1456. (Via the invaluable, freedom loving TPM) Back here, when we opined on some whiny white people who were crying because they didn't get to call black people what they wanted to call black people (hint: it's brought to you by the letter N and the history of slavery in America).
I thought it would be a one-off. I, you see, penny-ante lumpenprole philosopher that I am, figured I'd get my irritation off in the comparative (well, net-wise anyway) obscurity of this, The Most Underrated Blog on the Intermets. Then it would be done, done, done.
Boy, was I wrong.
Maybe it's something in the air or the water (quite conceivable, given the Federal government's concern for the environment) but, all of a sudden, up pops ...
Watch as Lou Dobbs work up to a near-blood-vessel-bursting apoplexy over the suggestion by one Arroz de Condoleeza that maybe we still have some American-style trouble with the race-thingy:
Note the self-edit after the word "cotton". Priceless!
Lou! Calm down! Dude! Chill that thing down! That aneyurism! She's gonna blow!!! (Speaking of aneyurism, I'm evaluating one after realizing that me and Condi agree on something)
Now, breathe deeply, Lou ... close eyes ... happy place, yes, happy place ... and repeat the following liberating mantra: It's not about me, it's not about me, it's not about me ...
(We hasten to point out that the self-checking of the term cotton pickin', while righteously hilarious, isn't the point. The point is this bizarre tendency of my fellow off-white man to get huffy and pouty and whingey whenever they think they're being scolded by people of other color and condescended to about 'how to discuss race'. While being incredibly funny, it's also incredibly stupid, and just kind of needs to stop. Just pointing this out).
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