When I eat lunch with a Mexican-American childhood friend, I feel no greater affinity with the white waitress by reason of our shared appearance; in the new America am I to high-five the white stranger in the Selma Wal-Mart, by virtue that, out of hundreds there, we two alone look more alike? I am sorry; I just cannot accept that. I have far more in common with Steve Lara, my friend of 50 years, than a David Gergen or Chris Matthews.
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NEW from New English Review:
- Does Olivia Chow’s proposed handgun ban include the piece owned by Warren Kinsella’s girlfriend — who volunteers for Chow?
- Has Warren Kinsella resigned from Sun News yet? Day One
- What if G. Gordon Liddy had shown up at the Watergate, and the DNC office door was unlocked?
- Cops: unionized bureaucrats — with guns
- ‘I don’t understand the SlutWalk’
- Mark Steyn on one of the great recordings: Frank Sinatra’s ‘Fly Me To the Moon’
- Tommy, last surviving Ramone, dies, aged 65 (or thereabouts)
- Now I have to track down everything Julie Klausner’s ever done
- ‘[T]he person objectively that knew more about Islam than anybody’ doesn’t know very much
- ‘Progressives’ live in the past