Mark Judge’s bicycle has been stolen in Washington DC. And you know what? That’s it, African-American community — Mark Judge has had it with you!
I read the entire article… Oh okay, I skimmed it, though unfortunately not lightly enough to miss the fact that his favorite movie “as a kid” was apparently In The Heat Of The Night. You know, I think I believe that. He reads like the sort of humorless person who really would pick that movie over Star Wars. (Judge graduated college in 1990. I’m pretty sure all his buddies were collecting plastic light sabers and Han Solo Big Gulp cups while he was rewinding his videotape back to the part where Sidney Poitier says: “They call me MISTAH Tibbs!” Not that that’s not an awesome scene. But anyway.) I read through, more or less, this article, and the facts are these: his bike was stolen on Good Friday. He had taken his bike to church, or as he carefully tells us: “the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C., for the Stations of the Cross — the pre-Easter Catholic ritual of recounting the events that happened to Jesus on his way to crucifixion.” I’m sure he’s not equating the theft of his bike with the crucifixion of Jesus in any way. Moving on. Apparently there were lots of kids around — black kids. Can you hear the clanging chimes of doom? Because you see, since he was in what was apparently a black neighborhood (it’s been years since I’ve been to DC and Catholic shrines were never on my sightseeing list in that town so I have no idea), and there were a bunch of kids of color all over the place, instead of, I don’t know, locked up where they can’t bother white guys on bikes, he decided that “the odds were very high that a black person had taken my bike.”
You know what, I just don’t know what to say. I mean, yeah, the “odds are high” that a black kid took his bike if black kids were at a premium in the neighborhood, but that’s not how we’re supposed to approach things. It just isn’t. Another thing: he hadn’t actually ridden his bike; it was attached to his car via a bike rack. And I’m sorry but he was in fucking downtown Washington DC, a city famous for crime ever since I can remember, and I am older than Mark Judge. As one former resident of a high-crime city to another who still lives in one: you stupid idiot, what did you think would happen. You basically hung a sign on your bike that said “take this! It’s free!” He left his bike on its rack on his car and parked it in downtown Washington DC and is surprised it got stolen. I can not get over the massive I-own-the-world sense of entitlement a person has to have to 1) be surprised at his fate, and 2) actually write a column grousing about it and 3) declaring that because his Precious was taken from his life he will now stop having something called “white guilt” which if you ask me he never had. Instead he sounds like the usual upper-class white man whose smug certainty in his own enlightened tolerance means he should get the red carpet through life. Fuck you no it does not work that way.
By the way: I do not care that the bike was symbolic of Judge’s recovery from lymphoma. It’s just a bike; get another one. One more thing: when I was a kid growing up in a mostly Anglo and Cuban neighborhood, we were getting our bikes stolen all the time. There were no black kids who lived nearby. My parents just shrugged and went to the junk yard and bought us another one. But that was before bicycles became symbols of white liberal hipness. Okay one more thing because I cannot let go of this idiocy: I love the way he’s miffed at how slow the DC cops were to respond to his bat signal. Yes, I’m sure that in the sleepy, almost-crime-free District of Columbia the cops were really bored and had nothing to do and probably fought each other to get to this prime crime scene. I wonder if he demanded they dust for fingerprints and asked why the CSI van wasn’t there.
On a lighter note, Howard Stern is mistaken: if a white guy had sung the theme to Love Boat, he would also have gotten high marks or whatever it is they do on America’s Got Talent, a show I’ve never seen and hopefully will never see. I mean, do you realize the hipster cred that singing the theme to Love Boat will get you these days? No one would have hit that “x” button, except maybe Stern, who is obviously out of the loop. Anyway, to close this out, click this link and sing along: “Love… exciting and new…” You know you want to.
(First two links via Five Feet of Fury. The last link is a gift from me to you. PS: edited to add that this is not Mike Judge of Beavis and Butthead and Office Space fame. I almost made that mistake and was all confused until I kept reading. If I hadn’t remembered the difference in first names I’d have been clued in by the singular humorlessness and lack of perspective displayed in the column that no, this was not the same person as the creator of Idiocracy.)