Final Chicago Dispatch: I Don't Want To Be A Hater No More

Start building the basketball court. And make sure it has glass backboards and breakaway rims. While you’re at it, paint the White House black…at least half of it. If you’re reading this George Clinton – you predicted it a long time ago homeboy. Chocolate City baby.


Last night in Chicago was surreal. Obama is so popular that I nearly forgot how he slipped into national politics by romping Alan Keyes in a virtually uncontested Senate race. There was zero violence, unconditional love, and peaceful pandemonium. I accidentally stepped on some dude’s Jordans and he shook my hand.  


We showed up at 7:00 – right after seeing on television that security was allowing people into Grant Park. Folks with official tickets – who ultimately got to see Obama’s speech up close – had to wait outside until 8:30. Stragglers, however, were allowed to watch returns on a JumboTron in an adjoining field from 5:00 on. It was socialism times ten.


My friend and I smacked six tequila shots apiece beforehand. We were under the impression that booze and bags were forbidden, but it wound up being the most lenient security check that I’ve ever passed through. We could have brought a keg.


On the way in I bought Barackas. You might not know about these yet, but they’re soon to be a fixture in all decent American households. Just imagine maracas with Obama’s mug on them. I know – awesome.  


The giant screens played CNN coverage, and we screamed loudly every time they put the crowd on air. Nobody cared about what percentage of the counts were in; if Obama had more votes in a particular territory we cheered, and when they mentioned red states we booed dramatically.


Blunts got lit as soon as John McCain dropped that pitiful concession speech, which was received with much scorn around Grant Park. I passed my spliff back and forth with a gang of dudes who were standing on a row of porta potties. One guy had a sticker on his face.


I wish that I could one day tell my grandchildren that I heard Obama’s words with feedback, and that I was in Chicago on the night that the Republican Party burned to the ground. But when he grabbed that mic I blew such a fat load that I may no longer be capable of procreating. I wasn’t the only one – we were all knee-deep in emotional jizz.


For the speech, I climbed a tree for the first time since grade school. This might change now that weed is decriminalized in Massachusetts and I’ll be smoking all day, every day, no matter how many children are around, but I doubt that I’ll ever forget looking out at the joyous sea of weeping faces.


In the middle of it all, I lost my friend Matt for about an hour. Cell phone lines were so jammed that we couldn’t reach one another, but I was far from alone. I must have wrapped my arms around 100 people last night. 


Barack Obama won’t just be the “Hip-Hop President” because he’s half black, or because he occasionally hangs with Ludacris. He earned that title by conducting his political career in a similar fashion to rap artists who quickly capitalize on their popularity.


Obama first hit the national scene four years ago, and, instead of lounging in the Senate for a few decades, he pushed his buzz to the highest levels imaginable. He deserves the love that we all showed him.


It’s about time we have a president who has illegal relatives who live in public housing. My general rule is to never trust anyone who wears a suit and tie, but I have faith in this guy. No doubt he’ll prove me stupid as soon as he arrives in office, but it’s a tremendous feeling for the time being.


A lot of pundits have calculated reasons for why John McCain got humiliated last night. But I think it was because he had Joe Lieberman behind him on the stump for the past two weeks. Is it really possible that none of his handlers are aware that no one likes that asshole?


It’s nice to no longer have to imagine what horror might have fallen on Grant Park if Obama lost. Or what the country would have devolved into. I came here as a skeptic who expected a riot, and I’ll graciously eat my predictions.


Love him or loathe him, you must admit that there’s a good chance Barack Obama will be the best president since Bill Clinton. I wish him luck, as this country needs competent and righteous leadership right now more than ever.


That said; as happy as I am about my decriminalized stash and sweet new president, I still want to extend two middle fingers to the conservative bloggers and other assorted scumbags who had ugly words for my coverage out here. Did you really think I would apologize for trashing Mormons? Fuck every last one of them beginning with Mitt Romney.


The same goes to that repugnant anti-homo Jesus whore Kris Mineau. Don’t get any ideas from Proposition 8 – you can try banning gay marriage in Massachusetts every couple years for all I care; we’ll kick you in the teeth every single time.


See you back in Boston. I'll be the guy shaking my Barackas up and down Boylston Street.


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