Obama, We Can’t Choose Our Family

There are two facts in African-American families. One, we keep a closet-full of secrets that only come out when someone gets drunk at Christmas dinner or a barbecue. And when the secrets come out, people’s insulin packets, oxygen tanks, and 1970s wigs are flying all over the place.

Usually, the perpetrator who reveals this sensitive information is a relative that never quite made it. A familial flunky that you prolly dodge in public, and try hard not to converse with at family gatherings. That is, if they can scrimp up the bus fare to make it to grandma’s house.

It’s that relative that makes you say under your breath, “Why the fuck they show up?” Because they haven’t done anything, but put their hand out to ask for a favor or a dollar.

Like Uncle Omar, the long lost kinfolk of our beloved POTUS who seemed to have gotten a little too tizzy this week, resulting in his arrest for drunk driving.

Taking a page out of Rick James’ post-binge performances, Uncle Omar told the cops, “Do you know who I am? I’m Obama bitch! Now put me on the phone with nephew. Church beyotches.”

What? Recession is hard on a black man. Thank the Lord he wasn’t caught with a crack pipe. You would’ve really heard a whole bunch of ish coming from all these salty, impotent haters.

Are you saying a brother can’t deal with recession like the good ole’ fighting Irish do in Boston and throughout Massachusetts? Do you need green drawers, easy-to-burn skin and red hair to get shit-faced on a weekday?

I got a proposition for Uncle Omar: Come down to Newark and have a Guiness Stout with Booker. On me.

And since, I am an equal opportunity historian, I have to mention that George W. Bush and his twin daughters would get fucked up on the regular, while taxpayers would dish out tens of thousands of dollars for the Secret Service to drag the second and third generation drunkards back home. Hence this little news tidbit.

President Bush’s 19-year-old twin daughters were charged Thursday with underage alcohol offenses after an incident in a popular restaurant known for its Tex-Mex food and ice-cold margaritas.

It was the second alcohol-related citation against Jenna Bush in less than five weeks. Police accused Jenna Bush of attempting to buy alcohol with false identification and Barbara Bush of being a minor in possession of alcohol. (USA Today article)

At these arrests, I could just hear the echoes. “Do you fucking know who my daddy is? I’m going to tell my father and he is going to have your ass, mister,” said George to the police officer. “Ohhh, you are gonna get it. But uhh, do you have any of that white horse for my stuttering problem? And Kanye West on your itunes.”

Now don’t forget the are other secrets that were kept, like Dick Cheney’s lesbian daughter, Mary Cheney who had a son with her partner, Heather Poe, a woman she had been with for 15 years. After gasps started bubbling in the Bush/Cheney constituency, Mary told the press to eat a d!ck. It was her prerogative and not a political agenda to have a baby. Not even a TMZ feature on it. Interesting Mayr, I wonder if you said that to daddy as he backed cutting reproductive health funding?

So I ain’t hatin’ on Uncle Omar. Cash in your chips, bruh. Or drink the finest millet beer and tip off with the baddest, tootheless white chick in South Boston. Your nephew is the president. You’s a boss.

Though I doubt Barry really cares much about a guy I know he told to lay low and shut the fuck up due to his immigration status was funny; nevertheless, the POTUS will do something if not now, then later.

And I know Barack is shaking his head, once again, about his daddy’s side. And it had to the black side of all sides. But brother, we all got that one side of the family that makes us say, “Uhm, uhm, uhm” every time we get a call from them, or mama telling us about the latest drama.

For real, Barack needs to take some pointers on what some African-American families would do about this situation.

They would bail him out, have a family intervention consisting of fucking him up, then fucking him up again. After that they would make him go testify at a Pentecostal church and get prayed over so the demons can go pouring out. Then get him baptized again. Afterwards, they’d fuck him up some more. Then feed him some chicken, macaroni & cheese, and peach cobbler. And if he still don’t act right, send his ass down South to get regulated by Bubba and them.