The Backlash from the Election of Obama and 9/11: The Barbarians are Inside the Gate. Excerpt from Book by Will Bunch on the New Right, Built on a Foundation of Hysteria, Racism and Islamophobia.
I read Will Bunch (Attytood) every chance I get.
“ . . . I have a birth certificate here from the United States of America saying I am an American citizen, with a seal on it . . .” She briefly turns toward the paper, as if to make certain of what she just said, then continues:
“ . . . signed by my doctor and a hospital administrator stating my parents, my date of birth, stating the time, the date. I wanna go back to January twentieth”—the day that Barack Obama became president, the day that changed everything—“and I wanna know why are you people ignoring his birth certificate?!” The mention of the birth certificate gets a big roar and a couple of full-throat-and-belly cheers, and the uproar only grows in volume as the woman in red picks up verbal steam.
“He is not an American citizen!!! He is a citizen of Kenya!” Hands in front of the woman in red now smack together in fervent applause. “I am here because my father fought in World War Two with the Greatest Generation in the Pacific Theater for this country, and I don’t want this flag to change!
“I want my country back!”
I've seen Obama's birth certificate and so have you. Sometimes I wonder what part of "Certificate Of Live Birth" doesn't say "Birth Certificate" to the birther faction of the Dead End Quarter? Maybe they can't read. More likely, the truth doesn't fit their narrative.
You oughta see my Birth Certificate. It looks like something you'd give a Cub Scout at the annual awards dinner for helping the most little old ladies across the street. It has the name of the hospital in big letters and the birthee's name (mine) and the date and time of the blessed event and "Mr. & Mrs. G's dad's name" printed in fountain pen (no ball points back then). The back is blank except for my weight and length, same fountain pen.
No official seal, no fancy filigree around the edges, no footprints, no mention of ethnicity, no nuthin'. I'm lucky I had the original when Social Security time came around because I had to send it to them. I hadn't seen it in probably fifty years and had to look around for it a little. A little. Heh. Getting a copy of the o-fish-ul Los Angeles County Hall Of Records one (I think there is one) would have been a time-consuming hassle. They sent it back and started sending me money every month, so I guess it was good enough to prove I'm who I say I am.
Pardon me for going off like that, but I did all that after this birther shit came up, and I was dazzled by the lack of officiallookingness on my own birth certificate in the wake of all the phony brouhaha about Obama's.
That's just one segment of Mr. Bunch's excerpt. Please read the rest. I might haveta get the book.
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