Who is Michelle Obama? And why her obsession with straight haired wigs?Michelle Larue Robinson Obama (Soetoro) is a self-loathing female who’s gonna make you pay and pay and pay because she grew up hating that she wasn’t you. Hating that she was born black, grew to be basketball player tall, had a bulky, un-proportioned, and overweight body, was born black, big-footed, ashy-skinned, kinky-haired, bug-eyed and bushy eyebrowed. Did I mention that she was born black, had a cro-magnon lower jaw, wide nose, and a chip on her even wider shoulders because she was born black and grew up learning that whitey was the enemy. That it was all whitey’s fault then, and would ever be.
Her daddy taught her that in life as in politics, you have to “get over” on the white man because the white-controlled world will always keep her down, never let her measure up, never be equal to white folks. (Read her Princeton thesis…) That she was a token “negress” who “got by” because of whitey’s insulting affirmative action quota system that made allowances for “her kind” because blacks aren’t as good, smart, etc.
This put her one-down, second best to others who didn’t have the same color skin, who had to earn their way — without the insult — into the best schools in America. How could she be proud of herself or her country when she knew society said that because of her color, she needed an affirmative action jump-start because her racial circumstances meant she didn’t “measure up”. Hell, I’d be pissed off too.Later, parlayed into the Chicago political scene through her father’s wardboss connections, Michelle Larue Robinson fell into a pot of glitter when her gal pal ValJar introduced her to a skinny, exotic foreigner who was being groomed by powerful people to go places — maybe even Chicago mayor!!! Michelle recognized a ticket to ride. She wanted children, a family, but needed a husband to get there. Conversely, the skinny cokehead needed her connections in the black community.No doubt she figured she could whip this lazy pot smoker into shape. So she went for it — marrying the bony-assed, lazy, foul-breath gayboy, who believed then and even more now that he’s Allah’s gift to the world. So, it was a marriage of “convenience” — each of them got a partner with a beard. She got her kids. He got Reggie Love. (Ask Mrs. Robinson what she thinks of son-in-law Barry…)
Into the marriage a few years, broke and disgusted, Michelle came this close to divorcing him, but events intervened and no doubt she’s thanked her lucky stars many times since that she stayed. Because now she’s in the “queenly” position of First Lady where she can shed that “ugly little negro girl” self image, spending gawdonlyknows how much money and time to rid herself of that self-loathing self-image.With a retinue of stylists, she’s transformed the ugly duckling into a svelte swan, with makeup experts, wigs, cosmetic surgery, gym workouts, capped teeth, and designer clothes that “toute le monde” has decreed “beautiful, trend setting, etc.” (No matter that the rest of us are reminded of a trannie performing at The Pickle Barrel in a blue light district. With bangs.)
But I think that deep inside, the hurts and anger and resentments still simmer. The adult Michelle knows that without the paint, the lashes, the wigs, the plucked, the shaved, the creamed, the thousand dollar frocks, she still feels ugly. It’s why she hates — hates America, hates us. Because down deep, she hates herself. She knows the mocking that emanates from people who are not enthralled. And people are canny — they know the weak spots, just where to target the arrows that hurt. Give her this, though — she’s soaking it for all it’s worth — traveling to places she’s dreamed of, made all the sweeter because it’s on our dime. With every trip she’s giving us the finger, albeit a long, slender, manicured one. Photographed by top photogs as she lies draped on sofas, she wears a “F-you” expression on her expertly brushed, blushed and glossed face.
The media hordes adore her, so that’s where she feels her best — in front of their cameras lapping up her every word, her every nuance, like kids licking an ice cream cone. Mingling with Marxist glitterati who would happily suck her toes if she offered a well manicured foot.She loves the stage. The life she’s now living is a dream come true: Queen of the Land. The world is her stage, with an army of minions there to serve her. She revels in the glow of the camera lights, and standing before adoring media masses, her eyes practically roll in ecstasy. She waves her bared, sculpted arms, defying you to envy them. On Oscar Awards night, she was in absolute glory when she — in her newest thousand dollar, straight-haired, long-banged wig — was all Hollywood, glitter and sparkle, as America’s eyes watched when she announced the Best Picture award. An Oscar cameo! Oh-oh-oh orgasmic!Living for those moments, they’re what make her dream come true — the one she dreamt when she was little Michelle Larue with the kinky hair.
Far too many of our black brothers and sisters haven’t figured out that she’s using them and their pride in the nation’s first “Black” president. She sends them computerized “personal” emails, love letters on behalf of Barack, to invite them — for a donation of “just three dollars” — to gamble that they’ll be the ones chosen to dine with one of their own — the first cool, hip, smooth, (shhhh…half white) black president.
This from a community she scorns. After all, they remind her of what she works hard to disguise and forget — the little girl with brown skin and kinky hair. And that’s why she goes for the straight-haired wigs. They make her look more… well, less black.That is Michelle Larue Robinson Obama. This is a dangerous woman, motivated by hate and resentment.And though I understand what motivates her, for the first time in my adult life, I am not proud of our First Lady. Or her husband either.