Trump is taking heat for this remark to black journalists:
“I have known her a long time, indirectly, not directly very much. And she was always of Indian heritage, and she was only promoting Indian heritage. I did not know she was Black until a number of years ago, when she happened to turn Black, and now she wants to be known as Black. Is she Indian or is she Black?”
Needless to say, that provoked outrage; so, trying to salvage a scrap of dignity from the situation, he tried again:
“‘Crazy Kamala is saying she’s Indian, not Black,’ wrote Trump. ‘This is a big deal. Stone cold phony. She uses everybody, including her racial identity!’ He accompanied this with a brief clip of Harris cooking traditional Indian cuisine with Emmy award-winning actress and comedian Mindy Kaling.”
(See story here.) Now, if there’s something to this — and I’m not saying there isn’t — then I’m Indian, too! Why? Because I popped one of these into the microwave and ate it for lunch. According to Trump, that makes me Indian, and Trump is always right.
Of course, I don’t eat Indian food all the time. Once in a while I eat BBQ ribs, which makes me Texan on those days. On other days, I eat fried chicken, which makes me black sometimes. That is, if you believe Trump is right about what he says. But if you ask me, there’s no day of the week that he’s not racist.
