Even though my oldest son is black, thank God I was not born black.
I don’t take orders well.
And my imitation of a robot stinks.
Having been spared the trouble of reasoning through a subject, 99 percent of blacks in America walk in dull, thudding lockstep with left-wing Dumbocrats.
They better. Or they will be singled out and horsewhipped in front of everyone.
Take my newest best friend Juan Williams.
Your ears probably are still ringing from the thundering stampede of black community organizers, black politicians, black prestidigitators, black cabbies, black teachers, black garbage men, black window washers — you know, the whole gang from the midddddddle class, from those heroic, invisible “working” families, as left-wingers like to say — who poured into the streets of hometowns across America.
“Let’s Win Juan for Juan!” “Juan More Time for Juan” those beautifully etched red-white-blue signs boldly shouted as nearly every ambulatory black in this fine country rallied bravely to the defense of their guy.
My golly, every time I left my office, I feared for my safety, so many “Juan-ce More With Feeling” sign-carrying blacks were flooding the streets on Mr. Williams’s behalf.
Then I woke up from my dream.
Sadly, I discovered not one black man in America — except for a brave farmer named Buford in northern Nebraska — has dared in the past week to publicly criticize Mr. Williams’s classless firing by the bastion of baloney that is National Public Radio.
All liberal blacks in America received the word from On High — no black is to defend the traitor Williams because he said he gets nervous when he sees a Muslim on his flight. You all should know that Muslims are sacred liberal cows. Moo. And moo again.
At least you guys can stay home the night the medals for bravery are handed out. Rest up for your next march in support of diversity (just not of views).
