Of course, they can’t hide it all the time. Valerie slipped up in this video. I read on the internet that supposedly some wealthy unnamed people have hired some top notch private investigators to go after Jarrett and others with Communist ties that Odumbass in his administration. I think the clock is ticking and the pieces of the puzzle will soon complete the picture. He’s in trouble and he knows it.
As soon as Frank Marshall Davis got his divorce, that very year his no good Mom shipped him back to the US to live with Granny and pal around with Frank Marshall Davis. Why did she ship him back as soon as Frank got his divorce and his wife left?
Ready to RULE????? RULE????? FUBO and the camel you rode on on.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q7Nlq80DVpo
After fathering 5 children, Mr. Davis divorced his wife, Helen, in 1970. He never remarried and lived just across from the University of Hawaii:
"In June 1969, I began living in a section of Waikiki known as the Jungle. Surrounded by big, pretentious tourist trap hotels, this area consisted of one- and two-story studio cottages, small hotels, and old homes converted into rooming houses and apartments. My quarters were a little studio facing a narrow, one-way street. My tiny porch with three stone steps was only two feet from the sidewalk, thus permitting me to hold conversations with pedestrians-and occasionally motorists-on both sides of the thoroughfare.
My neighbors were young men and women mainly from the mainland between eighteen and twenty-five years old, here on vacation or to attend the University of Hawaii. For the most part, they were from California, with a few from as far away as Maine and Florida. In addition there were others from South America, Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia, Canada, the Caribbean, Samoa, Tonga, and the other islands of the South Pacific. Hippies were still numerous, but the majority I thought of as members of the Now Generation. My relationships and experiences were so interesting and fantastic I detailed them, along with my three trips to the mainland in 1973 and 1974 to read my poetry, in a separate tome entitled "That Incredible Waikiki Jungle."
What immediately impressed me about these young Americans, by far the numerical majority and most of them meeting for the first time in Hawaii, was their warm camaraderie and my ability to communicate on their own terms with no hint of a generation gap. Virtually all the young brothers consorted with ofay chicks (at least 80 percent of them longhaired blondes), and the sisters were affiliated with white boys. Occasionally a brother, a honky lad, and two white girls rented quarters together. Young blacks in bountiful Afros and wearing dashikis crashed in pads rented by ofays they never knew before; occasionally I permitted young white girls to sleep overnight on my floor. I saw no signs of racial hangups; these were all members of the Now Generation associating with whom they liked and color be damned.
(Davis, Livin' the Blues, pp. 327-328).
On page 323 Davis continues:
Hawaii is not for those who can be happy only in Soul City. This is no place for those who can identify only with Afro-America. "Little Harlem" is only a couple of blocks of bars, barbershops, and a soul food restaurant or two. When I arrived, the local establishment was trying to shunt black servicemen, gamblers, pimps, dope peddlers, and prostitutes into this area....
Because Smith Street was the closest Hawaii had to a black ghetto, it became a focus of work for the Communist Party in Hawaii. When attempting to lead a hostile CPUSA takeover of the NAACP in the late 1940s, Davis pointed to Smith Street as an example of segregation in Hawaii. And just as Davis described joining the CPUSA in "Sex Rebel: Black", he also described interracial group sex and voyeurism in the back room of a Smith Street bar he called the "Green Goose". (p278-80)
Obama describes Davis as playing a very intimate role in his life from age 9 to 18. When Barack returned to Honolulu from Indonesia in 1970, grandpa almost immediately took Barack to meet Davis. Davis was to serve as a father figure to the young Obama for much of his youth and adolescence. In light of the Communists' bizarre focus on Smith Street, Obama's description of meeting Davis for the first time at age 9 or 10 in 1970 or 1971 takes on new meaning:
...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 conservation 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 the 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....
Then Obama immediately segues into a description of Smith Street:
....The same thing I felt whenever Gramps took me downtown to one of his favorite bars, in Honolulu's red light district.
"Don't tell your grandmother," he would say with a wink, and we'd walk past hard-faced, soft-bodied streetwalkers into a small, dark bar with a jukebox and a couple of pool tables. Nobody seemed to mind that Gramps was the only white man in the place, or that I was the only eleven- or twelve-year-old. Some of the men leaning across the bar would wave at us, and the bartender, a big, light-skinned woman with bare, fleshy arms, would bring a Scotch for gramps and a Coke for me. If nobody else was playing at the tables, Gramps would spot me a few balls and teach me the game, but usually I would sit at the bar, my legs dangling from the high stool, blowing bubbles into my drink and looking at the pornographic art on the walls-the phosphorescent women on animal skins, the Disney characters in compromising positions....
...Our presence there felt forced, and by the time I had reached junior high school I had learned to beg off from Gramps's invitations, knowing that whatever it was I was after, whatever it was that I needed, would have to come from some other source.
In essence, when the young Obama returned from Indonesia, Gramps set about teaching him the CPUSA version of what it meant to be black. That is why Obama was introduced to Davis and that is why gramps took him to Smith Street until Obama finally stopped accepting the initiations.
This also explains Gramps' reaction when Madelyn Dunham is hassled by a black panhandler while waiting for a bus. Instead of agreeing to give his wife a ride to work, Gramps is consumed by the fear that Madelyn, (or Toot, as Obama calls her) is a racist. Gramps reports this to Obama who then goes to talk to Davis in an effort to sort it all out. (Dreams p 87-91) For Obama, the incident was so shattering that he found himself talking about it on the campaign stump several times in March, 2008 and calling his grandmother "a typical white person."
-------------
DON'T TELL YOUR GRANDMOTHER!
IMO Stanley Armour wanted to be seen and accepted as a radical and he probably prostituted/compromised his grandson in the process. Remember, Stanley Armour was there amongst the welcoming committee when Obama Sr arrived in Hawaii in 1959, almost a full year before Stanley Ann graduated, and her mother left the mainland to join her husband. Stanley Armour Dunham has a lot to answer for...but it's too late to point that out to him.