Just a few weeks ago on the streets of Brooklyn, protesters chanted, “NYPD KKK, how many kids did you kill today?” But any elderly Kleagles from the KKK heyday minded to visit Fun City would find the NYPD an odd sort of Klan outfit. A Black Muslim called Ismaaiyl Abdullah Brinsley executes two police officers called Rafael Ramos and Wen Jian Liu – “obviously avatars of white privilege,” as Jay Nordlinger put it – and the nearest thing to white male privilege in this story is the socialist mayor on whom Officer Ramos and Liu’s grieving colleagues ostentatiously turned their backs. And Bill de Blasio uses his mother’s maiden name, and is married to a black sometime lesbian by whom he has two biracial children.
When I first heard of de Blasio, I recalled something Howard Dean had said when I shared a stage with him and Fred Thompson in Calgary four years ago. Dean had been enthusing about how today’s generation of young Americans were the most diverse ever and were way beyond the old categorizations: “They all have friends of every race, every ethnicity, every immigration status, every religion, every sexual orientation – and they all date each other.” In the Dean utopia, the big bearded imam is dating an undocumented pre-op transgender infidel and having a grand old time. Oh, you can titter, but you can sort of see Dean’s point when you look at the multiracial, multiorientational de Blasio family: until that one grim day (of which the Mayor spoke the other week) when their son Dante has his first, long-anticipated run-in with Dad’s own police department, the de Blasio clan are living the diversity dream.