I finally got the July 21, 2008, issue of the New Yorker that had so many bloggers, blog readers, and media types in a tizzy earlier this week.
I was outraged. And here’s why:
From the moment I saw the cover (Sunday night, I believe it was), I thought it was funny, if not hilarious, if not brilliant. New Yorker cartoons often take a moment to fully sink in and realize the hilariousness of. Ditto here, except that I was realizing how funny and awesome it was — what a great Fuck You to the legions of morons out there who believe any or all of the stereotypes so artfully portrayed by the artist.
But I was pissed looking at this cover, once I held it in my hands, because now all it does is remind me what an annoying little episode it represents in this never-ending campaign season.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’ll fade away into the depths of long-term, collective memory. We rarely talk of Reverend Jeremiah Wright these days, after all.
But maybe I’m right. Gee, that would make a great alternative title of this blog. Heh.
