The Change I Need: 'Wassup My OBAMA!'

Barack Obama has a new website that asks you to: 'Share your vision for what America can be, where President-Elect Obama should lead this country. Where should we start together?' So I submitted a letter to the new pres. Here it is:

Dear President-Elect Barack Hussein Obama,

First off, congrats on the whole historic election thing and leading the fight against the stereotype that all black people are good dancers. It’s quite a milestone. Kudos to you and yours.



I also wanted to follow up with you on this whole change.gov website. I know you’re pretty new to the executive branch but since when did the federal government have a Department of Change? Who will you appoint Secretary of Change? Dick Change-y? Is the movie Changeling about your change babies across the world? These are very serious questions that must be answered.

But more importantly, I wanted to take the time to tell you what I need from you. You got my absentee vote, so naturally, you have to do as I say now. [That sounded kinda weird. I’m not trying to imply you’re my slave-president or anything…AWKWARD…I heart black people.]

As I was driving the streets of Philadelphia on your election day, rapper Jim Jones was on the radio recommending that in the spirit of hope and positivity, that post-your election/triumphanance, we (as in black people and the Filipino guy listening to the radio) stop using the N-word and instead replace it with Obama. That way, you’d go up to your homeboy and be like “wassup my Obama!” Jim Jones suggested a week; I am suggesting this forever…or at least until the emergence of some scandal involving donkeys, cocaine, and the big guy from the Goonies tarnishes your entire career. Given that type of nadir [holla! You’re not the only one with SAT vocab], ‘Obama’ might be on par with the n-word. But anyway…Make it happen el presidente! [That’s Spanish for the presidente.] Do it for all yo Obamas out there.

I also need your help on another crucial matter. Lately, I’ve been feeling very inadequate. Emails from friends now prominently feature in their signatures a smorgasbord of acronyms: MD, Esq, JD, PHD, MBA, MSW, MPP, MPH, ESP, PS3, HIV, ABC, BBD, mmhmmm. I now feel like the lazy, directionless, under-achiever that momma always warned me not to become.

Please help me President B-HO, help me one-up these elitist pricks I call friends. Knight me. That’s right, knight me. I realize that we’re not in England and you’re no Queen. But we live in a world of hope now where anything’s possible, and you’re practically the jesus of hope. If anybody could knight me, you could. I would be the first knight of the blog-table, Sir Boogie Brown I.

Class reunions would go so much better if I were knighted. “oh you’re working in the ER now? That’s great. I’m a knight. I vanquish dragons and protect the crown. Call me Sir.” As someone who spent most of his life trying to fit in and then saying “fuck it, I’m gonna outdo them all,” I’m sure you can understand my plight. Knight me, B-HO, knight me.

Best wishes,
Hope you’re well,
Sincerely yours,

Boogie Brown

P.S. Can’t you just make George W. your new puppy?