Makin’ meatballs, bork-bork. Steamin’ carrots, what’s-up-doc. Steamin’ updock, something-something.
MEDIA ADVISORY, Sept. 18 /Christian Newswire/
Musician Rippin’ Richie isn’t offended by accusations of racism from Jimmy Carter and others on the left.
Whoah, Jimmy Carter and others on the left are going after, that is to say, ‘ripping’ musician Rippin’ Richie. We’d better go see.
“These accusations are too ridiculous to be taken seriously, so It’s hard for me to be offended.”
Oh, well never mind then. That statement is too dull to be interesting, so it’s hard for me to be interested. Next up on our countdown is a video by Republican rapper Hi-Caliber. It’s too sucky to not suck, so it’s hard to imagine it not sucking.
Jimmy Carter and New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd are among those that have implied
that resistance to Obama’s radical socialist agenda is due to his skin color.
Wait, it’s Richie again. His skin color? Why, that’s ridiculous, because what if Americans get a tan? It doesn’t turn them into radical socialists any more than it turns them into black people! Jimmy Carter sure is dumb for a moral monster and enemy of all humanity. I thought you had to be smart to be one of those, but I guess not.
Plus okay, what explains the resistance to his rabid, axe-murdering communist Nazi agenda of universal child prostitution that underlies Hussein Obama’s open endorsement of radical Islamofascist extermination-of-all-life as practiced in his native country of Africa and/or Indonesia? Ha ha! Is it his hair color? Ha ha! Oh wow, who are the real racists here? Let me guess, it’s the so-called ‘racists’ again, not the liberal black agenda with its forced approval of anti-Biblical marriages and ‘slow war’ of urban muggings.
Rippin’ Richie says the people in the all black choir (except for Richie) he used to play in would get a good laugh at the idea that he could be a racist.
May God, said earnestly, deliver us from the brain-rattling persistence of the crummy ‘I possess the endorsement of some black people’ argument, inadequate in the case of actual civil-rights volunteers gone rancid, such as David Horowitz and Joe Lieberman, and infuriating when the people cited are mere activity partners and acquaintances, people who don’t know you except as the face you bring to the PTA, the softball league, the interfaith bass player gig with the gospel chorus.
“The idea that I could be racist,” goes such an infuriating apology, “would provide a good laugh to the people in the all-black basketball team I play pickup games in.” Uh, no, either they don’t care about your inner life, or that idea would bother them, pretty much. The idea that someone could be racist seems funny only to conservatives, who are as avid to confront and re-confront race as the rest of America is weary of doing so, and whose current obsession — besides the ever-updated calculations of the race scold as to how far is currently too far — is in redefining ‘racism’ by wordplay and debating tricks to include the guilt that black people try to lay on white people (hyper-wearying when done cynically), but to exclude any possible lasting effects of a segregation, of an enforced peonage of full, native-born US citizens by fact of race, that was settled and enforced law within the memory of tens of millions of living Americans, and that was broken, and that was then enforced, by imposed Federal power against the will of the majority. Where, then, have all these racists gone?
Viz: Interracial marriage became legal in all 50 states with the passage of a ballot measure in Alabama in November, 2000. The law had become unenforceable with Loving v Virginia in 1967, yet 40.5% still voted against repealing it.
Richie’s home state of South Carolina at least had its own anti-miscegenation law struck down during the 20th Century, rather than carrying into the 21st, but not by a praiseworthy margin: Interracial marriage was against the law there until 1998. In the end, 38.1% voted to keep it that way, with the shame, or excuse me, the howling ignominy and stink unto God of each percentage made thicker by the fact that it includes all non-white voters.
So as you can see, there’s no racism in the US anymore, except for when you feel bad because a black guy on TV called you “Honky the Snowman,” give or take about 40% of the entire population of some states. Anyway, the last quote went:
Rippin’ Richie says the people in the all black choir (except for Richie) he used to play in would get a good laugh at the idea that he could be a racist.
And the picture to go with it would be something like the Blind Boys of Alabama, with a caption like, “Oh, you mean ol’ Hate-Mouth Richie with the N-this and the N-that. No, he got along just fine with white folks.” See, because they don’t realize that he… But no, let’s not be incited into that. Although, that caption is too long and would work better if…but no.
Instead, that’s Richie there on bass, and there you go: Is that the kind of band that would harbor a racist? Their story says no! Before specializing in the Hits of the ’80s, RetroVertigo, Upstate South Carolina’s Premiere [some press kits say ‘penultimate’] Bringers of the Electric Slide, toured for several years from the Spartanburg Metro Area as far southwest as the Greenville Loop (i.e. the Mauldin-Simpsonville Corridor) as Rufus T-Bone and the All-Tar Blaxxxplosion, Featuring the As-Pitch Singers and the Nohon Keys. After an attempt to go tropical as MC Thuggamuffin and the Chocolate Spleeves, Yar, met with mixed success (the Rankin’ Richie persona would carry over into The Itals, a reggae/Four Seasons fusion act, as Rankin’ Nicky Mulignan), the band’s classic ’80s orientation began to take shape with Blacks Without Sacks, an early attempt at an Ivan/Stefan Doroschuk tribute ensemble, with vocalist Toofless T-Tone “Toni! Toné!” Tomlinson taking the lead character of Ivan Workanonna Rare-road, while Rippin’ Richie, then called Fartin’ Fitchburg Fitchie, played the other principle [some fliers say ‘capitol’] role [some fliers say ‘rocken role’] of Stefan Fetchit. A cover of the Sparkletones’ ‘Black Slacks’ was rewritten to address the taxation of the productive in order to finance a racially distinct underclass. ‘Blacks’ Tax’ featured a saxophone played laxly.
Next came Men Without Work, an Ivan Doroschuk/Colin Hay tribute ensemble that also performed in blackface, the conceit again being welfare reform, and a standout performance being “Crack is Wack (I Want My Baby Back),” with Richie wearing the lead vocalist’s bonnet as ‘Angie Mima’ and the Department of Family Services worker played by guitarist Pat Hindman with a snatched plastic infant dangling from the rear strap button of his vintage-fail Steinberger with the no headstock and the body made of graphite or some toneless and resonance-killing substance like that, plus also just look at it. And okay, no harm, no foul, but what are those, EMGs? I mean jeez, saddle up the freaking Gallien-Krueger, why don’t you?
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