My white guilt died on Good Friday, April 6, 2012. That was the day my bike got stolen.
Lede of the century, after which comes an 800-word tear about black criminals and a man who has boldly given up on feeling sorry for the African-American community. There’s just one problem: The author has no idea who stole his bike; he’s just assuming it was a black person.
The pissed off old racists are on a roll!