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What Is a Movie Critic's Job in the Summer of Comic Books?
By Alan Scherstuhl and Stephanie Zacharek
As D'Souza, in voiceover, describes debating Jesse Jackson on the topic of whether this is a racist country, we're treated to the sight of a hunky young black man sauntering up to a stool in the kind of neighborhood bar you might see in a Keith Urban video. He sits and smiles; the two twentysomething white guys on either side of him eye him, then each other, and then march off without a word.
The black man slumps, sadly.
D'Souza, meanwhile, is now talking about how his own hands are the same color as Jesse Jackson's, and just as you're wondering what the hell that is supposed to mean, those two white guys are back, and guess what? They weren't storming away out of hatred for the black guy — they were storming away to surprise him with a goddamn birthday cake. Suddenly every person in the bar, all white, is clapping and cheering, and the black guy — a little sheepish at first — soon is beaming with them, having learned the lesson that D'Souza wants to share with everyone who has ever made the mistake of thinking he or she has been on the receiving end of racial prejudice: White people love Dinesh D'Souza, and they would love you, too, if you would just sit there quietly and let them.
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