Herman Cain Should Be Covered in Cheese & Stuffed into a Pizza Box After Questioning Obama's Blackness

What is a black man? Should a black man have two black parents? What is a real black man? We're lighting matches around gunpowder with these kinds of questions. But it is 4th of July. Soon. Herman Cain suggested that Barack Obama is not a real black man. I mean, he's kind of black, but not Hermain Cain black.

Cain talked about Obama to the NYT magazine, "A real black man is not timid about making the right decisions. It's documented that his mother was white and his father was from Africa. If he wants to call himself black, fine." See the discussion at MSNBC

At least the Pizza Guy didn't call Obama a dick.

Cain also said the kind of black man he admires would be Martin Luther King Jr. and his own father, but not Barack Obama. I also do not admire Barack Obama, but certainly not because he's got a white mother. Maybe because the president takes drone strikes at American citizens overseas, or maybe because Obama is cool with torturing a young private named Bradley Manning, or maybe because the president is in blatant violation of the War Powers Act. I could go on, but let's stick to the pizza man.

Herman Cain Creates "Creeping Muslim" Pizza as an Apology for Earlier Statements about Islam

These statements are clearly desperate blows from a man who sees the end of his short-lived 2012 GOP nomination run. The big boys, like Bachmann and Romney, have built a new Republican platform once they officially entered into the race, and there is no longer any room for Cain.

To watch a man gasp his final political breaths and use some of that precious air to spout hatred at the president, but not about the issues, but about his blackness, is a sorry, pitiful sight. But I try to draw humor from a low-life like Cain. But it's getting difficult. The political system is an ugly machine, and it eats even uglier people.

The best thing America can do with Cain is generously cover him with cheese, carefully place chunks of processed meat onto that cheese, heat him up, and stuff him into a giant cardboard box and ship him out to the dirtiest, grungiest frat house on the East Coast.

One boobie down, and a million more bumpkins to go.