I can’t imagine how the comments could possibly be “JOOOOO!”-y this week, but you never know…
Reluctantly popping over to the NYT website to reread it for this column, I was confronted with the Sunday op-ed page, which approached a late-career-Marlene-Dietrich level of self-parody.
After being confronted with a photo-illustration of a man in a “hoodie” draped with an American flag, readers are offered: “Where Do We Go After Ferguson?” by Michael Eric Dyson (whom I briefly confused with Neil deGrasse Tyson and now resent for preventing me from cracking a perfectly decent “How’s about outer space if you love it so much?” joke); “conservative” Ross Douthat’s contention that “After Ferguson, it’s harder to make a case for optimism about race and politics in America”; and (I’m not joking) “When Whites Just Don’t Get It, Part 5” by Nicholas Kristof.
(Something else to thank God for? “Maureen Dowd and Thomas L. Friedman are off today.”)
Woodson’s “Watermelon-quiddick” op-ed is, predictably, very “Maya Angelou”—a slice of bitter yet lyrical autobiographical anti-nostalgia, heated to, if not quite to a boil, then to a strong simmer, over a steady, well-stoked flame of resentment…
