Because of my hair trigger temper and a fundamental lack of tact, simply canvassing for Barack Obama has proven to be the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life - outside of the time I clumsily thrusted my pelvis on top of a female body builder one alcohol fuelled night.(Not for nothing, but I now know what it feels like to fuck a stack of 2x4's) Despite the fact that the residents occupying my mental Mayberry of a town have been unbelievably perceptive to Obama's message of change and restoring the middle class, which is definitely a good thing, but the blissful ignorance and subtle racism I've also experienced definitely had tested my overall resolve. But because I support a unifying candidate who would probably look down on one of his canvassers slamming a registered voter's head into their own mailbox or shoving a McCain/Palin yard-sign up some garden variety racists ass - I've proceeded to grit my teeth and politely correct the record whenever some bottom-feeding Pat Buchanan fan implies that Obama is either a Muslim or that he will singlehandedly destroy Israel. Sometimes both. The unflappable demeanor that I've temporarily exhibited has absolutely fooled some of the older women who I've been canvassing with, many of them effortlessly offering up their innocent daughters to a reprehensible asshole like me - all because my winning smile and endless stream of Eddie Haskell-esque bullshit has them incorrectly thinking that I'm some sort of upstanding citizen who teaches Sunday School to underprivileged children in my spare time. Sometimes I wish that I could momentarily give these lovely sexagenarian's the same powers that Johnny Smith had in "The Dead Zone" and force them to momentarily touch my hand to get a glimpse of my tortured soul - the carnage, destruction, gratuitous violence, and miscellaneous women that I've made sweet love to in the back seat of my muscle car would have them running for the hills.
But when I get back home, take off the Obama pins and put away the campaign literature, all bets are off. Which means, basically, that I no longer feel tethered by the high mindedness of the candidate that I passionately support. Usually finding myself mercilessly chin checking some garden variety asshole who says anything remotely reprehensible about the junior senator from Illinois. I'm not talking some random person questioning Obama's economic package or his plan to end the war in Iraq, I'm talking about examples of overt racism and even assassination fantasies - actions that I believe deserve swift and abrupt metacarpal attention. I'm aware that this isn't exactly the image that the Obama campaign wants out there, and deep down I know better than to verify peoples "angry black male" stereotypes. But the luxury of being crazy is that I don't particularly give a shit. Besides, my humble opinion is that my random acts of violence actually save lives, because if I kept all that anger bottled up, anger brought on because of all the proverbial knuckle-draggers I find myself surrounded by - I'd probably go on a goddamn killing spree.
That being said, I'm huge fan of Lee Stranahan's brilliant video series "30 Days/30 Days: Why I'm Voting for Barack Obama" - where, as the title suggests, he gives daily reasons why he is voting for Obama up until November 4th. Definitely check it out, its dope. So, to take a page out of his book, I'm dedicating the next four days to 4 despicable motherfuckers I've punched in the face while defending Barack Obama. Enjoy.
Dispatched Asshole #4: Right after Barack Obama had sewn up the Democratic nomination, around the time he did his first unity rally with Hillary Clinton, I was at my favorite watering hole looking for low self esteem having women while rapidly ruining my liver. At the other end of the bar I overheard two men talking about Barack Obama. I couldn't really make out what they were saying, but I've been around enough drunk racists in my day to know that the vibe they were giving off didn't particularly inspire me to go over there and talk about the decline of "Real" Hip Hop. I did my best to ignore them, lord knows that I did, but when I heard one of them talk about Obama "not making it to election day" and how he wanted someone to "step up and take him out" I had heard enough. So I slowly walked over to the men and said, "Listen, I know that it is a free country and all, but publicly addressing assassination fantasies at a bar is even unseemly for you two backwards ass, "Deliverance" extras. Cut-it-out. Thank you." As I slowly walked back to my seat to reacquaint myself with my Guinness, the same guy that was talking all that shit said "Yeah know, I'm an excellent shot!". Shit, the next thing I know I'm clotheslining him out of his chair. As he laid on the ground choking from the clothesline, I kept screaming "What did I tell you!!" - as I stomped on him in such a fashion that curious onlookers probably assumed that I was making bigot flavored wine. His friend looked at me in extreme horror and said, "Hey man, he said all that racist shit - I'm voting for Obama!" Somehow I don't believe him, but it saved his ass from a beating though.