First Hogzilla II, now this?
Not to convert this place into the Dead Meat Buffet but an enormous amount of meat died this weekend and we’re all the better for it. It goes without saying that the term “house negro” gets bandied about with great frequency against anyone of seemingly African descent when they are on the Right. Be you Clarence Thomas, Condoleeza Rice, Michael Steele, or J.C. Watts, you can expect a Harry Belafonte, a Danny Glover, or yes – even a Steve Gilliard (or even Randall Kennedy if you FireDogLakers are feeling froggy – 2.24.08) to call you out for being the race traitor that you are. The sell-out, Oreo cookies who do Whitey’s bidding and put a black face on racist policies that would otherwise be rightly called out for what they are. Uncle Thomas and Aunt Thomasinas alike.
But really, who is doing whose bidding in those situations? Can Howard Dean call Condoleeza his “do right answer mammy who be smart”? Can James Carville call out Clarence for collard greens?
Which brings us to today’s marquee morbidity. The tragic, untimely death of Donk House Negro and all around bigot Steve Gilliard. Who knew that boiling bacon grease in a spoon and mainlining it into the neck vein was bad for your health?
Most people will remember him as the happy-go-lucky poster of this photo of Michael Steele:
How to win a seat at the Democrat’s table.
The rest won’t remember him at all. The way it should be.
Naturally, The Left is deeply saddened that they need to find someone else who is not afraid to breakout the MS Paint and draw big lips and watermelons on black Republicans because they believe in individual responsibility or *gasp* lowering taxes.
It won’t be hard to find a replacement for Gilliard. Just scrape the bottom of the barrel like you usually do.
Douchetool Digby: “I wish I’d written that.”
Sobby newscoma: “He will be missed as a big voice in the liberal blogosphere”.
Looks like someone else beat me to the fat jokes.
And anyone who feels like complaining. Kindly STFU. Jane Hamsher has already written my defense for me.
Just blame my “take-no-prisoners attitude”!
Jules Crittenden has the eulogies roundup. They’re touching in a touch-your-tonsils-with-your-index-finger sort of way.
And other touching obit from the NYT.