Poor, Poor, Pitiful Michelle Obama
The most privileged woman in America isn’t too happy these days.
In case you missed it, Michelle Obama is depressed. Well, maybe not clinically depressed, but as The Daily Wire reports, she’s really bummed about Donald Trump’s America.
“I know that I am dealing with some form of low-grade depression,” she whined last week during Episode Two of her brand-new podcast. “Not just because of the quarantine but because of the racial strife. And just seeing this administration, watching the hypocrisy of it, day in and day out, is dispiriting.”
It’s hard to tell whether she’s in the throes of Trump Derangement Syndrome, but the former first lady was just getting warmed up. She went on to complain, “I have to say that waking up to the news, waking up to how this administration has or has not responded, waking up to yet another story of a black man or a black person somehow being dehumanized or hurt or killed, or falsely accused of something — it is exhausting. It has led to a weight that I haven’t felt in my life — in a while.”
Poor Michelle. Has any flesh-and-blood human ever gotten more universally favorable media coverage than her? Well, besides her husband? This was the woman, after all, whose last unscripted utterance was back in 2008, when she told an adoring crowd, “Let me tell you something. For the first time in my adult lifetime, I’m really proud of my country — and not just because Barack has done well but because I think people are hungry for change.”
Change, eh? Does anyone think she’d have been “really proud” of her country if the change Americans voted for in the Democrat primary was Hillary Clinton rather than Barack Obama? And the notion of not once in one’s adult lifetime having felt good about one’s country speaks to a bitterness and a resentfulness that’s hard to fathom.
Soon after she made those remarks, the handlers rushed in and thoroughly remade her. Less sneering and scowling and more smiles, along with plenty of flattering magazine covers. That was 2008. Then, just prior to the presidential election, The New York Times ran profiles of both Obama and Cindy McCain, the wife of Republican candidate John McCain. One of those profiles sounded like it was written by Michelle’s publicist. The other made it seem like Cindy kicked puppies when she wasn’t popping painkillers and lying about her trips to Africa.
Sadly, the media hasn’t cast a critical eye Michelle’s way ever since. But they’ve done plenty of hit pieces on Melania Trump.
The mask slipped again in 2017, however, at a marketing conference in Boston. There, Michelle attacked and demeaned women in much the same way that Joe Biden denigrated blacks when he declared, “If you have a problem figuring out whether you’re for me or Trump, then you ain’t black!”
Asked about the tens of millions of women who voted for Donald Trump in 2016, Obama said, “Any woman who voted against Hillary Clinton voted against their own voice. … We look at those two candidates, as women, and many of us said, ‘He’s better for me. His voice is more true to me.’ To me, that just says you don’t like your own voice. You just like the thing you’re told to like.”
Can you imagine if a Republican first lady had said something so dripping with condescension? If Melania Trump had suggested, for example, that when women voted overwhelmingly for Barack Obama and Joe Biden in 2008 instead of for John McCain and Sarah Palin, they did so because they just don’t like their own voice? That they just like the thing they’re told to like?
Michelle Obama is living proof, then, that neither fame nor fortune nor insufferably fawning media coverage can make certain people happy. Heck, most of us would be thrilled with any one out of those three. But there’s an air of entitlement surrounding her, and it’s been there since before she burst onto the scene in early 2007, when her husband announced his campaign for president.
One suspects that she didn’t get this attitude from her parents — he a pump operator with the city and she a stay-at-home mom — growing up on the South Side of Chicago. No, if we had to guess, we’d say those seeds of resentment were sown when she went east to attend Princeton. There, she majored in two fields plagued by academic intolerance and monocultural indoctrination — sociology and African American studies — and she wrote a thesis, “Princeton-Educated Blacks and the Black Community,” that laid out the ills of assimilation and the merits of black separatism. She wrote:
[The data] demonstate [sic] a strong relationship for the change in ideologies during the Pre-to-Prin period and the feeling that the situation of the Black lower class is hopeless, such that the more respondents became sep/plur, the more respondents felt hopeless; and the more respondents became int/assim, the less hopeless they felt., [sic] … My speculation for this finding is based on the possibility that a separationist is more likely to have a realistic impression of the plight of the Black lower class because of the likelihood that a separationist is more closely associated with the Black lower class than are integrationist [sic]. By actually working with the Black lower class or within their communities as a result of their ideologies, a separationist [sic] may better understand the desparation [sic] of their [sic] situation and feel more hopeless about a resolution as opposed to an integrationist who is ignorant to [sic] their plight.
If ever you wondered what an Ivy League education can do for one’s ability to write clearly, logically, and convincingly, now you know.
After Princeton, it was Harvard Law School, and further indoctrination. Then she returned to Chicago, where she took a job with a local law firm and met her future husband, and together they attended the wholesome-sounding Trinity United Church of Christ, where they were married, and where each week they took in the hate-filled sermons of the Reverend Jeremiah “G-d D—n America” Wright.
Come to think of it, it’s no wonder she’s depressed.
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