Dear President Obama,
I want you to know that you have my support.
It’s not an easy feat to get me up in the morning and on the road.
I see only a tiny bit of what you must face. The view is not pretty.
I watched that reporter in the Rose Garden yesterday heckle you, while you announced a new policy that would help young immigrants have a chance to have an anxiety free moment in America while going to school and working hard at achieving their dreams.
You don’t know this, but it’s during times like these that I feel like I’m your big mama.
If I was there, I would be in the window shouting with a do rag on my head, “I know you better stop interrupting my Schmoopy! Somebody, get the hose. I think the garden is dry right over there where that idiot’s standing. Hose it down.”
But you don’t need my help Mr. President. In this latest, “In the Heat of the Night” moment, you did your best Sidney Poitier impression of Mr. Tibbs. I sat in my chair in North Carolina wondering, let’s be fair Mr. Reporter. You’re heckling President Barack Obama about jobs? You are right to ask, but where was your outrage when Wisconsin re-elected Scott Walker? Scott Walker–a governor, unashamedly against labor is re-elected, but you’re over here, in the Rose Garden, indignantly and all but spitting on the ground with tobacco riddled bigotry because immigrant youth are being offered a chance to go to school and to work with dignity.