Give a Nigger a Job!

One of my favorite places to go when I'm home in the hollow is the Pequea Boat Club, of which I am a proud card-carrying member. There's nothing better than going in there and seeing people I've known since I was a baby. Before and after Dad died I was spending a lot of time there with Kathi - it was a way for us to be together and not be at the house.

I've been thinking lately about how difficult it might be going home and working for the Obama campaign. I feel like I should, but standing in the Musser's parking lot at the Buck, trying to get some of those old crusty types to register to vote does not sound like fun; it sounds like unnecessary torture.

I know a bit about racism. I grew up with the nigger jabs and talk of driving down Queen street with a gun. I don't know how I shook the beast myself but I am pretty sure that it is gone and its certainly not going to bother my vote in November. That doesn't mean I know how to talk openly with someone who I am pretty damn sure is afraid of or angry at blacks and is either adamant or squirming into some other excuse for ignorance like saying Obama is a muslim or he's inexperienced or some such.

Here's a nice discussion over at Pandagon.

So in thinking about all of this, I've come up with a strategy. The next time I go to the Pequea Boat Club, I'm going to wear a shirt that should convince a lot of people that they can use November to solve a problem they've been bitching about for decades, even while they're sitting on their bar stool spending their wife's last dime.

Give a nigger a job! Obama 08.