I've hung out with tons of blacks in my pro boxing career, my rap career, and my federal bid.  I love blacks -- their sense of humor and their warmth.  They've failed here, they've failed there.  So have I.  We are all human.  I applaud their successes.  I don't pretend that they're better or worse than they are.

But when Joe Biden with his near-albino pasty face stands there in Danville, Virginia in his cardboard suit and tells the audience that the Republicans are going to put them back in chains, I can't help but remonstrate for my black brothers that this putty-white senator has no right to speak up for the blacks and act like he is one of them.  What a patronizing old fool.  When are the African-Americans going to wake up and realize that the Democrats are talking down to them, that they are chasing after their votes?

Surprise, old man Joe Biden: you are not African-American.  You do not have a Southern drawl.  You can't rhyme.  You are unhip flop, not hip-hop.

Biden is so white that he makes me feel like I am African-American.  It's time he stopped pretending he had rhythm and jazz.  I personally wrote the lyrics for a jazz album, Magic Man, by Sam Wayman, Nina Simone's brother.  Maybe we'll do a remix with Biden playing the banjo.

I also did three rap albums -- The Renegade Jew, Da Masta Plan, and Life Styles.  I fought in the Rapper's Federation fights in Harlem.  I'd like to see doddering Biden put up a fight for something other than the destruction of the economy and for Obama's extension of a sophomoric liberal ideology.

Joe Biden, you are not a brother.  You're more like someone's old aunt.  And your president, Obama, belongs in GQ Magazine, not pretending he is one of the brothers in the streets.

I see Obama racing out to the golf course, pretending that he is a WASP at some exclusive private club.  Maybe when Biden referred to Republicans placing the blacks in chains, he really was giving a veiled reference to Obama riding through the links on his golf cart.