I'm so, so sorry I said that, and also that you're a huge whiner... Aren't you tired of perpetually injured and whining blacks who think that their crocodile tears are like exotic jewels of emotion? Perhaps my favorite moment in their latest weepy and slightly drunken racial lamentation was this response by, of all people, Al Roker:

I cannot tell you how many people have asked me about my thoughts on Don Imus.

You're a huge liar, Al. No one will ever ask you about your thoughts on anything. But the notion that, when some mildly edgy or tasteless remark makes us cry, we turn to a fat, cheerfully inane clown weatherman for words of healing is proof that we are but characters in an epic satirical novel set in a world of sniveling morons. (Perhaps Roker is upset that his egg-shaped head will never be called "nappy".)

I knew at once that the more the senile Imus blubbered his apologies the worse it would be for him, as the grotesque, fleshy machine of racial outrage convulsed into sanctimonious and childish operation. His expression, that a team of female basketball players were "nappy-headed ho's" (I still haven't the faintest idea whether this bizarre mummy was trying to compliment or insult them), was taken to be a grievous insult of black dignity, or at least whatever they have in place of dignity after years of following Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson around...