Wingnuttery, cont’d

Greg’s post below is not a joke, though you would be forgiven for imagining that it is. From what I can tell, the whole thing hinges on the entirely imaginary premise that Malcom X might have had a speaking gig in the Seattle area in the summer of 1960, and that he was in the habit of sleeping with random white women at the end of his lectures about black nationalism.

I’m old enough, I remember when people with theories like this had to stand on streetcorners shouting at passers-by.