Or in other words: Post-racial, my posterior.
I mean, we'd like to think we were past all the racist nonsense that so regrettably colors our history, but then this happens. And we're reminded that 2011 is only a couple of beers, a sixth-grade education and a few million dead brain cells away from 1911.
Or, 1991 or so. When I read this, I immediately flashed on the night in Indianapolis, two decades ago, when Ice fans, not a notably classy lot, dangled bananas over the glass to taunt Steve Fletcher of the Komets, who is black.
Same ignorance. Different day.