Honeymoon's over

It is becoming clear that the Republican Party has run out of patience with black people. Every poll suggests that they are losing ground, that most black Americans would sooner vote for Pol Pot than any living Republican. "What do they want from us?" I can hear them cry. "We let Armstrong Williams earn a nice piece of change that could have gone to John Tierney or Robert Novak. We sent Bush to the Gulf Coast, what, half a dozen times, and he stood right there and pledged that Trent Lott's beach house would rise again. We even sent him to the NAACP, and he was plenty steamed about his lukewarm reception. Time and again we tried to abolish the estate tax, so that whoever inherits Oprah's money won't face that crushing burden. No other administration has had even one token black Secretary of State, much less two. This is our thanks? Time to move Alan Keyes and his homeys to the back of the Big Tent and concentrate on our base."

Isn't that what they're doing?

It took some effort, but thanks to George Allen (R-VA), holder of the hotly-contested title Stupidest Person in the Senate, America has gained a new racial slur. Two weeks ago, most people thought Macaca was a Brazilian dance. By next month, we'll be calling it "the M word." Well done, Senator -- you're the source that will be cited in the Dictionary of American Slang some day. When you're forgotten even in the Old Dominion, a tiny, nasty part of you will live on.

I admit to being baffled by the cover of the latest Weekly Standard, the magazine for those who find the National Review to be too conciliatory. Here we have Ned Lamont getting out of a limousine (because he's rich, and in this case that's a bad thing) while Al Sharpton stands by in a chauffeur's uniform. Well, at least he isn't shining Ned's shoes. What year is this? Should I read the cover story, or just run head first into the nearest wall?


It's August, but there's a cold wind blowing. The party of fear will be serving up a side order of hate this fall. It's what they do when they're backed into a corner. Get ready to duck.