We all scream for ice cream

Ice cream. It is a universally beloved dessert treat. A welcome antidote to the stifling summer. Whether enconed or in a dish, smothered in toppings or left tastefully bare, ice cream has delighted Americans of all ages, races, and creeds since the founding of this great nation. Ice cream is as American as apple pie (upon which it is often served) and baseball (to which freshly scooped spheres of it bear a strikingly close resemblance). Surely nothing typifies the American dream better than a married couple taking their children to partake in the sweet frozen ambrosia served at their local ice creamery. Gentle reader, you may now be asking yourself why your faithful writer has chosen this, his controversial sports/politics blog, as the place to broach a subject as seemingly innocent as ice cream. Is it not always best to shield our venerated icons of Americana from the befouling taint of partisan politics? In a bygone day, in a simpler time, I would have agreed. But alas, that was before my world changed. That was before I got wind of ICE CREAM GATE, the gate to end all gates. Never before has a sitting American president so perverted the meaning of something we all hold dear.

Know, gentle reader, that I did not seek out this scandal. I merely report, the decision is up to you. The facts remain; this weekend Barack Obama went to an ice cream shop in Maine, the ice cream shop's logo features a black fist clenching a black spoon, Obama himself is black, Obama ordered a vanilla waffle cone. In this case there is but one decision that any clear-thinking patriot could make: our beloved fatherland is soon to be under unrelenting attack by Marxist black supremacist forces. The symbolism in Obama's brazen act is obvious. The vanilla represents hardworking white Christian taxpayers, and Obama is devouring their creamy goodness.


Vanilla ice cream in a graham cracka baby cone