Barack Obama has won Utah, Alaska, Idaho, North Dakota and Wyoming, which combined have fewer black residents than my living room. And yet, along the Mexican border -- Texas, California, Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada, Oklahoma (wait, let me check my atlas...close enough) -- he's gone down in defeat. Now, I find myself rooting for the border patrol. This animosity has really caught me off guard. I always thought of myself as "brown-friendly." I watched Selena. I buy the occasional off-ramp orange or stop-light bouquet, and if I owned a house, I'm sure I'd swing by the Home Depot parking lot every now and then to get a tree stump removed. But to think that all this time, I, as a black man, have been viewed with such contempt? It's almost enough to make me boycott Jose Luis Sin Censura. Almost. That whole fence thing isn't sounding so bad now. Can we make it electrified? If the Minutemen allowed coloreds, I'd seriously consider enlisting.
Somebody’s got to stop this flow before our chances of a black president become slimmer than...well, they were before Barack Obama. At the rate things are going, the only possibility of a black president after this year will be Chelsea Clinton with a deep tan. I guess it doesn’t have to be a race thing, though. Who knows, maybe Mexicans just love the Clintons.
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