Does seem really weird.

If Obama pardoned her and streamlined her route to “documentation” we would all be mad for a day and it would be all over.

I guess liberals don’t really care for people.

Wouldn’t you “pardon” the black sheep in your family just so people would stop talking?

excerpt from Dreams From My Father by Barack Obama 1994 pgs 86-87

And, too: If Malcolm’s discovery toward the end of his life, that some whites might live beside him as brothers in Islam, seemed to offer some hope of eventual reconciliation, that hope appeared in a distant future, in a far-off land. In the meantime, I looked to see where the people would come from who were willing to work toward this future and populate this new world. After a basketball game at the university gym one day, Ray and I happened to strike up a conversation with a tall, gaunt man named Malik who played with us now and again. Malik mentioned that he was a follower of the Nation of Islam but that since Malcolm had died and he had moved to Hawaii he no longer went to mosque or political meetings, although he still sought comfort
in solitary prayer. One of the guys sitting nearby must have overheard us, for he leaned over with a sagacious expression on his face.
“You all talking about Malcolm, huh? Malcolm tells it like it is, no doubt about it.”
“Yeah,” another guy said. “But I tell you what—you won’t see me moving to no African jungle anytime soon. Or some g**d*****d desert somewhere, sitting on a carpet with a bunch of Arabs. No sir. And you won’t see me stop eating no ribs.”
“And p*ssy, too. Don’t Malcom talk about no p*ssy? Now you know that ain’t gonna work.”
I noticed Ray laughing and looked at him sternly. “What are you laughing
at?” I said to him. “You’ve never read Malcolm. You don’t even know what he says.”
Ray grabbed the basketball out of my hand and headed for the opposite rim. “I don’t need no books to tell me how to be black,” he shouted over his head. I started to answer, then turned to Malik, expecting some words of support. But, the Muslim said nothing, his bony face set in a faraway smile.

I decided to keep my own counsel after that, learning to disguise my feverish mood.

Indeed! I only ask that she walk to the end of the pier. She can swim the rest of the way.

Dreams From My Father by Barack Obama (excerpts page 80-83)

White folks. The term itself was uncomfortable in my mouth at first;… Sometimes I would find myself talking to Ray about white folks this or white folks that,..and I would suddenly grow quiet, as if I had secrets to keep.
…It was obvious that certain whites could be exempted from general category of our distrust: …The term white was simply a shorthand for him,…
..”There are white folks, and then there are ignorant motherf***kers like you, ” I had finally told the coach before walking off the court that day)–Ray assured me that we would never talk about whites as whites in front of whites without knowing exactly what we were doing. Without knowing that there might be a price to pay.
But was that right? Was there still a price to pay? That was the complicated part, the thing that Ray and I never could seem to agree on. there were times when I would listen to him tell some blond girl he’d just met about life on L.A.’s mean streets, or hear him explain the scars of racism to some eager young teacher, and I could swear that just beneath the sober expression Ray was winking at me, letting me in on the score. Our rage at the white world needed no object, he seemed to be telling me, no independent confirmation; it could be switched on and off at our pleasure. Sometimes, after one of his performances, I would question his judgment, if not his sincerity. We weren’t living in the Jim Crow South, I would remind him. We weren’t consigned to some heatless housing project in Harlem or the Bronx. We were in g*dd*****d Hawaii. We said what we pleased, ate where we pleased; we sat at the front of the proverbial bus. None our white friends, guys like Jeff or Scott from the basketball team, treated us any differently than they treated each other. They loved us, and we loved them back. S**t,
seemed like half of ‘em wanted to be black themselves–or at least Doctor J.
Well, that’s true, Ray would admit.
(BO) Maybe we could afford to give the bad-a**ed
n*****pose a rest. Save
it for when we really needed it.
And Ray would shake his head. A pose, huh? Speak for your own self.
And I would know that Ray had flashed his trump card, …
As it was, I learned to slip back and forth between my black and white worlds…..Still, the feeling that something wasn’t quite right stayed with me, a warning that sounded whenever a white girl mentioned in the middle of conversation how much she like Stevie Wonder; or when a woman in the supermarket asked me if I played basketball; or when a school principal told me I was cool. …There was trick there somewhere, although what the trick was, who was doing the tricking, and who was being tricked, eluded my conscious grasp. …
One of the seniors, a stout defensive tackle named Kurt, was there, and he shouted loudly as soon as he saw us.
“Hey, Ray! Mah main man! Wha’s happenin’!”
Ray went up and slapped Kurt’s outstretched palm. But when Kurt repeated the gesture to me, I waved him off.
“What’s his problem?” I overheard Kurt say to Ray as I walked away. A few minutes later, Ray caught up with me and asked me what was wrong.
“Man, those folks are just making fun of us,” I said.
“All that `Yo baby, give me five’ bullsh*t.”
“So who’s mister sensitive all of a sudden? Kurt don’t mean nothing by it.”
“If that’s what you think, then hey—-”
Ray’s face suddenly glistened with anger. “Look,” he said, “I’, just getting along, all right?? Just like I see you getting along, talking your game with the teachers when you need them to do you a favor. All that stuff about ‘ Yes, miss Snooty B*tch, I just find this novel so engaging, if I can just have one more day for that paper, I’ll kiss your white a**’ It’s their world, all right? They own it, and we in it. So just get the f**k out outta my face.”

AND THEY THINK WHAT GLENN BECK SAID WAS BAD? Why won’t FOX media let Glenn Beck defend & explain why he had that feeling.
Obviously, someone in the WH does not understand that God made man equal. All are sinners. All fall short. Except, mr. perfect.

That’s through-out. His constant feeling of being talked about behind his back.

Which speaks volumes about his insecurity. Being talked about behind the back happens to everyone. It’ through our faith in our own ability as to how we deal with that. If we let others’ perceptions of us completely run our lives, we would never be able to function as it would result in exactly what your seeing with the boy-king. He gets angrier by the minute. He has no idea which lie to tell next. He is going to come completely unraveled and most likely become a bitter, vicious, screamer after his one failed term as president. His thin veneer of “control” and “poise” are peeling away. His frustration becomes more obvious every additional, unnecessary annoying moment that he appears before the public to sing that familiar tune, “It’s Bush’s Fault…Love Me, Not Him”

You hit the nail on the head, canary.

Obama wrote it angered him during his Kenya visit when ever his family members pointed out how lucky he was to live in America. He goes into feelings of blending in, and the freedom from not having to obsess & try and read minds of white people are saying about his hair behind his back. That’s through-out. His constant feeling of being talked about behind his back.

What’s an aunt visiting, compared to Obama’s rich & famous visitors, partys, beer summits, big football game bash, skate-boarder Tony Hawk, on Father’s day chipping the WH marble floors on his skate-board, eating breakfast.

She and other illegals are clogging up our court systems, robbing Americans of their constitutional rights for justice.

And it’s only going to get worse as Obama will give them amnesty to get their votes.

Imagine setting foot in a country that’s not yours but angry towards others that do. Obama even prejudged and sneered at white missionaries in Africa, when he just uses it as a vacation spot.

Also, he chewed his supposed half-brother Mark out so bad, when Mark said he didn’t not plan to come back after Sanford and live in Africa, Obama knew they wouldn’t stay in contact. Yet, did Obama go back and live in Africa?

Obama is King of deciding what everyone else should do, or being doing.

Obama was a lousy professor who taught his own way, what he wanted, yet he boasts of firing teachers that don’t measure up, across the America.

Really. Exactly what culture was Obama born into?

He was the son of a bank Vice President. He went to one of the best private schools in Hawaii.

Won big on the “She Can Walk” bet, too.

Going into court – wheelchair. Comin’ out – “I can walk! It’s a miracle! I can walk!”.

Need to sieze whatever assetts she might have from connin’ us and send her packin’; but it just ain’t gonna happen – she’s stayin’.

Just sayin’.

By his convoluted reasoning, wardmama4, he’s lived his life in a prison–the color of his own skin. Nothing will assuage the bitter irony of his own birth so he must act out his angst by showing contempt for his perceived tormentors.

He inadvertantly displays his self-loathing through his projection.

And isn’t Auntie Zeituni living on Welfare – thus she (illegally?!?) used taxpayer funds to ‘donate’ to her nephew?

I am an American citizen possibly facing a legal battle over an estate – do you think I am going to find a ‘public defender’ to help me to get what is legally mine?

This is just so clustered up – It should stop now.

Deport her – Yesterday

And then prove that her ‘nephew’ is even Constitutionally eligible to be POTUS – and if not – jail him – for life.

Dreams From My Father by Barack Obama 1994

I took the opportunity to study these tourists as Auma and I sat down for lunch in the outdoor cafe’ of the New Stanley Hotel. They were everywhere—
Germans, Japanese, British, Americans—-taking pictures, hailing taxis, fending off street peddlers, many of them dressed in safari suits like extras on a movie set. In Hawaii, when we were still kids, my friends and I had laughed at tourists like these, with their sunburns and the pale, skinny legs, basking in the glow of our obvious superiority. Here in Africa, though the tourists didn’t seem so funny. I felt them as an encroachment, somehow; I found their innocence vaguely insulting. It occurred to me that in their utter lack of self-consciousness, they were expressing a freedom that neither Auma nor I could ever experience, a bedrock confidence in their own parochialism, a confidence reserved for those born into imperial cultures.

It makes no sense that Obama does not let her stay in the WH with so many rooms.

She could teach his daughters the Lou language, which Obama can’t speak. This is a chance for his girls to learn their roots, when Obama himself was so obsessed
with his he grew up wanting to go back & give to Africa.

Good one!

Tigellinus – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tigellinus

The Original Donald
Justice Alito was right(THAT’S NOT TRUE!!!!!!)