The campaign to cancel our national anthem continues. The worst song in human history, “Imagine,” was suggested as a suitable replacement. However, it falls short because it was written by a white person. The Los Angeles Times nominates “Lean on Me,” which also calls for Dramamine and was written by a Person of Politically Preferred Pigmentation.

Reasons the La-La Land Times chooses this queasy ballad to replace the canceled “Star-Spangled Banner” include:

It doesn’t march to a martial beat or rise to grand crescendos. The lyrics hold no pastoral images of fruited plains or oceans white with foam, no high-minded invocations of liberty or God. …

Hillary Clinton belted it out on “Saturday Night Live,” in a duet with Kate McKinnon. …

It was performed by Mary J. Blige at the Lincoln Memorial, in a concert marking President Obama’s inauguration. …

Performances of the “The Star-Spangled Banner” at political rallies and sporting events are often bombastically staged, with American flags projected on Jumbotrons and flyovers by military jets, kitsch spectacles that aim to stir patriotism through shock and awe.

“Lean on Me” could never inspire such pomp.

That is, it could never inspire patriotism. Next time a liberal takes umbrage because their patriotism has been questioned, go ahead and burst out laughing. At this point, everyone will understand.

Here’s the best qualification of all:

The song has been inescapable during the Black Lives Matter protests, sung by demonstrators across the country, from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C., to Orlando to Morgantown, W.Va., from New Jersey to Tennessee to Missouri to Illinois.

Who knows? Black Lives Matter maniac Henry Eugene Washington might have been humming it as he murdered police officer Jonathan Shoop.

Stand by for a heavy dose of the black supremacism that is now mandatory in the liberal establishment:

“Lean on Me” is a great piece of popular music, to be specific, a supreme piece of African American pop music — which is to say, it represents the very best of this country. Not only is Black music the finest American thing, the greatest gift that the United States has given to world culture, it is one of the deepest, most truthful repositories of American history, far more honest about the failures and possibilities of the country than the triumphalist official history, which flattens the saga into a procession of Great Men, noble principles, virtuous struggles, adversity overcome, wars won, flags whipping above battlements in the sunrise.

Popular music produced by blacks is America’s greatest gift to the world. Not the Declaration of Independence. Not the US Constitution. Not the light bulb. Not the airplane. Not refrigeration. Not the telephone. Not curing polio. Not saving the world from fascism and communism. Not showing the way from darkness and misery to freedom and prosperity. Not inspiring the human race by placing a man on the moon. Simplistic pop songs.

No wonder moonbats don’t love the country enough to have any use for patriotism. They do not have the capacity to comprehend greatness. Barely able to perceive it, they want to stamp it out, because it threatens them.

To get an idea of how bleak and nauseating liberal utopia would be, imagine standing up, taking off your cap, covering your heart, and singing along with this pablum prior to a ball game:

But wait; Bill Withers was accused of domestic violence. That means he must be canceled in order to comply with #MeToo.

If only purple counted as politically preferred pigmentation. Then we could follow the recommendation at Breitbart and adopt this as our national anthem:

On tips from Henry B and Rapinhoe.