Michael Steele was supposed to be the token Negro in the Republican party. He was the "proof" that Republicans can include people who aren't old and white. He was the window dressing, the cover model who smiles for the camera but doesn't make waves. The party didn't get what it bargained for. He has the disconcerting habit of saying what he really thinks too often. Sure, he's a clown. But then again, so are all the various wing-nuts who seem to be representing what was once the party of Lincoln. There is Boehner, who wears his orange face in a perpetual scowl, and evidently spends most of his time in bars. Michelle Bachmann who generates lists of insane quotes that provide endless amusement but also real fear at the thought that this person was actually chosen to be a leader. Of course Sarah Palin needs no further introduction. And we all know the true leader of the party is Mr. Limbaugh, the much married and divorced draft-dodger, the addict, the sybarite who has been compared to Saddam Hussein in his love of luxury.
Michael Steele comes off as positively sane compared to the other prominent right-wingers. But he just doesn't toe the party line enough. He insists on having independent thoughts, and that is what makes him unforgivable.