Brother President, I Feel Ya

How low can you go? The latest polls show your approval rating among my people hovering around two percent. Two percent? David Duke would poll higher. You’d have to be the reincarnation of Jefferson Davis running on a platform of reinstating slavery to poll that low. Your chickens, Mr. President, have really come home to roost.

How can you be so surprised? Though you first ran as a “compassionate conservative” and famously installed Colin Powell and Condolezza Rice into the highest political positions black folks have ever known, your party’s Southern strategy of thinly veiled appeals to “States’ Rights,” your daddy’s favorite werewolf Willie Horton, your hatchetmen (allegedly) behind the insinuation that John McCain had an illegitimate black child, all belied your party’s true disposition toward my peeps. Then of course came your first election stolen partly on the backs of black folks in Florida who were either intimidated at the polls or “mistakenly” disenfranchised by Katherine Harris and your brother. Your playing air guitar through Hurricane Katrina and your mama telling us that having our houses washed into Lake Ponchartrain is actually a good thing was just the icing on the (let them eat) cake.