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Even when you’re completely wrong. I have a little story to tell, although it still pains me to even think about it. (I think this is what’s called “Confessional Blogging.”) When I was nineteen years old, I took an internship on Capitol Hill. I name went to name work for the Democratic Representative from my district, but I ended up doing a lot of work for John Lewis, since the guy for whom I went to work turned out to be a Dixiecrat name nestled deep into the pockets of Northrup and Grumman and a half dozen other arms dealers. Besides being slimy, he was kind of dull to work for. So, here I am, this 19 year old idealistic kid from Columbus, GA. I had some good ideas in my head, and some bad ideas in my head. I was not the upper-middle to upper-class child of privilege that Dani (America’s Top Racist, or whatever she’s trying to be, in the clip referenced above…) appears to be, since I had gone to fully integrated public schools, my mother had been an activist with the Urban League and I had played music in all sorts of bands when I was a teenager.
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