Sam Smith
I spent most of my life thinking Congregationalists were kind of boring, like the Chevies of Protestantism. But then I hadn't done much theological rummaging in
"When Hillary was crying--and people said that was put-on--I really don't believe it was put-on. I really believe that she just always thought 'This is mine. I'm Bill's wife. I'm white. And this is mine. And I jus' gotta get up. And step into the plate.' And then out of nowhere came, "Hey, I'm Barack Obama." And she said: 'Oh, damn! Where did you come from? I'm white! I'm entitled! There's a black man stealing my show.' She wasn't the only one crying! There was a whole lotta white people cryin'"
Barack Obama wasn't around the hear the performance, but he wasn't unfamiliar with Rev. Pfleger, having obtained for him, while a state senator, a $100,000 grant for the youth center at his church. Pfleger was also a rare member of the clergy to support Obama in his run against Robby Rush, according to James Taranto in the Wall Street Journal.
So now Obama is in trouble again. But why? After all, we're talking about a candidate so cautious that he changes positions in parenthetical phrases using the commas like they were chains on a playground swing set. Despite Wright and Pfleger, no one has come up with a single example of Obama saying anything outrageous about anything. And when you disconnect his teleprompters, his passion seems to wither under questioning like he was trying to guess which response his professor really wants. He even dances like a Harvard Law graduate.
So unless Obama is some alien creature whose true nature was transformed during space travel, the attempts to draw a parallel between his preacher pals and himself is ridiculous. Except for one thing. What's a stiff, ponderous guy like him doing hanging out with such types?
Part of the answer is that's the way you do things in
So let's not begrudge the guy having had a little fun. He'll soon be back sitting at the table, frowning, pretending to write something and trying to look as contemplative as possible. How would you like to talk about hope and dreams twelve times a day without any relief? Besides, it's a hell of a lot better than getting it off by screwing young aides in the Oval Office or invading