A Brief Bit Of Oxygen

If you're reading this, you're either lost, morbidly curious, or as marginal as I'm gonna be over the next few weeks. Whatever the reason for your visit, help yourself to leftover chips and onion dip. I think there are a few beers floating in the cooler near the door.

Before he left for school this morning, I told my 12-year-old son that this is his world now, not his old man's. When I was his age, something like this was science fiction or pretentious drama. I believed that someday it would happen, but I wouldn't live to see it. Our accelerated age ensured that I did.

I've felt for awhile that Obama had it locked up; but when it actually happened, I was blown away. The symbolism of a president of color was too strong and overwhelming to fight. I recalled all the racism I've seen in my life, then looked at the faces in Grant Park. I trust you will not think less of me when I confess to weeping. I teared up and trembled. Despite what I know in my head, despite what my instincts tell me, my heart couldn't resist the moment.

"Acknowledge it, you stubborn prick," I told myself. "Recognize it, then get on with the next phase of work."

Yes, I talk to myself in complete sentences.

What truly stuns me is that Obama won Indiana. He fucking took the Hoosier state. I'm a native son, and let me assure you that Indiana has countless outright racists -- open, proud, uncompromising. It was one of the reasons why I moved to New York and never moved back.

God knows what those losers are thinking today. Their shabby shitty worlds got rolled last night. I'm certain they don't know who to trust anymore. Did one of their neighbors, or worse, relatives, vote for that Marxist Muslim Supremacist? Somebody near them sure as fuck did. But who?

Oh man, picturing those assholes chasing their tails makes me smile. Part of me would like to say to them, "This is for King! This is for Malcolm! This is for Fred Hampton! How's it taste, motherfuckers?" Of course, Obama's not on the same moral plane as those murdered men, but most crackers don't know that. It's what ninjas call "naked kill" -- using the tools at hand. To them, President Obama is the biggest, scariest Black man they've ever seen. Take what you can get.

Does this mean that yours truly's going soft on Obama? As if. My opposition to his rule has already begun, for what it's worth. Let's not forget whose interests he truly serves. That Wall Street chose him over McCain. Worst of all, that Joe Biden is a heartbeat away. I know -- better Biden than Sarah Palin. Scumbag trumps psycho, one of liberty's many blessings. Again, you gotta work with what's lying around.

I have many thoughts about the coming managerial shift, but let's linger in the aesthetic, the conceptual, the What Ifs. Maybe soon, all those liberals and bookstores will feel safe enough to allow me to push "Savage Mules," a book that is more timely than ever. Remember all that talk about holding feet to flame? Let's see how serious you are about that pledge.