Obama holds court

President reveals priorities with 62 day wrap-up


The reason I enjoy following the day to day workings of Washington politics is the same reason I like watching full sports seasons; consequences. For D.C. pols, there are scorecards, games, and wins.

Two months into his presidency, Barack Obama's 4 year fight is taking shape. Predictably, his Republican opponents, and even his more moderate supporters, will forever accuse him of being too ambitious in spending and policy. He is, after all, a Democrat, and so that is his eternal cross to bear.

And then, of course, there is the War. Obama's war to save the economy (or war on the economy, depending on your side of the line) is the crux of this term. It is pretty much a winner-take-all gambit to convince the American people to re-up his contract in 4 years, and re-up his teammates in 2. But he has a plan.

Obama's plan is almost bafflingly consistent with the tenets he laid out in his policy/ memoir Audacity of Hope. The only way to engender solvency in our nation as a whole, the only way to balance the books, is to take a multipronged approach. These are not luxury issues he and his team are attacking, these are the fundamental keys to rebuilding American prosperity and remembering promise.

The keys are A) To overhaul healthcare, and reduce its crippling burden on our society at large.

B) Create an environment where clean energy is the profitable sort of energy, and ease our transition away from dependence on trade with volatile nation states.

C) Finally, the old political standby, reinvest in education. The only added wrinkle is that this time, if we don't commit to optimizing the values of educations K-12 and beyond, we will lose vital ground to foreign workforces.

These are the president's primary tenets. Respect and work with them, he tells us, and we can spur on economic growth, and reduce our federal deficit.

There was intrigue in this press conference beyond the obvious. Once the president had finished his opening statement, the game of D.C. media favoritism began. Make no mistake, there was an order of operations to Tuesday night's national televised presser. The order in which Obama took questions was a tangible way to break down the priorities of the White House. This was PEMDAS for POTUS. The following is the order in which news outlets were called upon for questions, with a quick summary of the direction of their questioning.

1)Associated Press
2)NBC News
3)ABC News
4)CBS News

The first round of questions were the most obvious ones. Essentially, all the heaviest of news' hitters went straight for the politics of the budget. They took varied tones, notably with NBC's Chuck Todd providing his usual brand of hero worship, and CBS going hard at the realities of the deficit projections of 5 years down the line and beyond. The president was nimble and up front, facing the realities while being forceful in his belief in his policies. The AP gets out to all the news outlets in America, and it was the 3 major networks that had forked over the prime-time programming slots to the president's agenda, so there was no surprise in giving the respect to give them all the first pass. It was after this obvious opening that things got interesting.

5) Univision: They asked about the growing fear of Mexican drug wars.
6) Stars and Stripes/ Stripes.com: Military spending cuts and the implications.
7) CNN: AIG outrage
8) Fox News: China and international threat to the dollar.

I thought it was really noteworthy that Obama took the effort to go to the Spanish language news, and then veterans affairs news, before addressing the cable news crowd. There was some gamesmanship there, to be sure, because it wasn't as if the order were set based on ratings. In any case, it was good to see Fox News put in their place. This order revealed a desire to speak directly to the people, not the talking heads that tell them what to believe.

9) Politico: Taxes, and charitable donation writeoffs.
10)Ebony: Tent cities, and homelessness among youth.
11)ABC Radio: Race in the White House.
12)The Washington Times: Embryonic Stem cell and scientific policy.
13)Agence France-Presse: Israel and the Middle East.

A couple change-ups here, with Obama making a point to open the forum to crowds that may not always receive the deference of the so called “media elite.” Politico was characteristically inside-policy, taking on an issue that dealt with real numbers and hard realities. Ebony went for a deeply social issue, hoping to bring the conversation to the inner struggles of the American people. Talk radio seemed downright shocked to be given the floor, and went for the kind of pointless controversy that perpetuates talk radio; race baiting. The Washington Times went for the thinking man's controversy, digging in to the reclamation of science, while the AFP gaged Obama's understanding of delicate foreign issues.

And that was that. Within an hour, President Obama had answered direct questions on each and every major issue that his administration has tackled in its opening sprint. He was accessible, thorough, and consistent. He took the last question from the AFP as an opportunity to sum up his principals, and convey why they were interdependant. Unlike his detractors, he has a plan, and it is comprehensive.

Seeing the line of questioning in total gave a sense of just how much the administration has already taken on, and already accomplished. There are arguments to be made on either side of the aisle, to be sure, but there has been no attempt to back down from any of the issues, or to shut down any line of questioning. This, we can only hope, is what transparency looks like.

The president takes off to confer now with the rest of the world. This will be an ordeal, to be sure, as the rest of the G20 finally come face to face with the new leader of the free world. This latest media blitz by the White House seems to draw a curtain on the administration's infancy. It is the end of the beginning. We know the problems we face, and we've got a man with the plan at the helm. As he said, the nation is not a speedboat, it is an ocean liner. We're beginning to find out just what sort of navigator he is.

We Were There: Part II- Being There

It has been on the calendar for months. The countdown has ruled the news, and dominated the conversation. On January 20th, 2009, Barack Hussein Obama would be sworn in as the 44th President of the United States, and millions flocked to the country’s capital to see it for themselves, and share in the celebration of our great nation.

A night with too much to do, and a morning that can’t start early enough, results in a Tuesday that doesn’t so much begin, as a Monday that never ends. The bleed of one day into a new one surreally kicks the Inaugural proceedings. There is no sleep to be had given the palpable sense of potential crackling in the air. There’s too much to consider, wonder over, and await for a moment’s rest. The day is pregnant with possibility.

College students began migrating to the subway rails as soon as they opened at 4 A.M. There were rumors that the gates would be swamped from the get-go, leading to a general consensus that there was no “too soon” to head downtown. The threat of paralyzing overcrowding loomed perilously, but trains every running three minutes keeps traffic to a relative minimum. Of course, the closer the train cars got to the heart of the city, the more flushed and desperate the crowds became. More than one passenger shares anecdotes about Tokyo subway-stuffers, whose primary objective is to forcibly maximize the number of rider per car. It got less funny each mention.

The subway ride was an ominous precursor to the downtown area itself. The first hint was as the Federal Center SW subway stop, where Silver level ticket holders were told they would be admitted to their designated area, in between the reflecting pool and the near section of the Mall. However, when the subway pulls in to the stop the doors never open. The station is empty, and we’re off to the next stop. We arrived one stop later at Capitol South, and passengers flood the station.

Chaos seemed imminent, when a Metro employee started a calming chant. “Keep it moving,” she demanded. It was non-negotiable command, but there was no aggression associated. “Keep it moving. Keep it moving.” There were a thousand people pushing through the turn styles and up the escalator, anxious to get their hands on history. Crowds of that size are inherently unruly, but this one had a sense of purpose. The employee gave that purpose. “Keep it moving,” she repeated, until finally, the response came back from the crowd.



“Keep it moving.”
“Keep it moving!” the crowd agreed. The call and response kept everything orderly and on track. She called and we answered, and it wasn’t long before everyone reached the sunny exterior. The faces told the story; everyone was finally There.


The crowds parted in accordance with ticket color, and began their slow lurch to the viewing area. Everyone packed so tight that one person’s lean to became the other’s lean fro. We swayed as one, supporting each other, holding each other up, and sharing the weight and responsibility of the moment.

At the access point on Third Street and Independence Avenue, an ever-denser migratory bottle neck developed. The city was clogged to its max, and it showed. People grew naturally ornery, as expected, but only as tense as they allowed themselves to be. Moments became hours of frustration, but everyone conversed and made the best of things. The crowd was herded into a barricaded area, and anxiously awaited their front seat to history.

Everyone here had a ticket. Some were relative locals from Virginia and Baltimore, whose tickets came from their local representatives. There are out of towners, arriving from California, and Louisiana, and everywhere else across the country. There are D.C. insiders, or friends of friends, with professional ties and access. There were families, couples, and aged activists. Everyone there seemed stunned to even be there, both due to their own personal luck, and the sheer unlikelihood of the event itself.

I cleared security right as the governors took their seats. After the best dodging, weaving, swerving, and lead blocking I had in me, I settled into a viewing spot on Jefferson Drive SW and Third; a massive screen in the foreground, and the Capitol Building’s festivities in the background. Right then, the celebrity seating rounds begin.

The first to receive the crowd’s accolades is Massachusetts’ own senior Senator. Senator Ted Kennedy swore to the Democratic Convention that he would meet them on these steps, and the crowd showed him with love for it. The stars continued to pour out, and the mass of spectators voted their approval with their voices. Beyonce Knowles was a huge crowd pleaser, as was Oprah Winfrey. Connecticut Senator Joe Lieberman was jeered lustily, branded a party traitor, despite the day’s themes of unity. The Clintons seemed to be among the last shown, with the people agreeing that as a melodramatic moment, it was trademark Clintonian. Everyone filtered in. When Vice President Dick Cheney was shown being pushed in a wheelchair, someone pointed out the resemblance he struck to the villainous Mr. Potter of “It’s a Wonderful Life.” It was hard to deny.

Finally, after the former presidents were seated, the motorcade approached, and the throng built to its fever pitch. The door was shown opening, and a shadow of the soon-to-be president appeared on the screen. Cheers abounded. It was finally time.

The buzz of the mob was the expected reaction to the image of our now former President George W. Bush. The easiest parallel to draw would be the Fenway crowd the first day Johnny Damon visited as a Yankee. Ideally, the horde would rise above the pettiness of cat-calling a Commander in Chief, but it was obvious that was not going to happen. The event’s planners clearly expected this, as a concerted effort was made to minimize Bush’s screen time. After Obama was finally revealed to the cameras, Bush was frequently shown on screen at the same time as the new Head of State, as if to confound the masses, and discourage their hearty, embarrassing boos.

After what felt like a lifetime of pomp and circumstance, the ceremony finally began. Dianne Feinstein emcees, and opens the service masterfully. Dr. Rick Warren, despite the controversy surrounding his selection in giving the Invocation, delivered a prayer of cautious optimism, intended to speak all Americans, regardless of political affiliation or faith base.

When Aretha Franklin shared her renowned voice with the Mall, the moment solidified. The crowd swelled with her introduction. The R.E.S.P.E.C.T.-demanding diva’s presence implicitly affirmed the unique celebration of this fifty-sixth Inauguration, and her performance rose to the moment.

Joe Biden’s swearing was warmly embraced the crowd, if a bit overlooked. Biden has been like a passenger to history, faithfully doing his job by being a likable counterpart to the now former ‘Vice.’ Yo-Yo Ma headlined a quartet to a John Williams composition, and the ultimate moment arrived.

The Presidential Oath of Office blurred by, and before anyone knew it, Barack Obama was the forty-fourth President of the United States.

Obama’s Inaugural Address was no surprise to anyone who paid close attention to his speeches of the last year. The masses hushed to a respectful silence, eager to hear, first-hand, the biggest speech in modern media history. It was a scientific distillation of every the best parts of the election’s stump speeches, touched with pragmatism, and a heaping spoonful of the Presidents’ patent-brand eloquent and loquacious public oratory.

This was masterpiece. It was the total sum of a twelve month master thesis on the state and direction of our nation by a brilliant analyst. It touched on where we had come from, what change we’d embraced, and what we need to do moving forward. It was no surprise, then, how effectively Obama rocked his swarm of loyal supporters. He captured everyone from the front row to the cheap seats. He made the moment his own, and he made it for everyone.

After the speech, the crowds broke. Relegated to the rear of the ticketed section, I made my way towards the Capitol Building. The Capitol Reflecting Pool had frozen over, and so people made their way across to take a closer look at the departing party. The moment had passed, although wise attendees paid attention to Reverend Dr. Joseph Lowery’s powerful Benediction. People went their separate ways, exhausted, elated, and changed.

In the twenty blocks from front steps of the Capitol down Independence Avenue to the Washington Monument, people bought kitsch and memorabilia, and reveled in their joy. Busses attempted to leave town, however hopelessly. Everyone soaked it in. There were two million individual voyages that brought this American assemblage together, but now that it was over, there was one story, and one moment shared.

We Can, He Did, We Were there.

We Were There; Part I Getting There

Today, George W. Bush will no longer be president, and Barack Obama will be. That simple fact has been the driving force that has pushed millions of Americans to our nation’s front steps. Personally, on November fifth, I decided I was going to Washington D.C., no matter the cost.

After a letter to Massachusetts’ Sixth District Representative John Tierney’s office, and a huge amount of logistical help from his entire office, I had an access ticket to the Washington Mall, where, in front of indeterminate million people, Barack Obama will be sworn in as the 44th president of these United States of America. For months, Americans, and the American media, have exhausting held the conversation of how historic this monumental moment is, and what it means to America in the context of the world at large. Every angle has been covered, now all that’s left is the public promise that Barack Obama will make to honorably serve the American people. As such, millions of Americans are flocking to the nation’s capitol, eager to capture and experience this historic moment for themselves.

My trip starts Sunday with a subway ride to South Station, where I will catch a bus that goes first to New York city, and then on to Washington D.C. I leave at 1 P.M., and am scheduled to arrive at around 11 P.M. I was never optimistic about this arrival time.

As soon as I step in the station, the palpable energy begins to emerge. When a man asks directions to the airport, there is no question as to where he is flying. Everyone seems to have something packed. I see a street person with a garbage bag full of his possessions, and can’t help but wonder if he has travel plans of his own. He seems to- his look of utter resolve suggesting that even a man of his means is making this trek.

The bus ride to New York is hard to read, as one can never really predict why someone is going to New York. As I board, Outkast’s “Rosa Parks,” rolls into my head. A moment later, I realize why. Whites are sitting in the back of this bus on this ride, and the utter irrelevance of that fact is a true testament to this country’s progress.

The bus is, for an event like this, is for the truly committed. There is no pretending that it will be pleasant, or any less than a ten hour pledge altogether. Beyond that, when taking a bus, there is a far greater risk of delays and headaches. The New York bus’s crowd seems steeled to this, and no one is surprised when, within moments of pulling out of Penn Station, passengers learn there will be no overhead lights on this ride. There is nothing to do but sleep, however tenuously, and wait.

The silent understanding of all the travelers is telling. There is no doubt to anyone’s destination, and motivation. For Bostonians, it is a familiar feeling. A decade of sports dominance has spoiled the city with Championship celebrations. Red Sox Nation, Patriots’ pledges, and Celtic faithful have all had their chance to take to the streets and revel in showers of victory. Today, it is America at large that celebrates. One needn’t have voted for Obama, or support his politics, to appreciate how much America is enjoying this moment, and how much that suggests we needed it. Maybe his mandate will be mismanaged, and the optimism soured, but today there is nothing to do but hope.



The bus arrives in D.C. minutes after midnight, making good time. Unfortunately, those moments cost riders their shot at the city’s last subway. To make matters worse, the streets are flushed with tuxedos and ball gowns, all recently departing their various galas. The result is a dearth of cabs, with hundreds fruitlessly milling about the streets. Curiously, there are empty cabs refusing fares, (although my estimation is that they have been paid off by high rollers to be available at a moment’s notice).

After nearly an hour of futility, my traveling companion and I secure a taxi. When the man next to us, himself failing to get a ride, is visibly distraught over being spurned, our cabbie asks if we’d mind doubling up with an additional passenger. We quickly agree, as an hour in the cold will make anyone sympathetic. We pick up one more struggling pedestrian, filling the cab.

In the cab there is no explicit discussion of the Obamanon surrounding us, instead focusing on the city’s overload, and the impossibility of managing it. When the conversation turns to the wayward cabs that are refusing service, I observe that it is hard to believe anyone would refuse money in this economy. Soon everyone is lending their opinions on the downturns’ origins. The driver, a part time real estate agent, talks of bank foreclosures and lowered resale prices. The front-seat passenger, a New York City broker, lays blame on shady, back-room dealings. The other guest-rider, a student at nearby George Washington, bites her tongue; almost as if she knows that she doesn’t have enough information available to say anything definitive.

We share an enjoyable ride, and bid friendly farewells. D.C.’s intuitive grid-layout makes the route direct, despite three destinations, and the taxi driver’s ingenuity makes him a killing.

Our destination is a consummate crash pad. It is a seven roommate house, and a total nexus of youthful exuberance. It has basically become a hostel, with everyone there friends of friends. No one bothers to suppress their excitement. Socializing, I gripe about the difficult journey I’ve just finished, only to learn that the person I was telling my troubles to has only just arrived from Omaha, via Philadelphia. A quick calculation later, and my suffering is obscured by their twenty-three hour sacrifice.



One beverage later, and it is time to retire. An air-mattress on the laundry room floor ain’t the Ritz, but that doesn’t make the sleep any less rejuvenatingly satisfying. The next day is a lazy one of recovery and preparation. Everyone in the District is in a holding pattern, collectively holding their breath and waiting for Tuesday’s early morning festivities. The energy nears critical mass, with lines just to get subway passes in advance of Tuesday’s assured chaos.

I take the day to meet up with a cousin, a freshman at nearby American University. On November fourth, it was he and his peers who flocked to the gates of the White House, cheering in celebration. I reflect to him that when I was a freshman we were a year removed from 9/11, and on the cusp of invading Iraq. His college experience is mostly familiar to my own at UMASS. There are floor-wide games of HALO, posters of Bob Marley, and not twenty minutes after my arrival to the dorm, crazy relationship drama unfolds, apparently involving every person on the floor. It is the quintessential American experience at American University, except that history is happening in their backyard.

My early years at UMASS-Amherst were full of Boston-sports related massive celebrations, that some have called ‘riots.’ Those events were great, but were ultimately all of their positivity were locally limited, and came at the cost of someone else. These kids’ experience is similar, but the victory they celebrate is one, not of regional success, but the triumph of America as a whole, and as an ideal. It is reassuring that they all appear to be sufficiently appreciating it.

It is an early night for everyone, with Tuesday morning itineraries starting no later than 5 A.M. The anticipation across the globe is reaching critical mass, and no one can wait to be at its epicenter.

In a few hours, George W. Bush will no longer be president, and Barack Obama will be. What that means to every U.S. citizen is distinct and unique. But for the millions that have flocked to Washington D.C., it can’t come fast enough.

A Distillation of Victory

As a sports fan lucky enough to be from Boston, in these modern days, I am acquainted with the luxury and spoils brought by victory. And winning is baller.



A championship, even merely spectated, creates a shared experience that serve as validation of the investments of time and mental energy put forth by the rigors of fandom.

It is also a celebration of unity and community. In land where we spend more time griping about our differences than similarities, there are few opportunities to truly share.

And so when the clock struck 11:00 P.M. last Tuesday, and every major network announced that Barack Obama had been called to serve as the 44th president of these United States, the jubilation that erupted in the streets and on the broadcasts across the country was not personally unprecedented. It reminded me, hey, this is simply what it feels like to win.



Maybe it illicits hugs from total strangers. It may boil down to simple eye contact made with another, silently sharing the moment. Maybe you get lucky. Weeping, cheering, dancing, and drinking are all pretty acceptable options. I personally took a hint from Celtics' patriarch Red Aurbach, and coolly, arrogantly lit a cigar.

But the important thing is the embrace of the moment; the assuring knowledge that this is pretty much as good as it gets. The world is so big, and its issues so unwieldy, it is easy to forget the sensation of the good guys victorious.

It took actually happening for everyone to fully realize how much we needed this. The subtexts of this election were extrapolated upon at length, but more importantly than any particular racial hurdle, the country needed to have something “trancendent” to rally around. We needed to feel good again.






Too often, we only really share the negative. We go through economic crises together. We grow weary of our international responsibilities together. We mourn the tragic loss of brothers and sisters together.

Which is funny, because shared suffering makes up the main thrust of sports' fandom.

For years, Red Sox fans understood their lot in life. Ours was a predetermined destiny. We were the “Wait until next year,” team. This was an identity that reinforced itself more and more every year. Every loss, and every failure only dug us deeper into a state of perpetual disappointment and inferiority.

Then they overcame it. The burden was relieved, and a new era began. A new brand, a new identity, and a new perspective was granted. We made it. And due to the many years of suffering, we knew we'd earned it.




And that was what happened. It wasn't that Barack was the Black president. He was the Right president. This was not an apology by the American people to any specific community, or an exercise in affirmative action, or an optimistic roll of the dice. This was an informed opinion. This election does not change American history, but it does change the course of it. Change came to America. While the President-elect has a steep challenge ahead of him, he is only asked what we ask every Head of State; be our best. Represent our ideals, respect our wishes, make our difficult decisions and we will stand behind you.

We vote to select our leadership, but after that we are pretty much spectators. It doesn't mean what happens doesn't effect us, but we have mostly surrendered our power and are in it for the ride. Over the course of a term, or a season, there are peaks and valleys. There are big losses, and minor victories. But what we need to remember is that we are all on the same team. We all want the same things. We want to end up at the same place.



The winner's circle.

There are very few moments that truly transcend the individual experience for the societal one. What's more, when they do happen, they are too often marred by tragedy. But sometimes, if you're patient, if you're lucky, and if you back the right horse, there is a reward at the finish line. Winning feels good. And it's addictive.

Now that we've all voted, we've surrendered any sort of control. Among us, there will inherently be those who will criticize every move- Monday Morning Quaterbacks, or armchair managers ready and eager to discuss shortcomings at length. There will be others who instead defend and rationalize. We will clash and argue about it because we care about the outcome, because it is our only power.

But as we learned last Tuesday, we can celebrate together. Let's hold on to that.

See you at the Inauguration. I'll be the one with the cigar.

The Righteous Indignation Playlist

Well, we're almost at the finish of this historically historic race. While a large part of the notability surrounding this election is due to the candidates on the ticket, it is also the unprecedented election coverage. If you so choose, or are uncontrollably compelled, you can be tracking this election all day, every day. Personally, I've read the books, kept up with the papers, stayed abreast of the TV punditry, tracked the blogs, and watched the Youtube movement. I've craved every single facet and nuance of this battle for the big seat, and I got it.

And I am fucking exhausted.

I guess it's called "campaign fatigue." It is really just emotionally draining to be so thoroughly invested in something too large to really control. It is a lot like watching a sports team in the playoffs, only there is no looming offseason. Instead, there is an era we will enter, either to move forward or to stay firmly entrenched in where we already stand.

In an effort to calm my nerves, I decided I needed a playlist. It would have to be the kind of playlist you would play in a locker room in the hours leading up to a season-defining game. It would need to cover the gamut of associated emotions, emphasizing the broad stroke, large beats that led to our arrival at this extraordinary juncture. It's time to get psyched.


Start with Nas' latest power processional, Hero. As a nation, we are clearly struggling to nail down our own identity, and if I've learned anything in a lifetime of reading comics, it is that heroes arise from situations of need. The powerful drumbeat of this track pretty much pulls my puppet string, righteously raising my fist to the air. This song is a call to action, inspiring the listener to quit the surrender of apathy, and take control. If I were Captain America, this is the song I would listen to as I pulled the cowl over my head.


Public Enemy pretty much invented political hip-hop, and their track Son of a Bush is a great example of how finely they can articulate a point. What John McCain fails to realize when he says "I'm not George Bush," is that the need for a Democratic president is not solely about the person who has lived in the White House these last 8 years, but also the ideology that drove his administration. Besides, Chuck D. was battling George H.W. Bush on policy twenty years ago, and he was no less pissed at this Bush.

Because what has W. done for us? He inherited a surplus, and squandered it. September 11th earned America, and Bush's White House by extension, an unprecedented amount of international goodwill. However, our reckless approach to the War on Terror, and our bull-headed, independent, uncompromising charge into Iraq, and the travesties of Guantanamo Bay have robbed our nation of the hard-earned reputation of benevolence, replaced with the specter of an unchecked superpower gone mad.

International man-at-large David Bowie understands this, which probably explains,"I'm afraid of Americans."

Our century-long persona as the world's benign protector is forever sullied. We are exposed as being just as petty as any less influential nation, but with bigger guns.

At home, we all felt a huge swell of nationalism and pride in our home when the towers fell. Over time, though, as that fervent passion was turned from a defense mechanism to an offense mechanism, a chasm began to grow within the country. Complex issues were boiled down to bumper sticker slogans, and those who challenged our mutual direction as a country were discounted as an unpatriotic radical. As Green Day put it, we no longer lionized intelligence and insight. Instead, the American Ideal was an American Idiot.


Green Day's "American Idiot," album captured that growing divide, reminding us that it wasn't always like this.

We were powerful, we were angry, and we were on the hunt. But were we right? Were our actions justified? Was this new America built on trust, or had we been mislead and manipulated to whatever ends best suited our leaders? Were there WMDs? Was there an imminent danger? Did we take for granted, maybe, that our Best and Brightest would
Tell the Truth?



Immortal Technique, without a doubt, is a radical. But much of what he says rings true. Too often in the cultural consciousness, we lumped Iraqi nationalists with religious extremists. Further inspection proves this to be a fallacy, however, as Technique explains, "Cuz if another country invaded the hood tonight/ It'd be warfare through Harlem, and Washington Heights/ I wouldn't be fightin' for Bush or White America's dream/ I'd be fightin' for my people's survival and self-esteem/ I wouldn't fight for racist churches from the south/ I'd be fightin' to keep the occupation out." Once again, we oversimplified an issue to put our own minds at ease.

We had a chance to tilt the boards, though. In 2000, it could be said, that the American people were robbed. Ultimately, the Supreme Court decided our Chief Executive. Hey, whatever, it happened. In 2004, though, the American people got exactly what we asked for. Probably due to the slogan of the "Wag the Dog," campaign, you don't change horses midstream, especially in wartime.



We were at war with an idea, we were at war with a fragmented nation that was largely rebelling against our occupation, and, due to the deep seeded differences in governing methodologies that bred into hostility during our election, we were warring with ourselves. Eminem's Mosh was a call to arms for those who felt we had strayed too far from our path. It captured the resentment commanded by the actions of our leaders. As a young man, it seemed to distill the singular idea that old men were fucking our world up.

I won't try and speak for all Americans, but after the decision made by our population at large in the 2004 election, I personally felt a disconnect between myself and the national identity at large. It just didn't seem like we shared ideals anymore. And what is America if not a shared ideal?



Then Katrina hit. Perhaps 9/11 was a loss of innocence because we were stuck at home. Outsiders violated our cultural capital, the very stronghold where we felt most invulnerable. Katrina was something worse, though, because in this conflict the only villains were nature, furious and indiscriminate, and the incompetence of those we trusted to protected our own.

If 9/11 was an airborne disease, an outside stimulus that disrupted us to our core, then Katrina was a cancer. It was proof positive of the skewed priorities of our leadership.



Maybe it wasn't true that George W. Bush didn't care at all about black people, but he clearly didn't care enough about the sanctity of American lives. There was a deficit of willingness to take care of our own. And why export freedom and democracy abroad when it was so flawed at home? If ever there was a cause to Riot.



Wyclef Jean taps into the fabricated divisions of our country when he talks about the "rock and roll boys," "hip hop boys," and "reggae boys." We have so much more in common than we have differences, and we need to remember that again. After what we've been through, we need to be the reUnited States of America.

And isn't hopeless. For one thing, for now, the world still looks to us for guidance. Our hold on this cache is loosening, but for now it is still good to be an American Boy.



But we can't afford to take this stature for granted. We have to earn it. It isn't good enough to simply rhapsodize about our own greatness, we need to show it. We can show it through empathy and equality in international policy. We can show it by electing someone that the world has already accepted as an agent of change, and an emblem of a new America.

The international community is aware of our nation's history. While it isn't fair to say that American is a more racist nation than the rest of the world, we are differently racist. A European nation may begrudge its neighbors for age-old digressions. America has to face the fact that all the most prominent, eloquent agents of social and civil change have been struck down by internal advocates of hate. We have to live with that, and it isn't as far back in our history as we might like to believe.



But from the ashes of the failed Democratic campaign of 2004 arose a seemingly impossible figure. He had paid his dues trying to right the wrongs of American domestic policy in urban communities. He had learned the law at our finest institutions, and practiced it capably. He expressed foresight with regards to the war in Iraq. His story was uniquely American, but with international flair. He had seen the effect America had on the world abroad, both because his father had emigrated here to chase the American Dream, and because he was raised in a part of the world separate from it. He knew how to speak to Americans, and he knew how to mobilize him. He was just what we needed.



The political pendulum swung as far right as it could in 2004. Common sense dictated that it would swing back left. Still, no one could predict .

The inspirational message sent by a President Obama is not simply that, hey, look, a black man can be president, too. The message resonates for all those who have been disenfranchised. For individuals, that may mean your experience as a minority. It also might be for those who felt too poor to stand a chance. It may be an immigrant's struggle to feel included in the idea of America. Or a restless American from a small town who dreams of more. The beauty of this campaign is that without specifying any one of these things, it has become about all of them. It is about, in the face of the impossible, saying, "Yes We Can."



I don't know, maybe we can't. Maybe this mountain is too big to climb. If the democrats lose this presidential election, it will be evident that theirs was an impossible task. Obama has run a damn near watertight campaign, and ran against one that seems to mystically stay afloat despite leak after leak. But the status quo is like a heavyweight champ; you won't win by decision, you've got to knock him the fuck out. No matter what, this race has come farther than anyone could have expected two, three, or four years ago. It has come to mean more. It has proven we are much closer to the future than we ever had right to believe.

Personally, I would just like to put this embarrassing era of our history to bed. I would like a loud statement that punctuates our new chapter. I need the breathe of fresh air this election could elicit. I want this period Dead and Gone, and near as I can tell, Obama is the only way.



But any playlist needs a killer finale. I'm not sure what it is yet. I know what I want it to be, but it isn't for me to decide. It comes down to-



or



And you all decide.

Pumped yet?

The Final Debate

Or; Don't Blame me, I voted for Kodos


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So I recently picked up the new Nas album. It is a profoundly political album, even for an outspoken guy like Nas. He digs his heels in the sand, and really takes a stand against what he sees as the rampant injustice we have come to accept as the American way.

For me, he really hit the nail on the head with “Black President.” It is a song that is both personal and inclusive, and my immediate reaction to it made me realize what a personal crisis the prospects of this election have become. I've gone all in. I like to think I did the research, but the fact is my vote was cast long before this race even started. So when this song combined Barack Obama, John Legend, and a Tupac hook, I was pretty much floored. For better or worse Tupac is the preeminent messianic figure in hip-hop, and his inability to be tarnished is one of those things that will stay with hip hop forever. It also explains why there will always be new Tupac tracks. I was a late-comer to the magic of Tupac, too late, in fact, to fully appreciate the rapper while he was still alive. But, hey, cut me some slack; I was eleven.

It was the postmortem song “Changes,” that eventually brought me into the Machiavellian fold. In particular, it was the line “Though it seems heaven-sent, we ain't ready to have a black president.” I learned later that this line was actually lifted from the track “I wonder if heaven got a ghetto,” but the starkness of the lyric was nothing less than revolutionary to my young brain. The world I knew was rife with injustice, and one of the greatest injustices, to me, was not only that we were yet to see anyone but wealthy white male presidents, but that the prospect of anyone other than that taking the big seat in the Oval Office seemed less likely that a Tupac resurrection.

The inclusion of this lyric as the chorus had my attention. Further, using Barack's own voice brought an urgent immediacy. There are only two short clips of his voice used; a forceful cry of “Change the world!” and “They said..” There is no reason to ask who “they”, are, because we all instinctively know. Even my eleven year old brain understood that “they” were the ones who would never allow for any significant changes in my lifetime. “They,” are the voice of pessimism that damn our expectations before we can even form them.

Nas' song shows us that we've come farther, faster, than we had any right to expect. But with that progress comes the anticipation that builds with hope.

Soon, this race will end one way or the other. Depending on November 4th's outcome, my memory of this song will forever be either eternally inspiring or equally damning. Personally, this election has become the most significant time in the American narrative since September 11th, 2001. A generation's entire faith in the competency of the system hangs in the balance. So Election Day 2008 will either be one of my proudest, or most disappointed days as an American. There is no middle ground. There is no "Wait until next year." We are either going forwards or going backwards. There is no in between.

Nas' creative sampling and alluring snare brought out a lot of things I want to believe in. But it was actually not this particular song that I felt presented the most convincing argument in settling this matter. All in all, a song called Black President is nothing if not biased.

No, it was actually a song called "We're Not Alone." It is mostly about togetherness and stuff, but it also is kind of about aliens. All the sudden, I stumbled upon the greatest debate topic yet to be raised in this election:

Who would you trust more, if you knew we were going to-

meet aliens?

C'mon! This is a completely valid issue! Why it is a valid subject? We can almost definitely assert what the reactions of both candidates would be!

I promise I'll stop using so many exclamation points, I'm just loud. But lets just postulate how the situation would go down with either of the tickets sitting in the winner's circle.

It's 2012. In the midst of a huge democratic surge, John McCain is facing a second term loss, and Sarah Palin, the national darling of the New York Post and Rupert Murdoch affiliated media, has a 23% better approval rating than Mac. He's old, but not ready to retire.

And all of the sudden reports start flooding in from across the world. South Africa confirm reports of non-humans. North Korea begins insinuating that they have a strategic alliance with the maybe-off-worlders. It all begins to look and feel like the real thing.

And McCain is like What the FUCK?

Because John McCain would be absolutely fucking ripshit if this kind of thing went down and he wasn't ahead of the game on it. Heads would roll. He would be his edgy, ornery self, and finally, we would have to make contact. Assumedly, whether these aliens were malicious or charitable, they would surely be able to organize and try and minimize struggle, and be 'taken to our leader.'

Eventually, someone would have to have a sit down with the leader of the Free World.

McCain would be forced to go in totally blind, all pissed to hell, and not sure if there's a war to fight or if we're about to say hello to our spankin' new energy plan.

And don't forget, it is an election year, and Palin still has that approval rating... and the polls aren't looking good...

So one way or the other, we're going to war. Because A) they might be stronger than us, which would mean we would feel threatened and not know how to cope if we felt rivaled, or, dare we say, dominated B) imagine; there would have to be some sort of magic level super science power source for these aliens to get here. The greed? The need to secure that stuff for ourselves, and horde it just in case something bad happened to it? Like if someone took it without will of the law? Like we do?

There would have to be a war. Because everyone would know that Sarah Palin could be a fine hawkish president. There would be rumblings of how this was just like caribou hunting, leaving out that we could very well be the caribou in that situation. Even a seventy-six year old McCain is way too much of a solo maverick to be thrown out, forcibly retired, for the sake of his party, that he forever regretted placating to garner support in the first place? No way.

So yeah. We'd go to war with the aliens. Maybe we'd round up a coalition of the willing, but probably not. Anyways, I'm pretty sure we'd all be dead. And if Palin were president I think I'd want to be.

Anyway I don't mean to overstate it, but it just seems to me that McCain's temper, and history as a lifelong fighter, would force him to react aggressively, if only out of insecurity. It assuredly would be an insecure situation, and to all of the sudden not have the biggest guns would be extremely traumatizing.

Regardless, the McCain/ Palin White House is not one that fills me with confidence. Especially given the fact that their party has displayed nothing but incompetence during an eight year reign. Besides, McCain would have a heart attack as soon as they beamed him up.

Okay, so what is our other option?

It is 2015 and President Obama has just finished delivering an impassioned speech in front of the new United Nations building on the fucking moon. This is a special occasion, as it is the largest moon gathering yet, the first Lunar summit. Barack Obama has begged the world to invest in itself, and make this station viable population support to our bloated world. Dow is up 3000 points in a day, because investors are so confident that this will be the next sure thing.

But as he is finishing his speech, the room shakes, and all the sudden; mother fucking aliens.

I curse because, frankly, aliens are worse than monsters we make up. Monsters are mostly things that are human-ish. They play up some aspect of our own character. Aliens are the freakiest because they wouldn't necessarily have anything in common with us, we could only hope that they did. Anyways, getting back to it-

Aliens say blah blah blah, we're here on the moon because we knew there would be a shit-ton of your world's leadership. They either go "We're here to fuck shit up," or "Hey, we're cool, do this and we won't fuck shit up." Pretty much, it's one or the other.

How cool about this would Obama be? How many Independence Day jokes would he make?

The UN elects Obama to represent humanity in the negotiations. There are meetings, further summits, shows of strength, goodwill tactics.

We work with them. We assess their strengths, see what they have to offer, and determine their threat level, as well as our defensive options. Do we have the capacity to prevent them from doing anything? Do we have anything they want or need? Do we have a bargaining chip? Because I bet to shit they have some awesome power supply.

And all the sudden we're in business.

Like in every sprawling alien blockbuster, we would be united as humans, either against a common cause or greeting a new ally.

And I think we all know that Barack Obama would make a better leader in that situation.

The reason Hollywood types are against the McPalin abomination ticket, and for the ObamaNation nomination is that they know which movie you'd put each pair in. One would be about human incompetence and incontinence. The other would be about our potential, and maybe, the Audacity of Hope.

Look, I harbor no delusions that the scenarios I described were either fair or balanced. They where, however, culled via the narratives each campaign have presented. At the very core of their theses, the candidates put out two sentiments. McCain harps on the negative; on the dangers of inexperience, the threat of over-taxation, the prospects of imminent doom.

Obama takes a different stance. He paints a portrait of the world as it should be, of hope, of prosperity, of progress. All John McCain can do is point out the failings of man, while Barack reminds us of or potential.

This is not meant as a disrespect. McCain is merely a 20th century leader, and thus has only 20th century solutions. Aliens, globalization and world-flattening, and new energy are 21st century problems. We need an internet-savvy intellect with a grasp on what has caused the problems have plagued our past. We need a 21^st century leader, who has shown the ability to mobilize, communicate with, and lead this generation. There is no need to fear the problems of yesterday- we need to fear the problems of tomorrow.

That is the heart of the matter. Ultimately, this is a question about the future. It isn't so much about the problems we know how to face, it is about those unknowable problems we must steel ourselves for as we stare down the barrel of the 21st century, and how we determine America's role in it.

John McCain might have the previously established credentials to be President of the United States. But that is no longer good enough. You have to be President of the World. And that is a job that Barack Obama has prepared himself for.