Posted on 06/22/2009 8:32:26 AM PDT by jazminerose
On his first Father’s Day in the White House, Barack Obama exalted the role of surrogate dads:
“We also honor those surrogate fathers who raise, mentor, or care for someone else’s child. Thousands of young children benefit from the influence of great men, and we salute their willingness to give and continue giving.”
Ann Dunham married Barack Obama’s father, the focus of his “autobiography.” Barack Senior abandoned the family before the child was two years old. Dad was not exactly father of the year. He is described as a “drunk and a bigot,” who was a cruel man, prone to drunken rages. (dailymail.co.uk).
Time reporter Amanda Ripley says Ann filed for divorce from Barack Senior in 1964, citing “grievous mental suffering” as the grounds. That may have been the standard grounds for divorce in those days.
But Barack Senior’s third wife, Ruth, claimed he beat her brutally in drunken rages. Sharon Churcher describes Barack Senior as an abusive bigamist and womanizer. Obama blames “racism” on both sides for the demise of his parents’ marriage.
(Excerpt) Read more at canadafreepress.com ...
So: Frank Marshall Davis-whom Obama met once or twice at the age of 10-was Obama’s “father figure”.
Wow. Who woulda thunk it ?
Geez, the Obamanator’s history and dysfunctional family makes Clinton’s look like the Brady bunch. WHY do we elect people to the highest office in the World and not expect them to be raised in a somewhat functional way? And going to Harvard doesn’t do it!
I didn’t vote for him.
Neither did I but it seems as if, with everything else, the majority of the American people have been dumbed down so much that they feel these dysfunctioning individuals are “qualified” to run the country...sad...
When is Obama going to leave?
That's better.
It was MUCH more than "once or twice". From "Dreams From My Father", (page 45):
Gramps had a number of black male friends, mostly poker and bridge partners, and before I got old enough not to care about hurting his feelings, I would let him drag me along to some of their games. They were old, neatly dressed men with hoarse voices and clothes that smelled of cigars, the kind of men for whom everything has its place and who figure they’ve seen enough not to have to waste a lot of time talking about it. Whenever they saw me they would give me a jovial slap on the back and ask how my mother was doing; but once it was time to play, they wouldn’t say another word except to complain to their partner about a bid.Then later, on page 52, after the incident where his grandmom got scared by a black panhandler, where does he go? To Frank's house. Obama mentions him a number of other places in the book.There was one exception, a poet named Frank who lived in a dilapidated house in a run-down section of Waikiki. He had enjoyed some modest notoriety once, was a contemporary of Richard Wright and Langston Hughes during his years in Chicago-Gramps once showed me some of his work anthologized in a book of black poetry. But by the time I met Frank he must have been pushing eighty, with a big, dewlapped face and an ill-kempt gray Afro that made him look like an old, shaggy-maned lion. He would read us his poetry whenever we stopped by his house, sharing whiskey with Gramps out of an emptied jelly jar. As the night wore on, the two of them would solicit my help in composing dirty limericks. Eventually, the conversation would turn to laments about women. “They’ll drive you to drink, boy,” Frank would tell me soberly. “And if you let ’em, they’ll drive you into your grave.”
I was intrigued by old Frank, with his books and whiskey breath and the hint of hard-earned knowledge behind the hooded eyes. The visits to his house always left me feeling vaguely uncomfortable, though, as if I were witnessing some complicated, unspoken transaction between the two men, a transaction I couldn’t fully understand. The same thing I felt whenever Gramps took me downtown to one of his favorite bars, in Honolulu’s red-light district
Sounds like a long-term relationship starting in his childhood, where he considered Frank a trusted mentor on the subject of how to be black.
I don't think Davis was his father. I believe Zero's real name should be Malcolm XI...
oh lord, here he goes stirring this pot again..
Google Frank Marshall and get some pics and compare them to
Obama Jr. Almost spitting image. Same eyes too. Look at some pics of Obama Sr. , Looks nothing like Jr.
the story goes that Frank is the real baby daddy.
.
Frank Marshall Davis, documented Communist and admitted bi/pedophile per his auto/bio book, ‘Sex Rebel’was little Barry’s mentor from age 9 until he went away to college.
Barry speaks fondly of him in his books and wrote a suggest poem about him. This mentor was specially chosen for Barry by his loving grandfather, Stanley Dunham.
.
I think the very same thing when I compare photos of Zero and Malcolm X -- that's why I call him Malcolm XI.
Of course, it's all academic without his actual birth certificate...
I was intrigued by old Frank, with his books and whiskey breath and the hint of hard-earned knowledge behind the hooded eyes. The visits to his house always left me feeling vaguely uncomfortable, though, as if I were witnessing some complicated, unspoken transaction between the two men...
B I N G O !!!!
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