So, Roseanne Barr, what exactly made you do this? Were you wrapping a gift for one of your grandkids and found it funny to fashion a noose from the ribbon? Did you apply to work the white-sheet sale at Macy’s and not land the job? Did your personal chef burn up the Uncle Ben’s Converted Rice last night and hide the Aunt Jemima’s syrup this morning? Your spectacular meltdown is the quintessential unforced error. And speaking of sports terms, don’t expect this to fade into the outfield like your slaying of “The Star-Spangled Banner” in 1990. We’re going to keep you in the dugout for awhile where we can see the brown dirt on your face.
You already know this. Faster than George Wallace could say “George Lincoln Rockwell,” ABC kicked you and your Trump-tweeted sitcom to the curb, whereupon a bus came along and ran over you, backing into reverse three times to make sure everything got properly pulverized. All because you couldn’t keep your Trump-trumpeted racial upchuck within the privacy of your KKK 12-step program. Good going. Now you’ve thrown who knows how many actors, crew and gender-nonconforming characters out of work. All of those good — white! — people now without jobs. Maybe instead of that tweet you sent back in March — you know, when you mistakenly accused Parkland survivor David Hogg of giving a Nazi salute — you should have marched yourself onto the set of rebooted Roseanne one last time and outed yourself as the eugenicist-supremacist you are and saved all of us in the media the bother. If you were ever funny, and I’m not convinced you ever were, you sure stopped being funny at the precise moment you allowed that metastasized cancer known as your personal politics to take precedence over whatever actual talent you still possess.
Or maybe it’s just as well. Frankly, I don’t want to hear about the abhorrent and repugnant politics of celebrities after their death, their zillions safe and sound. I want to smoke every feckless grotesque like you out of your
shithole while you’re still breathing and fulminating, so I can memorize your face and tell the next generation, and the generation that follows, and also tell your baby grandchild when she’s old enough to understand it, that that is what a racist looks like, that is not what America stands for, and not only is this why the arc of the moral universe is long but this is why it must bend toward justice, and also that you, Roseanne, are the obtuse angle that prevents the rest of us from bending toward justice way, way faster. So sit in your house now and stew. Or rot. I couldn’t care less.
And now a note for all of you Vichy Republicans who, since March, have been getting out your fluffy white towels from the hall closet to mop up your wetness every time Roseanne is on, so excited are you to see a card-carrying member of the Trump SS on the tube. You seem to think we might forget all of you who were in such a patriotic lather 28 years ago when Barr grabbed her crotch after desecrating “The Star-Spangled Banner” at a baseball game, your collective heads violently nodding in self-righteousness when President H.W. Bush scolded Barr for her un-American, unpatriotic comportment and told you to do the same. So angry at Barr then, you turned orgasmic about her just because our Dear Leader, Bandito Trumpolini, told you to? Tell you what. Instead of breaking the arms of children when ICE agents rip them from their immigrant mothers, we should rip you from your homes and rip you from your offices and slap a yellow star on your ass with the face of Roseanne Barr on it and frog-march you to the nearest comedy club where maybe you’ll discover, finally, some of the differences between what is humor and what is horror. Bring your negligible Republican tax cut with you, there’s a two-drink minimum.
Because Barr really isn’t the problem here, it’s you. “Roseanne Conner, Roseanne Conner, she represents me, she represents me”? No, she’s nothing but a Conner artist — and you’re the same under-educated, Koch-indoctrinated turncoat who voted in the Pussy Grabber-in-Chief. Thanks.
And now a note for ABC. Good for you for pulling Barr off the air so fast — now we can get back to really important things like Dancing with the Stars, Season 184. But here come the spoils! I’m talking about liberals, their eyes bigger now than Olive Oyl gorging at Popeye’s. They’re going to ask why Barr was ever back on the air in the first place. Oh, come on now. Don’t pull that disingenuous “We didn’t know!” stuff with me. Seriously, Saran Wrap is less transparent than you are. You knew something like this could happen. You knew. As did all the actors in the cast. I do feel bad for them, yes, but there’s a reason The Charles Manson Comedy Hour barely made it one season — you just know something insane is brewing. So while I appreciate the swiftness of your condemnation and cancellation, ABC, next time, if you don’t want to put the “big” back into bigotry, please don’t green-light a bigot.
Now I’m off to watch a town hall on MSNBC on which Valerie Jarrett was already slated to appear. I mean, how funny is that?