Bill Carter, a media analyst for CNN, covered the television industry for The New York Times for 25 years, and has written four books on TV, including "The Late Shift" and "The War for Late Night." The opinions expressed in this commentary are his own. View more opinion at CNN.

That's the one where politicians decide which serving of righteous outrage they'd like to select, based on their personal (and ideological) tastes.

Hot upon a surge of unexpected sensitivity about racial stereotypes, brought on by the bizarre outbreak of Democrats admitting to having worn blackface in Virginia, conservatives found it irresistible this week to order up a heaping helping of indignation at the new Minnesota Democratic representative, Ilhan Omar, over her inflammatory tweets about Israel, Jewish-Americans and money:

"It's all about the Benjamins, baby," is how she cavalierly -- and disturbingly -- put it.

Rep. Omar earned the measure of opprobrium she received for an observation rife with anti-Semitic connotations: Even granting the legitimacy of policy-based critiques of the Israeli government, suggestions that pro-Israel positions are being bought with Jewish money inevitably conjure up ugly associations to treacherous fear-mongering about imaginary Jewish business cabals determining the fate of nations.

And Rep. Omar was indeed quickly upbraided by members of her own party. That led to her public apology -- also on Twitter -- which recognized the corrosive impact of her words: "I am grateful to Jewish allies and colleagues who are educating me on the painful history of anti-Semitic tropes."

Those were the worthwhile steps to take, by both the representative and her Democratic colleagues. But they were hardly enough for many on the right, who, undoubtedly lacerated by a long, ongoing litany of accusations of bigotry against conservatives, sought to exact a bit of revenge.

Nobody used the exact phrase, "Remember Steve King" (a la the Alamo or the Maine), but the connection got made -- overtly.

Vice President Pence decided to lead the charge by calling Rep. Omar's tweets "a disgrace" and her apology "inadequate." He insisted she should "face consequences" and "at minimum" Democrats should remove her from committee assignments, because, he noted, that was the action that Republicans took with Rep. King last month.

The right to free speech is never abridged in America, so Pence and the other voices on the right who have taken up the cause of making Rep. Omar a pariah -- like the House minority leader, Kevin McCarthy -- are free to use the opportunity of her broad jump into the bear trap of anti-Semitic comments to try to even the score on "consequences" for bigotry.

But the effort only opens the door to a full consideration of just how selective this display of moral outrage truly is. (McCarthy himself has never apologized for a tweet widely denounced as redolent of anti-Semitism).

The comparison to Steve King is the most obvious evidence of an egregious stretch. For his entire tenure in Congress -- and in his previous elected positions -- King has been repeatedly accused of engaging in bigotry. No stranger to charges of anti-Semitism himself (the ADL sent a letter condemning him for smearing the Jewish Democratic donor George Soros), the list of his other dalliances with racist positions and white nationalist leaders is rather extensive.

Yet it took the Republican leadership in Congress more than 15 years to condemn any of King's ugly views. In the intervening years, he was appointed a committee chairman, praised endlessly by Republican leadership and his endorsement was widely and warmly sought after by presidential hopefuls. Unlike Omar, he never apologized, not even for his most recent descent into bigotry: questioning why the idea of white supremacy should even be considered offensive.

That question was the rhetorical last straw that led to the first bout of "consequences" he had ever faced from Republican leadership. Instead of any hint of apology, King scurried to hide behind the shopworn excuse of media bias as a defense; this week, rather than finding some path toward expiation, he was touting the support of religious leaders as reason to have his committee assignments reinstated.

Notably, President Trump, who was in a fevered rush to assail Rep. Omar's comments and say she should resign from Congress , had no reaction at all last month to Steve King's similar situation, saying he hadn't "followed" that particular story.

What's going on now might be labeled "modified, limited outrage," a term not too dissimilar from one made famous in a previous Republican administration. With an opponent of the President speaking out in a way that many found offensive, it was suddenly deemed the right time to release the hounds of umbrage.

And maybe the reason those hounds are now baying at such volume is that they have been shackled up in the Republican basement for the past two or three years. Though examples of offensive bigotry have abounded, no previous provocation could induce Republican leadership to let them out:

Not charges that an American judge was too "Mexican" to render fair decisions.

Not a proposed ban on travelers to the US based solely on their religion.

Not a Star of David imposed over a pile of money in a pro-Trump campaign ad.

Not the assertion that "many fine people" populated a rally marked by chants of "blood and soil" and "Jews will not replace us."

Not praise for a Senate candidate who had worn a Confederate cap and once volunteered to be in the front row of a "public hanging."

Not repeated mocking references to Pocahontas nor the massacre at Wounded Knee nor a "joke" about the Native American genocide known as the Trail of Tears.

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Not calling an NFL player a "son of a bitch" nor insulting the intelligence of the greatest basketball player in the world.

Not repeatedly dismissing a black congresswoman as having an "extraordinarily low IQ."

Despite all those instances of irresponsible, insensitive, and bigoted comments, none of the people in high dudgeon at Ilhan Omar's comments about Israel spoke out about them -- even in low dudgeon. There was no dudgeon at all.

And nobody calling for resignations.

Moral outrage always makes politicians feel good, except maybe for the bruises on their chest from all that breast-beating. But isn't there a point at which you lose your standing to pronounce judgment on what constitutes moral outrage? And isn't that point the moment you base your umbrage not on principle, but only on whose ox you'd prefer to deplore?