When I was a kid, there was a boy in my elementary school who I won't name right now, though I remember him well. He was treated shamefully. He had a hairlip that had been surgically repaired but it didn't turn out that great. He was also from a low-income family, so he always wore hand-me-downs and looked kind of shabby. But there was nothing really wrong with him. But those two minor things made him almost an abomination. For no better reason than having poor parents and a scar on his lip, kids would routinely beat him up (at worst) and utterly avoid him (at best). It bothered me. Sadly, I didn't do anything about it. I didn't join in when he was picked on, but I did not one thing to deter it, either. 30+ years later it still bugs me sometimes. I have no idea what ever became of this kid, but after all the abuse he took, it would be a miracle if he ended up "OK" and not suicidal or in prison.
Then today, the Washington Post puts out an article about Obama's childhood. Think about this: Little Barry had one absentee psycho commie dad, another absentee psycho muzzie dad, a mother named Stanley, a gay tranny for a nanny, and the kids he grew up with him teased him about "being chubby and walking like a duck." That's one great big double-helping of dysfunction right there. And none if it was really his fault.
I felt a tinge of sympathy for Obama. Briefly. Very briefly. But I got over it and feel much better now.