"These are forgeries in the mold of the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, and they're blatantly racist, perpetuating sexual stereotypes about black men in an attempt to stoke racial anxieties toward a man who could become the nation's first black president." Senior advisor David Pouffe said today.
Among the material posted on the Dredge Report this morning was an explicit account of a sexual encounter between a young Obama and a fellow student at Columbia University:
As our heaving forms labored to produce the kinetic energy of two opposites interacting, two counterpoints alternately coming together and apart as if unsure of their relation to one another, simultaneously at war and in congress, the tempo increasing and our sexual pleasure quickening, she suddenly called out:
"Yes! Faster! Harder! More! More!"
It was then that it struck me. It would always be thus; this expectation of more, this taking for granted of subservience, arising in habit ingrained by generations of the casual indulgence of privileged status. I would forever be driven forward, compelled on, faster, harder... More, black man. More.
I looked at Demarcus, across the pale expanse of privileged skin separating us. Our eyes met in silent, weary understanding. Now it was as if the gentle rocking of our heads was no longer merely the result of our exertions, but mutual nodding in grim assent to the harrowing recognition of a reality too evident, too total, too painful and humiliating to speak aloud, in the silent communication of a profound pain that began in the holds of the slave ships. No matter how hard we worked to "fit in", no matter what we did or how well we did it, we would never find respite. Even here with two of us in harness, it simply would not do. For some the bar would always be set a little higher; from some a little more would be demanded. This compulsion would always be there, driving us on in the silent company of the many enslaved and oppressed to come before, this expectation that we were to spend ourselves in subjugation and service.
In my mind's eye I saw them, legions of nameless black men, bending over their work in the field, being driven beneath the lash. Here I was now bent over this work, driven, still, beneath this lash. Only now the actual whip was no longer required, the promise of violence so long established that it needed no overt threat. So deeply instilled was the system of privilege that it determined every interaction between the races. Now the whiplash came in the insensitive, blithely ignorant comment, in the nervous look, in the discretely tightened grip on the purse, in the drawing of the child closer, in the taxi cab speeding past and in the callous enthusiasm demanding more. Faster. Harder. More.
I would always be expected to "satisfy", to perform a task on someone else's behalf, to be an object of amusement, even here a mere sexual beast of burden...
Citing an "anonymous source still working for the book's publisher", the website alleges the passage from which the above excerpt was taken was cut before going to press due not to its subject matter but a need to trim the first-time author's manuscript by an additional ten thousand words. Senator Obama's campaign was unavailable for comment.