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Al-Qaida’s second in command releases new tape warning Obama against Bush policies

James Sturcke, The Guardian

[...]Al-Zawahiri [...] said in [a recent message], which appeared on militant websites, that Obama was “the direct opposite of honourable black Americans” like Malcolm X, the 1960s African-American rights leader.

The al-Qaida leader called Obama, along with the secretary of state Condoleeza Rice and her predecessor, Colin Powell, “house negroes”.

Speaking in Arabic, al-Zawahiri, an Egyptian, used the term “abeed al-beit,” which literally translates as “house slaves.” But English subtitles of his speech included in the message translate it as “house negroes.”

The message also included old footage of speeches by Malcolm X in which he explains the term, saying black slaves who worked in their white masters’ house were more servile than those who worked in the fields. Malcolm X used the term to criticise black leaders he accused of not standing up to whites. [more]

President Obama, (former?) drug addict and presently a smoker though he pretends he quit. This is the man America has its hopes on.

He wrote about himself:

Obama wrote on the subject in Dreams. Here’s an excerpt: “I blew a few smoke rings, remembering those years. Pot had helped, and booze; maybe a little blow when you could afford it. Not smack, though -- Mickey, my potential initiator, had been just a little too eager for me to go through with that. Said he could do it blind-folded, but he was shaking like a faulty engine when he said it. Maybe he was just cold; we were standing in a meat freezer in the back of the deli where he worked and it couldn’t have been more than 20 degrees in there. But he didn’t look like he was shaking from th ecold. Looked more like he was sweating, his face shiny and tight. He had pulled out the needle and the tubing, and I’d looked at him standing there, surrounded by big slabs of salami and roast beef, and right then an image popped into my head o fan air bubble, shiny and round like a pearly rolling quietly through a vein and stopping my heart….

“Junkie. Pothead. That’s where I’d been headed: the final, fatal role of the young would-be black man. Except the highs hadn’t been about that, me trying to prove what a down brother I was. Not by then, anyway. I got high for just the opposite effect, something that could push questions of who I was out of my mind, something that could flatten out the landscape of my heart, blur the edges of my memory.”