Without Me There Is No You

By my tally Kamala Harris owes me $94,714,318.21 in reparations. Me personally. I can’t do the math on what she owes the rest of black America. 

Mrs. Harris is reputed by many as the first ever woman Vice President in U.S history. She is set to take office later this month. Judging by the fragile health and criminal history of her running mate – Beijing Joe Biden – it is quite possible she’ll be sworn in as President of the part of the United States that believes her ticket won a legitimate election. 

Just a few short years ago Mrs. Harris was the first Indian woman to win a senate seat. She has now emerged from a political chrysalis to become the first African American female VP. 

In the last year in her quest to convince upper middle class white Lefties she is black she has done the following: 

  • Gone on a Hip Hop/political morning radio show to establish her black identity by assuring the hosts she listened to rap in college while she got high her in her dorm. The fact the rappers she claimed to be listening to during her smoke sessions weren’t active rappers at the time not only underlies her phoniness but also provides a clue into what Ms. Harris think black people think is “real” black behavior.
  • Took a pro-busing stance in a Democratic debate thinking black people were in favor of busing. Blacks opposed busing by huge numbers – something almost any black person over the age of forty could have told her. Makes you wonder who on her staff had her ear. Well, makes you wonder, yes, but not me. I know who had her ear.
  • She danced. All the time. I’m not going to load up this post with links. Type Kamala Harris dancing in your search engine. I’ll catch you back here in 20 minutes after you’ve finished watching all the videos. Of course black people dance. It’s a big part of our culture. But, again, as her running mate would point out with great passion – she ain’t black. And black people don’t dance in public when they are seeking a job that does not require dancing. In fact, black people who dance to amuse whites when dancing has nothing to do with the situation at hand are held in contempt by other blacks. Think of it this way: Jesse Jackson never danced on the campaign trail but Barack Obama had to go to the Apollo in Harlem and sing an Al Green song. See it now? Yeah, there are words I could use for that but I try to keep the blog above that level.
  • Kamala strutted off a private jet wearing Timberland boots (“Tims” in the vernacular) and hopped into a limo. Certain people on Twitter were overcome with ecstasy by that image. Kamala is part of the jet-setting elite but still has roots in the street. Isn’t she dreamy? Meanwhile, the black people she was supposed to be impressing saw right through the stunt like Superman looking through a locked door. I can’t prove it but I believe that video contributed mightily to Trump’s gain in black voters. Anyway, real Tims wearers rock the ones with double soles not the version gated community, HOA presidents buy for their Hip Hop infatuated teenager.
  • In one of the many silly interviews she did during the presidential campaign, she rated Tupac Shakur as the greatest rapper alive. Mr. Shakur has been dead since 1996. Yes, there are people who will say they saw Pac at Church’s Chicken last week but he’s dead and every non-delusional rap fan knows it. Kamala is not a rap fan.
  • A recent Kwanzaa announcement in which Kamala pretended to remember celebrating Kwanzaa with her family when she was a small girl. Those are some helluva fake memories since Kamala was raised by her Hindu mother in Montreal. Maybe all the weed she allegedly smoked hasn’t cleared her system.
  • Possibly her most egregious act was when she compared herself to the little girl who desegregated the Little Rock, Arkansas public school system – Ruby Bridges . The stream of people who brought Ruby Bridges to life and put her in the position to remedy centuries of oppression are separated by multiple galaxies from the stream of people of who brought Kamala into American public life. Forget the shoes, the dancing, the rappers, and the weed this is the point at which Kamala Harris should have opened her mouth to say, “Please don’t do this. I don’t share the history of American blacks.”

She didn’t. She happily inserted herself into my story for her personal benefit and that’s why I need the cash. Not need – am owed

Once again, as in the Obama days, I have to endure someone who is not even black commandeering our lives and using our suffering to cement positions of power for themselves while tagging us with every stereotype in the bigot catalogue . 

That’s cool. I can’t stop you. Just pay up, Baby. American greenbacks only. None of that funny Canadian coin you brought with you from Montreal. 

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