Posted at 2:23 PM on Tuesday, January 20, 2009 by David Horowitz
First Obama had a Muslim jihadist say a prayer at his inauguration.
Then he had a senile Christian racist, Joseph Lowery, give another ("we ask you to help us work for the day when black will not be asked to get in the back, when brown can stick around....when white will embrace what's right...").
I've got news for this sick man who once took an award from the even sicker Moamar Qaddaffi: there is no black or brown country yet, in the entire world that embraces rights the way this majority white one does. How about a little graciousness towards those who actually made this day possible.
And then of course there was the verbally challenged Poet Laureate who offered up notes for something -- poetry, prose who knows? Maybe she put off the actual writing until it was too late to cough up anything but her notes.
And what can "Love with no need to preempt grievance" possibly mean? In English that is.
Poet Elizabeth Alexander's poem, delivered at the inauguration of President Barack Obama.
Praise song for the day.
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others’ eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair. Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice. A woman and her son wait for the bus. A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, “Take out your pencils. Begin.” We encounter each other in words, Words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; Words to consider, reconsider. We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, “I need to see what’s on the other side; I know there’s something better down the road.” We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see. Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of. Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables. Some live by “Love thy neighbor as thy self.” Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need. What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance. In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun. On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.
And this -- from Mike Antonovich -- needs no comment:
Headlines On This Date 4 Years Ago:
"Republicans spending $42 million on inauguration while troops Die in unarmored Humvees"
"Bush extravagance exceeds any reason during tough economic times"
"Fat cats get their $42 million inauguration party, Ordinary Americans get the shaft"
"Historic Obama Inauguration will cost only $120 million"
"Obama Spends $120 million on inauguration; America Needs A Big Party"
"Everyman Obama shows America how to celebrate"
"Citibank executives contribute $8 million to Obama Inauguration"
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