Let the Children’s Hour commence.
Six New England Patriots yesterday stepped down from their gasoline-powered skateboards, pushed their crayons aside, straightened their eyebrows, and held up individual blackboards.
Their message: Because they are pretty sure they should object to something President Trump said, they will take a pass when the Super Bowl champions are invited to meet the President in the White House.
Three of the six misspelled Mr. Trump’s surname.
Two asked, “What’s a sirname?”
The other three misspelled president.
Naturally, the black Democrat essayist who reported the almost-news in USA Today sought, obligatorily, to stir racial tensions. As a libbie, he is duty-bound.
As a good Dem racist the essayistst raised the ghostly spectral of last fall’s racial nonsense. That was when Casper the Unfriendly Ghost, Colin Kaepernick, a lightweight backup quarterback with the San Francisco 49ers, said his girlfriend told him not to stand for the National Anthem because America is a racist country. Obediently, Colin grew an Afro and took a knee. Then he went out shopping for a used spine.
In their fourth month of shock since Mr. Trump dumped the tilted Mrs. Clinton, libbies know turning any cooked-up “disagreement” with the activist president will catch media fire if they can pit blacks and their enablers against whites and their enablers.
The media boys slept through the eight Obama years when presidential criticism was outlawed. Little worth sneezing at occurred, anyway, when the work-averse president, by remote control, clasped the silky reins of power.
What made this almost-news story reportable was that the somber essayist, as a bonus, kicked virulent dirt in the face of Mr. Trump to prove, presumably, that sportswriters read the funny pages, too. Now if he could just teachers players to spell c-a-t and d-o-g.