The left continues their bizarre obsession with racism.

(WaPo) — I thought I knew myself pretty well by now, but something has just happened that I never would have figured possible. At 60, I have fallen in love with a Republican. It’s real. She and I share a bed. The wife is okay with it.

I’ve been living with my dog for five years now, but only recently did I come to accept Murphy’s red-state politics. The signs were everywhere, but I refused to accept them — there are some awkward truths that people tend to deny until the evidence overwhelms. One of these might be that you need pants with a bigger waist. [...]

Her displeasures are legion. She will also rooooo at people on crutches, people doing exercises, people in hats, people with limps, people on skateboards, people carrying large packages. Truest to her politics, she’s not big on alternative energy: She roooos at those creepy, stealthy electric cars. In Murphy’s world, cars should make noise. Drill, baby, drill.

Like other Republicans, Murphy demands less government; she makes this position abundantly clear anytime I attempt to govern her behavior in any way inconsistent with her immediate desires, such as horking up maggoty chicken from the gutter, which she will do with subversive glee while in a protective crouch. She’s for eliminating federal agencies, particularly the U.S. Postal Service, a position she shares with Ron Paul and reconfirms once a day, impolitely, through the mail slot.

Murphy is a Plott hound, which means she is 100 percent American — one of the few completely native breeds, developed in the rural South for huntin’. By constitution, therefore, she’s a gun-loving redneck. As might be expected, she has some issues with racial diversity: She is friendly to most dogs but will snarl and snap at Akitas and Airedales, two fussy-looking breeds that resemble large stuffed toys. To her, there are litmus tests for being a real dog, and they just don’t pass.

I’m happy to report my dog Laney is not a racist.