Imagine moving from Israel to Manhattan with a dream to be a fashion designer. Then imagine changing your name from Doron Braunshtein to Apollo Braun and getting this amazing idea to create t-shirts with anti-Obama slogans. For example, Jews Against Obama, I Hate Obama, oh...and OBAMA IS MY SLAVE. Now imagine some young white American grad student strolling into your boutique with daddy's credit card and buying one of your t-shirts for 70 bucks because, hey, she just thinks it's cool. Now imagine this friendly student walking through the heavily populated, ethnically-mixed Union Square Park in NYC [across from the Whole Foods and the Virgin Record Store] wearing your unbelievably hot-ass OBAMA IS MY SLAVE t-shirt. You can imagine that, right? The setting sun illuminating the big bold letters, the warm breeze tossing its new scent through the air. Oh, what a moment. This student is the hottest trend-setter since Twiggy twigged.
Now imagine four teenage girls, black girls, from Bed-Stuy, or Chelsea, Obama-loving black girls, and imagine them cursing her butt to Kingdom Come, spitting in her face, yanking out her i-pod earplugs because who in the blazing hell would wear an Obama Is My Slave T-shirt and expect to live spit-free?
Now imagine getting the call from the girl's attorney who's claiming the girl is suing you. Why? She was attacked by a mob of angry, fire-breathing, afro-wearing, oozie-carrying, gum-smacking, Obama-loving black girls who did everything in their power not to COMPLETELY whoop that ass for having the audacity to wear an OBAMA IS MY SLAVE t-shirt like it was a pair of new Sketchers. That's why.
Now imagine every media entity blowing up your phone asking why, what, what the *uck? And you cheerily say "when most people see Obama they see a slave and people aren't ready for a black president." Besides, you're Israeli and Obama's Muslim and well, he reminds you too much of Hitler, and that just conjures up all kind of venomous hate.
Now imagine a blogger from TheRoot hearing about this from a friend recently returned from Tanzania and thinking none of this could be true, but then being told, YES, it's indeed true. It happened at 8:30 pm on Tuesday. And then imagine this blogger thinking if he wasn't late for a birthday gathering at the Maritime Hotel in the Meat Packing District he would walk over to Apollo Braun's boutique and finish up where the four sister-girls left off. Figuratively speaking, of course, but you know what I'm saying. Right?