When House knee-Bro-Rama has got the Reverend Fetchit schlepping the waste water from the White House outhouse to his thirsty worshipers at the P-Avenue fence, you got the makings of darn fine teevee.
To the dehydrated, the story is that the Y chromosome buried deep in Bay Buchanan’s sweet asshole is still a racist. “Oh, no, he di’n’t!”
The great washed & fed masses (those with the luxury of sophisticated political analysis from the cool comforting consternation of their couch of concern for those less fortunate than themselves) are able to see how astonishingly clean and articulate Doctor Brawley uses a simile of the sweet science to talking-point punch the shit out of anyone who thinks that Bo Mighty Rama is anything other than a hybrid of allthings one step ahead of anyone or anything else. That includes you, by the way.