Oh, for Christ's sake:
. . I have a pint sized Obamaphile — or should that be Obama-bhakta (bhakta in Sanskrit means devotee) in deference to her Indian roots? — in the household. These days, he is included in J’s morning prayers, which is an honor normally reserved for things and people closest to her heart. She has been following his fortunes in the primaries for a while now and has managed to suck me into it as well.
Obamaphilia is quite contagious as it turns out. Thanks to my daughter, I keep an eye on CNN for the latest on Obama because J’s need for information on him is insatiable. . . .
I asked her a few days ago if the timing of the debate coincided with the weekend of her play date which one she would pick. “The debate of course,” she replied. “Why?” I asked incredulously. “Because it is so interesting. Play dates are all the same,” she explained like it should have been self-evident to me.
And it is not only debates she likes. She has had me dig up old Obama speeches from YouTube. The man just has to talk and J is all mesmerized. She sits transfixed and watches him like she were in a hypnotic trance. . . .
Suffer the children when Muslims' primitive superstitious taboos against personal hygiene are putting English children's lives at risk from iatrogenic infections in a Liverpool hospital.
P.S. Does Obama use toilet paper or his bare left hand?
Gee, I don't know Pastorius, the little critter slapped Obama's face twice with far more gusto than the singular half hearted smooch (and momma didn't appear to notice - heh.)
Obama doesn't have to wipe his ass. His bowel movements are immaculate conceptions.
I noticed that too, but I didn't want to mention it. I think this woman is confusing her own deprived libido with her child's brain.
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