Not long after the 1968 assassination of Dr. Marin Luther King, with his stinging reminders of America’s slavery legacy causing their stomachs to morph into year-old jelly, the most influential of media arbiters sank to their knees. With the agreeability of a chap about to take a seat in the nearest electric chair, they bowed their heads and slid into a sensitive – nay, forced — decision.

Given the destructive history of the use of the nouns “boy” and “girl” when referring to slaves, regardless of age, the medium-sized midgets of the liberal media issued a declaration.

Hereafter, and for heaven’s sakes, forever more, all young black people under 21 – later changed to18 – later amended to 5 – would be referred to as “young men” and “young women.” As they edged closer to majority, the “young” would be dropped.

This had the slightly unintended effect of spilling into the other technicolor cultures dotting our lately blood-splashed land — thanks to liberals egging on their obedient proteges.

Racing to Ferguson

Which brings us to America’s latest punchline, Ferguson.

Liberal journalists have been covering the ugliness of Ferguson more closely than a groom hews to his bride on the maiden night of their marital mating.

[img]2891|right|Michael Eric Dyson||no_popup[/img]Leading the mob, predictably, is The New York Times, whose stock is sinking faster than their hero, President Buffy Obama. As surely as a man striding into a bank with firearm drawn intends to commit a holdup, the Times has been sweating blood for four months in the fervent black or white – they were not picky — blood would scarletize the streets of Ferguson. They have had more reporters in the failing suburb than most surviving print newspapers have left on staffs.

“Egging-on the racist mouthpieces” has been the succinct assignment of each journalist.

Yesterday being the Lord’s day, by the reckoning of the Gentile bible, the Times rested.

They turned over their high profile Sunday Review section to Mike Dyson, the Al Sharpton of academia.  Mike is a loose cannon in undisciplined temperament and size. Mike is angry. Mike is a sociology professor, a perfect fit for him because precision is the enemy of sociology profs and professional victims, Mike’s carefully chosen two-tiered career.

Truth? Truth? Where Is It?

As the commentator Dennis Prager notes, “truth is not a value for the left,” making the Mike Brown case the ideal tonic for the race addict who teaches tinted sociology at extremely liberal Georgetown U.

Mike was romping across the top of the Sunday Review section yesterday as if his girlfriend and wife both had just given birth on the same day to baby racists.

He is all over television when a race-provoked crisis, usually phony, “erupts” on the scripted schedule. His bank account proves it.

Suffering from over-Ferguson disease, Mike brewed and cooked more lies about Ferguson, America and race into a single essay than anyone has since Betty Crocker was arrested for allegedly hooking.

From the start, casting himself as a lifelong, helpless victim of endemic racism, he denigrated every non-black he could rhetorically rape.

He spewed two whoppers at the outset, and the rest you can set fire to with the leftovers from the robbery the hulking Mr. Brown light-fingered just before he laid down to die.

Trying for a home run in his first sentence, Manipulative Mike, one of the strongest voices for treating blacks with respect, played the Feel Sorry for Us card. He described Mr. Brown not as a man, not as a robber, but as the underdog soul of vulnerability, an “unarmed black youth.” Now he is a youth after four months as a man?

Mike’s second lie was in the third paragraph: “From the start, most African-Americans were convinced that Michael Brown’s death wouldn’t be fairly considered by Ferguson’s criminal justice system.” Wrong again, pal. Most normal blacks believe/d the system would treat the case fairly, and it did.

Two-for-two, babe. You are batting 1.000 for the bad guys’ side.