On the Fox Network coverage (smear) of Obama's "sinister minister's" racist rancor that raises remarkable racous responses on race relations in America.
Wrights comments are repeated in "heavy rotation" like a pop song, in Fox News' effort to make the sink in and enflame passions of voters. So we've responded for Rev. Wright!
Video mash up of Obama's sinister minister Jeremiaha Wright, with images of Obama, Hillary, Bush, Carville, Fox News, and other photos focused on American race relations and history, set to the song "I Love You C.C." by the funk band Parliament (1975).
LYRICS BY GEORGE CLINTON
Uh, what's happening CC?
They still call it the White House
But that's a temporary condition, too.
Can you dig it, CC?
To each his reach
And if I don't cop, it ain't mine to have
But I'll be reachin' for ya
'Cause I love ya, CC.
Right on.
There's a lot of chocolate cities, around
We've got Newark, we've got Gary
Somebody told me we got L.A.
And we're working on Atlanta
But you're the capital, CC
Gainin' on ya!
Get down
Gainin' on ya!
Movin' in and on ya
Gainin' on ya!
Can't you feel my breath, heh
Gainin' on ya!
All up around your neck, heh heh
Hey, CC!
They say your jivin' game, it can't be changed
But on the positive side,
You're my piece of the rock
And I love you, CC.
Can you dig it?
Hey, uh, we didn't get our forty acres and a mule
But we did get you, CC, heh, yeah
Gainin' on ya
Movin' in and around ya
God bless CC and its vanilla suburbs
Gainin' on ya!
Gainin' on ya!
Gainin' on ya! (heh!)
Gainin' on ya!
Gainin' on ya!
What's happening, blood?
Gainin' on ya!
Gainin' on ya!
Gainin' on ya!
Yeah!
What's happening, black?
Brother black, blood even
Yeah-ahh, just funnin'
Gettin' down
Ah, blood to blood
Ah, players to ladies
The last percentage count was eighty
You don't need the bullet when you got the ballot
Are you up for the downstroke, CC?
Chocolate city
Are you with me out there?
And when they come to march on ya
Tell 'em to make sure they got their James Brown pass
And don't be surprised if Ali is in the White House
Reverend Ike, Secretary of the Treasure
Richard Pryor, Minister of Education
Stevie Wonder, Secretary of FINE arts
And Miss Aretha Franklin, the First Lady
Are you out there, CC?
A chocolate city is no dream
It's my piece of the rock and I dig you, CC
God bless Chocolate City and its (gainin' on ya!) vanilla suburbs
Can y'all get to that?
Gainin' on ya!
Gainin' on ya!
Easin' in
Gainin' on ya!
In yo' stuff
Gainin' on ya!
Huh, can't get enough
Gainin' on ya!
Gainin' on ya!
Be mo' funk, be mo' funk
Gainin' on ya!
Can we funk you too
Gainin' on ya!
Right on, chocolate city!
Yeah, get deep
Real deep
Heh
Be mo' funk
Mmmph, heh
Get deep
Bad
Unh, heh
Just got New York, I'm told
The song's largely spoken vocals (delivered by George Clinton) express pride in "Chocolate Cities", that is, cities with a majority black population. The song also reflects on the solidarity of African-American society at the time. The singer playfully hypothesizes what it would be like if there was an African American in the White House, and assigns the following people to positions in government: * Muhammad Ali - President of the United States * Reverend Ike - Secretary of the Treasury * Richard Pryor - Minister of Education (fictional) * Stevie Wonder - Secretary of Fine Arts (fictional) * Aretha Franklin - First Lady
Among the cities listed as "Chocolate" cities: * Washington, D.C. * Newark, New Jersey * Gary, Indiana * Los Angeles, California * Atlanta, Georgia * New York City, New York
The song closes with phrase "God bless Chocolate City, and its Vanilla suburbs."
The Second Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
-William Butler Yeats, 1919
"Around election time, the candidates can't do enough for you. They'll promise you anything, give you a long list of proposals and even come around, with TV crews in tow, to throw back a shot and a beer"...
Hillary drinks like a woman who makes 15 million per year and has time to drink!
shockingtruths 3 years ago