Obama is not a black man or a unicorn

BRACE YOURSELF for blasphemy! Barry Obama is not a black man. Nor is he a unicorn, a fairy or Bigfoot.

But everybody knows that Obama is a black man, that he was America’s first black president. Just one problem: He is not. It’s a myth like fairies, unicorns, Bigfoot and trolls who lurk beneath stone bridges.

momBarry’s been out of office now for almost a year, and people are still referring to him as a black man. That’s his mama in the mug shot. Does she look like a soul sistah to you?

Faux black woman Rachel Dolezal and faux Navajo Liz Warren would probably say yes, but they are not trustworthy. They are trolls. The left loves to fool you. Dolezal is not black. Warren is not an Indian. Obama was not America’s first black president. And most of the news media are not honest.

Barry’s mom was a white gal, 100% honkie, who wielded her “white privilege” back in the day. So if that’s Barry’s mama, how can he be black? Answer: He isn’t. He is biracial or, to use an out-of-style word, mulatto.*

unicornEver since Obama won his first presidential election, and everyone was crowing about his being the first black president, I have been pointing out the error at every opportunity. Barry is not black. He’s biracial, absolutely, demonstrably no more black than white.

He is not a unicorn either.

One wonders: What’s wrong with calling a spade a spade? (Sorry, but that was too big a target to pass up.) What’s wrong with being America’s first biracial president? Doesn’t that also demonstrate the nation’s progress?

fairyThe myth that Obama is black is so incredibly pervasive that even intelligent conservatives say he’s black. Everyone says he’s black.

But he’s not. And there’s nothing shameful about being biracial. It’s amazing how rampant myths can become. Even Barry says he’s black.

Hasn’t he taken a good look at his mama?

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* English Prince Harry’s fiancée, Megan Markle, is mulatta, demonstrating that mulattas can be major babes.

(Note 1: What prompted this now that Barry’s out of office? A post by a blogger I keep up with. She repeated the myth this week even though I corrected her about a year ago. Myths die hard, especially when you really, really want to believe in fairies, unicorns and that Barry is black.)

(Note 2: Back in 2012, Americans had a shot at nominating an actual black guy for president. I would have voted for him in a flash. Of course, leftists say he’s not really black due to his being conservative. Fairies! Unicorns!)

King’s clothing

THIS TIME OF year hereabouts everyone goes nuts for flor de calabaza,  pumpkin flower, or maybe it’s squash in English. Don’t know, don’t care. Irrelevant.

The interesting thing is that the locals go nuts about it. They eat it in every possible form. They crow about it on restaurant menus. The fact that it’s seasonable just boosts the allure.

As you can see, it’s a very pretty flower. That’s my child bride holding a bouquet she bought in the neighborhood plaza this morning while we were doing our exercise walk. She paid 10 pesos, which is about fifty cents U.S.

When flor de calabaza is included in a recipe for whatever and cooked, it loses its beauty entirely, but that does not reduce its popularity one bit.

Today I’m going to reveal something that may get me run out of Mexico. I may have my citizenship revoked. I may receive death threats. Only the Goddess knows, but here goes:

Flor de calabaza has no taste whatsoever. None.

The king is parading in the streets buck naked, and everyone is oooing and ahhing at his raiment. And not only that, as I mention above, when it’s cooked it loses its loveliness.

So what is going on here?

Flor de calabaza is a beautiful flower. And it’s edible. This means its beauty must also make it tasty.

‘Fraid not. So flor de calabaza is merely an idea, a notion, a myth of sorts. I often say Mexican life is like Alice’s Wonderland, and this is a lovely — but tasteless — example.

Don’t tell anyone I wrote this. Por favor.

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(Note: My child bride admitted a couple of years ago — the first actual Mexican to do so — that flor de calabaza is tasteless. So why did she buy it? To include it in her pastries for the weekly sidewalk sale. Myth sells, amigos.)

Oikophobia*

THIS VIDEO from my boy Bill Whittle hails from 2011, a blast from the past, but it’s just as applicable today as it was four years back.

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* Yes, it really is a word. See here.