Doddering Biden in Virginia

I've hung out with tons of blacks in my pro boxing career, my rap career, and my federal bid.  I love blacks -- their sense of humor and their warmth.  They've failed here, they've failed there.  So have I.  We are all human.  I applaud their successes.  I don't pretend that they're better or worse than they are.

But when Joe Biden with his near-albino pasty face stands there in Danville, Virginia in his cardboard suit and tells the audience that the Republicans are going to put them back in chains, I can't help but remonstrate for my black brothers that this putty-white senator has no right to speak up for the blacks and act like he is one of them.  What a patronizing old fool.  When are the African-Americans going to wake up and realize that the Democrats are talking down to them, that they are chasing after their votes?

Surprise, old man Joe Biden: you are not African-American.  You do not have a Southern drawl.  You can't rhyme.  You are unhip flop, not hip-hop.

Biden is so white that he makes me feel like I am African-American.  It's time he stopped pretending he had rhythm and jazz.  I personally wrote the lyrics for a jazz album, Magic Man, by Sam Wayman, Nina Simone's brother.  Maybe we'll do a remix with Biden playing the banjo.

I also did three rap albums -- The Renegade Jew, Da Masta Plan, and Life Styles.  I fought in the Rapper's Federation fights in Harlem.  I'd like to see doddering Biden put up a fight for something other than the destruction of the economy and for Obama's extension of a sophomoric liberal ideology.

Joe Biden, you are not a brother.  You're more like someone's old aunt.  And your president, Obama, belongs in GQ Magazine, not pretending he is one of the brothers in the streets.

I see Obama racing out to the golf course, pretending that he is a WASP at some exclusive private club.  Maybe when Biden referred to Republicans placing the blacks in chains, he really was giving a veiled reference to Obama riding through the links on his golf cart.

I've hung out with tons of blacks in my pro boxing career, my rap career, and my federal bid.  I love blacks -- their sense of humor and their warmth.  They've failed here, they've failed there.  So have I.  We are all human.  I applaud their successes.  I don't pretend that they're better or worse than they are.

But when Joe Biden with his near-albino pasty face stands there in Danville, Virginia in his cardboard suit and tells the audience that the Republicans are going to put them back in chains, I can't help but remonstrate for my black brothers that this putty-white senator has no right to speak up for the blacks and act like he is one of them.  What a patronizing old fool.  When are the African-Americans going to wake up and realize that the Democrats are talking down to them, that they are chasing after their votes?

Surprise, old man Joe Biden: you are not African-American.  You do not have a Southern drawl.  You can't rhyme.  You are unhip flop, not hip-hop.

Biden is so white that he makes me feel like I am African-American.  It's time he stopped pretending he had rhythm and jazz.  I personally wrote the lyrics for a jazz album, Magic Man, by Sam Wayman, Nina Simone's brother.  Maybe we'll do a remix with Biden playing the banjo.

I also did three rap albums -- The Renegade Jew, Da Masta Plan, and Life Styles.  I fought in the Rapper's Federation fights in Harlem.  I'd like to see doddering Biden put up a fight for something other than the destruction of the economy and for Obama's extension of a sophomoric liberal ideology.

Joe Biden, you are not a brother.  You're more like someone's old aunt.  And your president, Obama, belongs in GQ Magazine, not pretending he is one of the brothers in the streets.

I see Obama racing out to the golf course, pretending that he is a WASP at some exclusive private club.  Maybe when Biden referred to Republicans placing the blacks in chains, he really was giving a veiled reference to Obama riding through the links on his golf cart.

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