Reflections From a Murky Pond

Geraldine Ferraro, former Congresswoman, former Vice Presidential candidate, and former US ambassador to the UN Committee on Human Rights is a well known feminist. She’s also a somewhat less well known racist.

Given the media coverage of Ferraro’s recent racist gaffe, I assume most of the Free World is familiar with her comment:

If Obama was a white man, he would not be in this position, and if he was a woman (of any color) he would not be in this position. He happens to be very lucky to be who he is.

— Geraldine Ferraro
March, 2008

Taken strictly as a standalone comment, this might be taken as simply a poorly worded statement from a feminist who has difficulties in looking beyond gender issues, or the rantings of a Hillary Clinton supporter who isn’t dealing well with the sudden lack of Clinton’s “inevitability.” Sadly, this would be a mistake; Geraldine Ferraro’s racism has roots that are decades old.

Because of his “radical” views, if Jesse Jackson were not black, he wouldn’t be in the race.

— Geraldine Ferraro
April, 1988

Doesn’t the second statement by Ferraro sound eerily familiar? It seems that for at least 20 years Geraldine Ferraro has held and staunchly espoused the theory that Black politicians and political candidates are only viable because they are Black, not because of any skills they might have or their stance on the issues of the day.

Read the rest of this entry »

With the upcoming Beijing Olympic games one has to wonder was the springboard made in China?

An Irishman walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. After he finishes them, he walks back to the bar and orders three more.

The barmaid approaches and tells him, “You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it; it would taste better if you bought one at a time.”

The Irishman replies, “Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other in Australia, and I’m here in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised that we’d drink this way to remember the days when we drank together. So I drinks one for each o’ me brothers and one for me self.”

The barmaid admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there. The Irishman becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way: He orders three pints and drinks them in turn.

One day, he comes in and orders two pints. All the other regulars take notice and fall silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the barmaid says, “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your great loss.”

The Irishman looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns in his eye and he laughs. “Oh, no, everybody’s just fine,” He explains, “It’s just that me wife had us join that Baptist Church and I had to quit drinking. ‘Hasn’t affected me brothers a bit though.”