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Whether you think that Obama might deliver us into the promised land, or you’re a tad suspicious that he might just be (gasp!) another president– you know you want an Obama action figure!
Something to shake when Guantanamo isn’t closed in a year. Someone to eyeball when we are still in Iraq in 2011…
Or, maybe, it can be one of those random things that get passed down. An heirloom…
Graham Smith over at The Mail Online asks if “Post-inauguration euphoria sweeping America could result in an Obama baby boom.”
Well, I must say– that tux, that song: talk about bringin’ sexy back to the white house!
(Okay, I’m pretty sure the “back” part is an overstatement! Still, don’t tell me some babies didn’t almost get made up in your house.)
Here is a video of the first dance, with Barack Obama’s “I’m gonna hide my nervousness by trying to be suave” intro, and Beyonce’s rendition of Etta James’ “At Last.”
“First of all… how good lookin’ is my wife?” Hmmm-hmm:
So here is the question: do we take the Sasha and Malia Obama dolls as shameless profiteering, or do we take the dolls as part and parcel of wanting to celebrate everyone’s favorite new family?
To be honest, I’m hard-pressed not to see this as pretty shameless. But, at the same time, my perusal of the comments at sites like Huffington Post gets me feeling a little bit suspicious in the other direction. Most of the comments there and elsewhere, are pretty, well, poopy. A little more mean in spirit than snark; a vague hostility whose target is unclear. I can’t quite put my finger on it.
While poking about, sussing out my thoughts, I come across this website, called Dolls Like Me.
I must say, in the context of this site, Sasha and Malia dolls resume being awesome. Now they remind me of all the dolls so many Americans have wanted to exist for so long: black dolls, relevant dolls, gasp– dolls like me!
(Or maybe you.)
Not to go all Tabitha Soren on you, but wouldn’t it be nice if national politics really became the next big urban youth trend? I know that Diddy tried it with his 2003 “Vote or Die” fashion venture youth campaign, but maybe this time around might we go for something a bit more, uh, nuanced?
This week Barack Obama ended his latest Harlem World tour with a $50 ticket fundraiser at the Apollo Theater. One of the openers for the night’s events was Chris Rock, who I guess was there to keep the crowd happy while Obama dined with Al Sharpton at Sylvia’s (cliche much?) before his big speech.
Keeping in mind the ongoing fascination with the national black leaderships alleged dislike of the latest Big O (hi Juan!), this moment couldn’t have been better timed: dinner with Sharpton, stumping by Chris Rock, and some fancy words from Cornel West.
And whatever any of the above’s motivation in falling in behind Obama might be, I can’t help but think that Rock himself best summarized the changing tide of sentiment. As Bonney Kapp reports:
Rock, never one to shy away from blunt language, told the crowd that he was glad to see the crowd “on the right side of history.” Because, he said, “You’d be real embarrassed if he won and you wasn’t down with it. ‘I can’t call him now! I had that white lady. What was I thinking? What was I thinking,” he joked, referring to Obama’s main rival for the Democratic nomination, Hillary Clinton.
Isn’t it interesting how, on the one hand the Obama and HClinton candidacies supposedly signal a new day for America, but at the same time all this ugliness can’t help but seep out around the edges?
Admittedly, I don’t have much faith in Romney, but I did expect better from John Edwards, before the Esquire thing (see below).
First, of course you’ve seen this: Mitt Romney posing with a sign that reads “No to Obama, Osama, and Chelsea’s Moma.”
Now, I’m all for poetry. I even harbor a genuine soft spot for prosody in general. And I must say, the sign is quite genius in its use of thematic regression, using “osama” to shine some radical Islam/terrorism on Barack Obama, and “moma” to shine some black on Hillary Clinton. Lead-footed American genius!
But really, Mitt. Show some class, not your ass.
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