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Das Langweilige ist interessant geworden, weil das Interessante angefangen hat langweilig zu werden. – Thomas Mann

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Monday, November 19, 2007

the winner of the noose award is...

There has lately been a heated contest, among America’s most beloved pundits, for the coveted Strom Thurmond Cup for the Advancement of Racism. Andrew Sullivan, defending his sterling role in the Bell Curve controversy, was of course everybody’s favorite. It was a perfect racist double cross – Sullivan both advocated an obviously racist thesis about the inferiority of blacks and pretended that he was only making a space for an interesting scientific exploration. Sort of like Mission: fear of the Black Planet. Now, the way racism in the white establishment has to travel is through such second hand disguises. You can’t bring out the tar and nooses, like in the old days, although you can indignantly rebut the very idea of rednecks hanging nooses on trees as having anything to do with racism – it has to do with high spirited references to, uh, Westerns.

Such was the state of play until a dark horse, Slate’s own William Saletan, donned the sheets and went for straightforward racism of the good old fashioned type – even backing it up with references to Philip Rushton, which is a little like backing up a thesis about the predominance of Jews in Banking with a reference to Protocols of the Elders of Zion. Slate, being a piece of property of the Washington Post, is certainly surprising us. You would think the Post would be a little averse to becoming a forum for a White Citizens Council discussion – but you’d be wrong! Because Slate is brave… Slate is independent … Slate is contrarian. Thus, the fondness for the cutest, sweetest, butter doesn't melt in my mouth race baiting, but only of the very very very very scientific type, which could only be objected to by, in the immortal words of Saletan himself, liberal creationists! That’s telling us. It is all scientific and cut and dried, this white superiority to that African race.

So, Saletan wins this year’s noose. And I know what I hope he does with it, the punkass bastard.

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