Buzz Bissinger Jokes That Jeremy Lin And Michael Vick Should Open “Vietmanese-Style Restaurant” And “Plan Menu”

I’m not really sure when a disqualifying preface all of a sudden stripped the racism from racism — or from indulgence in racist jokes, or from prods at passively (as opposed to actively and maliciously) racist stereotypes, or however the hell grumpy-ass Buzz Bissinger would choose to typify what he wrote in his latest Daily Beast column.

But it doesn’t. Sorry.

Writes Bissinger:

“WARNING ALERT: THE FOLLOWING MAY BE CONSIDERED POLITICALLY INCORRECT AND INAPPROPRIATE ON SEVERAL LEVELS. REPEAT THIS IS A WARNING ALERT.

IF YOU ARE OFFENDED, SKIP OVER, OR LIGHTEN UP AND GET A LIFE.

YOU CAN HANDLE THIS.

(Jeremy Lin) has not solved Michael Vick’s dog-killing problem that continues to make him the most hated athlete in America, although he could by opening a Vietnamese-style restaurant with him and carefully planning the menu together.”

See what I mean? That’s like saying to someone “No, no — it’s cool. I’m just going to punch you in the face. What do you mean, you don’t want me to? I’ve got an icepack and Advil and neuralizer and everything. Couple minutes later, it’ll be like it never happened.”

Except for, it did. And you did it.

To set context — without reading the rest of what was (at times) a dutifully crafted piece, even if it was a half-hearted admission about whiffing on Jeremy Lin as a “flash in the pan,” yet still clinging to what should be his unaffected credibility, you might be wondering where he’s going with that — Bissinger rattles off an armful of world matters left off of Jeremy Lin’s short list of accomplishments, like ridding “Manhattan’s major thoroughfares of potholes” or “replac(ing) the mini-mayor” or “prevent(ing) the insufferable Bill Maher from looking increasingly lizard-like by the minute,” all clearly in jest.

But then he went all “Mike Vick” and “Bad Newz” and “things you know in advance you shouldn’t say, but say them for the same reason old people steal things: because you think you can without consequence.” It’s embarrassing.

Remember: This is a former Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, and arguably among the best and last of a dying breed: newspaper men of the old regime, who could pontificate with style and charm, less writers than painters. And now he’s turned into Jason Whitlock (noise in lieu of talent) or Madonna (noise for the sake of resurrecting relevance) or Glenn Beck (noise for the sake of noise).

Kind of sad actually. Not “boo-hoo” sad.

Like, “pathetic” sad.