooed the night from this half of the Earth. They never spoke nor saw each other again.
Soon the young woman discovered she was with child. She panicked, but being the good catholic girl she hoped to be, she confided in her parents and they hid her from public view and scorn. 1961 was a tough time for a unmarried woman to be pregnant, especially as the product of her seedy union was an inter-racial child. This was blasphemy in those antiquated times.
Here father was a local big wig and he had connections. As her time grew near the father pulled some strings, sent her across state lines into northern Virginia into a local hospital, and on August 4, 1961 the young woman gave birth to a fine & healthy cocoa skinned male child.
The reluctant grandfather, a near-by, large city mayor, used more of his connections. Soon after the birth the male child was spirited away, just hours after his birth. The mother, in a complete departure from normal medical practice of the time, was released from the hospital within hours of the birth as well. She returned to her parent’s home to recover, never having held her infant in her arms.
The child was “lost” in the child welfare systems of the day. Eventually a woman and a Black Kenyan emigre were “convinced” (some say money changed hands) to claim the child as their own. They were put on the CLB as the natural parents, and for the next 30 odd years the young man was raised as their own. They named him Barack Obama.
Soon the tale took a poor turn for the young man. The father flitted about, only spending rare occasions with his “son.” The mother loved and cared for him as best she could, but she was a “free spirit,” thus she drug the young man all over Hell’s half acre. She met an early and untimely end, and at a young age the young man, this Barack Obama, “Barry” to his pals, was cast out to make his way in this hateful, unfair and racist world.
The son grew tall and sturdy. He was educated, relocated to Chicago, and the rest is, as they say, history.
But what about the natural mother? What happened to her, you might ask? Oh, she did well.
After the successful ruse her father, the mayor of Baltimore, engineered, the young woman finished college and married a man she met there. I think his name was . . . , I can’t remember his first name, but if I am not mistaken, his last name was some sort of an Italian name.
She moved to California, had a family, became active in local politics and in 1987 was elected to the US House of Representatives, so the natural mother of the unwanted son had made well.
And as with any truly compelling tale of woe, despair, redemption, and success, the story has a great ending. The young man made good on local politics. He was so savvy he joined the local church that was known for being the place any aspiring Black politician attended. He met a nice girl, married, and had a family.
And when the time was right, meaning politically opportune, he ran for national office, and he won. He had some real advantages on his side too! He’d made all the right friends, payed the right dues, said the right things, acted the right way, and eventually he was so successful he sold a bill of goods to a whole nation. That many who supported him were as hollow-headed as an empty acorn, was not to be discussed.
And now we come full circle.
Ever wondered what the President says to the Speaker of the House when he turns to them at the end of a Congressional address? Does he thank them for their support? Do they discuss the weather?
In this case, I know exactly what the President says to the Speaker of the House.
As he closed his speech he turned, winked at Speaker Nancy Pelosi, kissed her cheek and whispered so only she could hear, “Thanks for all your help, MOM. Me and Michelle will have you over after this whole mess dies down. BTW, can you watch the girls while Michelle and I go to the Islands?”
And now you know the truth – dreadfully, he is legally our President.