IHateTheMedia.com presents this exclusive, pre-release excerpt from the eagerly awaited, unauthorized bio of Presidential Obama.
The intercom on Barack’s desk beeped. He touched a button and said, “Yes, Katie?”
“Mr. President,” said a voice on the other end, “Reverend Wright is here to see you, sir.”
Barack smiled and said, “Thanks, Katie. Send him in, please.”
He walked over to the door as it opened for the Reverend Jeremiah Wright. He was wearing a conservative brown suit which appeared to have been tailored for someone else. It hung, it sagged, and looked almost as if the good Reverend had found it somewhere in an alley. Oh, well, thought Barack, style was never his forte.
The two men hugged briefly and Barack said, “Good to see you, Reverend. It’s been too long.”
“Wasn’t my fault,” said Wright, as he took a seat. “You the one that severed our connection.”
“It wasn’t quite like that, Jeremiah,” said Barack, trying to maintain cordiality, “we just started going to a different church.”
“Hmmf,” grunted Wright. “Just like you started denying your heritage?”
“My heritage?” said Obama, suspecting where the conversation was going. “What do you mean?”
Wright ‘hmmfed’ again, and replied, “Your Kenyan heritage, son. You were born there and now you’re denying it. It’s one more reason God is damning America –”
“I was not born in Kenya!” Barack exploded. “My father was born there! My mother was born in the U.S., and so was I! I can’t believe you’re a party to this ‘birther’ thing, Reverend.”
Wright shook his head sadly. “It’s no good to deny the truth, Barack. If you do that, you just give God another reason to bring you down. You’re turning your back on your people, my son.”
Barack just stared at him.
“You know what they callin’ you on the street, in the ‘hood, back in Chicago?” asked Wright.
“No, Reverend,” Barack sighed, “what are they calling me back there?”
“Dey callin’ you a long-legged mack daddy,” Wright said in intentionally offensive black dialect. “Dass what dey callin’ you, son.”
Barack chuckled. “Oh, so I’m a pimp now, am I? Along with everything else?”
Wright nodded. “A pimp fo’ da white man, yes. But there’s a way you could change all that, you know.”
Almost fearing to ask, Barack said, “And what would that be?”
“Why don’t you start calling this place the Black House?” asked Wright.
Barack just stared at him. “Are you insane?” he finally said. “The Black House?”
“Yes,” said Wright. “It’s only right and proper. Even though you deny your Kenyan World View, you can’t deny your race. It’s God’s law.”
Barack stood. He had had enough. This whole meeting was a bad idea, just as he had feared. “I think it’s time you left, Reverend. I have work to do.”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” said Wright firmly.
A sly smile worked its way onto Barack’s face. He turned to Wright and said, “I could have Bill O’Reilly come in real quick and mediate things … ”
Wright blanched. “Bill O’Reilly?”
Barack nodded. “He’s staying in the Lincoln Bedroom, waiting to interview me for the Super Bowl halftime show on Fox. I’m sure he could work in a ‘discussion’ with you.” Barack paused, then said innocently, “Shall I call him?”
Wright knew very well that he would be sliced, diced, and kippered by O’Reilly. He stood up. “I think it’s time I left,” he muttered, and moved toward the door.
Barack opened it, Wright walked out, and said over his shoulder, “I’ll talk to God about you, my son.”
“Yeah,” Barack responded, “have fun chatting with the Big Guy.”
Wright glared at him over his shoulder and continued down the hall.
Barack raised his hand and made an ancient and mystical sign, with but a single finger, behind the Reverend’s back.
Retreating back into the Oval Office, Barack felt quite pleased. Hmmm, got rid of the good Reverend, and O’Reilly isn’t even really here. He smiled. Thanks to a little white lie, it was a win-win.
IHateTheMedia.com brings you another exclusive excerpt from the unreleased new Obama bio every day this week. Tomorrow’s excerpt will be Chapter XVI: “Let Them Eat Salad.” Yesterday’s excerpt was, “The unauthorized Obama bio, Chapter IX: “Birthers Gonna Be the Death of Me.”
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