It's possible that Tom Brady will get ribbed when he arrives at training camp this summer, but the ribbing seems just as likely to come from Randy Moss, who's black, as it would from Wes Welker, who's white. I'd like to think that after their groggy Super Bowl performance a few months ago, the Patriots have more pressing concerns. So do black people. I, for one, have racism fatigue. I'm wiped out. Between the outrage over Obama's Jeremiah Wright problems and Bill Clinton's unbelievable mutation from American's first black president into Karl Rove, I don't have the bandwidth to fight Anna Wintour. Seeing that cover as purely racist doesn't give the people looking at it enough credit. It dates Vogue for relying on the allusion but it also dates us for going crazy over it. Racial hysteria is the old black. Maybe it's so old it's avant-garde—very Vogue.
LeBron James says that he likes the Vogue cover, and the outrage is coming from people who have nothing to do with him or the magazine. So why don't we apply this rule: From now on, we only get outraged about racism when it concerns racism involving a clear victim of discrimination, harassment and/or an infringement of their rights. Otherwise we may get to the point where we will be losing our minds about the perception of a picture of a black man at a dinner where both fried chicken and watermelon are present on the table.