Dry-Eyed and Bushy-Tailed

I wept. I admit it. Leatherneck-toughs like Colin Powell and Condi Rice did too. But it was hardly some grand personal catharsis. Give me a break.

The thought of this hapless pair, needle sharp instruments pressed into service as dull right-wing ear wax pickers, reminds me to give ol' W a few props. Sure ol' W carelessly played chicken with the $10 trillion public debt death train, ensuring an easy win for any quivering mass of protoplasm that the DNC could pile up behind the podium (to our great fortune, the DNC delivered an Obama, rather than a steaming pile). Both the MSM and Repub-pologists proffer this trite and vastly inane analysis of Obama's overwhelming victory.  But, admirably and incomprehensibly, ol' W first gave light to smart wonks in blackface. And, it is this light that shines on Obamadom.

In spite of all the good words of Democratic administrations, it took the second Bush to transcend bare tokenism in the non-HUD political appointment of black folks (mercifully limiting abject ineptitude to his white appointees for the most part).  Geez, from the Clinton administration riding a big, black wave, you get a lilly white cabinet -- save the resume-lite token Ron Brown. And from 41 you get the monumentally under-qualified proto-jurist Clarence "Coke Can" Thomas. I could recruit more articulate and knowledgeable brothers at my barber shop.

Ol' W gives you Condi Rice and Colin Powell,  duly qualified and exuding competence, and hands them real honest-to-goodness meaty cabinet jobs. (Ironically, this competence made them perfect shills for delivering on Bushie's moronic policy excursions). (As an aside, I was lucky enough to have Condi teach me an obscure graduate course in the sunny Western US.  Even in those days, when you couldn't imagine a future outside of teaching or authoring for even the most capable black academician,  I had little doubt that this clear-thinking, Russian-fluent, concert pianist was headed somewhere huge. She is truly one of the most remarkable people I've ever encountered. Colin, like me, is a second-generation Jamaican, so...). The upshot is that Collier's 94-year grandmother, G-d bless her soul, turns on her TV in East Texas, sees black folks competently working in the international sphere and pulls the lever for Obama. A sea change begins.

That the "other white folks" demurrer was never flung along with the other McCain dirt missiles gives this some credence. The "other white folks" demurrer goes like this "we're OK with this, but we're just worried about the other white folks who aren't enlightened as we are." Although OWF has largely lost it's domestic legs (except when some NYC power-Betty steals my cab, blaming the racism of the unwashed immigrant behind the wheel), it still works in the international sphere. But for Condi and Colin, we undoubtedly would have heard the poison strains of how the monkey chanting, Nazi saluting football (ugh, soccer) thugs that populate our EU allies are not quite ready for our enlightened political selection. Instead, we get 200,000 Germans screaming for Obama without a single monkey chant. Samuel Eto'o should be so lucky. 

Thanks, Colin. Thanks, Condi. Thank you, Shrub.