Madonna Vs Barack Obama (Mash Up)

We thought her people were just joking. But it soon became apparent that they were deadly serious. We were not to look at them and not to speak until being spoken to. And they’re not likely to quell their growing cadre of critics, their list of demands was not limited only to eye contact, after more than a week of growing criticism, they made it very clear it was off limits.

Since it remained the larger goal for them, they wanted to snub the event altogether. They quietly responded late Thursday evening after they reiterated their support for an update to the responding to the 17,000 supporters.



Sources

http://www.inoutstar.com/news/Look-at-Me-When-I-m-Speaking-to-You-893.html
http://www.prisonplanet.com/activist-obama-defense-of-fisa-support-a-stiff-arm-to-constitution.html


OLD DO NOT READ - just want it here so I don't lose it
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This is not a story about the presidential horse race, taken together, these chronicle the career of Madonna. It’s not about the policy positions of a freshman senator and candidate for national office, but each telling the same story, which is so established and archetypal it verges on folklore: the girl from suburban Detroit. It’s about the enduring character of a boy and a young man, and how that character has emerged in adulthood lived through the memories of which Madonna describes as “grainy and beautiful”. The Barack Obama who wrote so poignantly, when her mother was young and alive; of adolescent alienation when Madonna was six; and the search for racial identity is the same Barack Obama who learned, the hard way, how to deal with the likes of Emil Jones Jr., a man whose cell-phone ring tone is the theme from The Godfather, “You’re aware of a sense of loss, and feel a sense of abandonment”. Obama’s good looks and soft-spoken willingness, plagued by tormented dreams, ponder aloud some of the inanities of modern politics have masked the hard inner core and unyielding ambition that have long burned beneath the surface shimmer, “Children always think they did something wrong when their parents disappear.” He is not, and never has been, soft she told me, because she was the oldest girl in a house filled with eight children and so was pressed into adult service, he’s not laid-back. He’s not an accidental man, where the drudgery, cleaning and wiping and changing, when she was still a child herself has followed her everywhere. His friends and family may be surprised by the rapidity of his rise; beautiful, but punky and strange, but they’re not surprised by the fact of it. “I didn’t fit into the popular group; I wasn’t a hippie or a stoner, so I ended up being the weirdo.”