the heart of the matter

Coffee with my cousin Frances at the old chateau.
"The Americans will never elect Barak Obama," sez she conversationally. "They're much too racist to elect a black president."
I shook my head.
If you had been able to see us gentle travellers of the internet, you might have noticed something cautious in my demeanour.
I was being cautious because Frances spends her days staring down joyriders and street thugs as a teacher at one of Dublin's toughest schools.
I don't know what effect she has on the joyriders and street thugs but she sure scares the hell out of me.
"Er no," sez I choosing my words carefully. "The Americans are not racist. They've made a more serious attempt to bring the different races together than anyone else. They'd elect a black president in the morning if it was Condoleeza Rice or Colin Powell or Ralph Keyes. But they'll never elect a black Neville Chamberlain."
Frances favoured me with a keen stare.
"You really think that's the issue?" wondereth she.
"I do," sez I. "Barak should stand for election in some other country. Some country his wife isn't ashamed of."