Blackhumouristpress's Blog

November 27, 2012

Thank You For Your Patience

Filed under: humor,obama,poem — blackhumouristpress @ 6:50 am
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Thank you for your patience when you’re in your car waiting in a stopped line and an Audi illegally comes racing up the right side.  He owns a car that costs more than your home, cars and timeshare.  Speaking of time, your time, he doesn’t fucking care.

Thank you for your patience when you wait at the Red Box behind the woman with the big ass who thinks she looks like Vivica Fox.  She knows your standing patiently waiting to rent Hello Kitty for your girls as she talks to herself, pops her gum and fucks with her fake Yak curls.

Thank you for your patience at the DMV.  Your number is 97 and they’re still on 23.  The angry woman behind the counter with the 80’s hair like Joan Jett, yells in the faces of foreigners who haven’t learned English yet.  Your tax dollars hard at work.  Be patient, they’ll treat you like a fucking jerk.

Thank you for your patience; your wait time is 28 minutes.  The kids are screaming, you’re driving and have reached your limit.  A human just came on the line and disconnected as you were saying hi.  Thank you for your patience, give it another try.  We’re closed now we open again tomorrow morning at nine.

Thank you for your patience with the economy.  It isn’t my fault; it was the guy before me.  There’s a lot to do constantly.  Now pardon me while I work on my legacy.

Thank you for your patience at the free hospital.  They can’t reject those uninsured, they take them all.  You may wait a full day in the lobby looking catatonic from a stroke.  This kind of shit happens when you’re broke.

Thank you for your patience is a bullshit line.  Nobody really values each other’s time.  The fucking terrorists created the TSA.  Fuck it; my flight has been cancelled anyway.  We know you have many choices and chose us to your dismay…  good luck getting home and have a nice day.

November 20, 2012

The Teague Party or Honest About Being Honest

Filed under: humor,Short Story,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 6:20 am
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Harrison Teague through Facebook, Twitter and good ole fashion word of mouth, was able to get close to a hundred people to come out and eat free sandwiches and juice at his car dealership.  Teague sold Chrysler products.  His motto for his billboards, radio and television commercials was always him smiling with a slight gap between his two front teeth saying, “We are in a Teague of our own”

Harrison Teague had good wavy hair that hadn’t grayed or thinned.  It appeared to be a helmet at times but was always impeccably coiffed.  Harrison learned early on that he could sell things to people.  He could get people who would never think about owning a Chrysler, to buy a car.  Harrison read Mein Kampf several times and watched Triumph of Will dubbed in English a number of times and had decided that like Richard Nixon, Adolph Hitler was meant to be a politician.  Just something’s went wrong along the way.

Harrison did not have anything against Jews.  Harrison used to play up the fact that Henry Ford was anti-Semitic and wind up sending Jews home in K cars back during the days of Lee Iacocca.  With four dealerships to choose from, Harrison wanted to set his sights on something bigger.

Harrison felt that there was a dormant majority of Americans that longed for the stability and security of old time values.  The Tea Party was too abrasive and too angry.  The Teague Party was going to be inclusive of Hispanics and any sensible people of color who were willing to work for a living and critically look at the poor job that congress was doing.  Harrison knew that Hitler started small and so he was not put off that his first rally at his spoken word was made up of only one hundred people.  Harrison took the podium with the fervor of Hitler and the smile and hair of Joel Osteen.  This was going to be day one of a great American movement.

“I want to thank you all for coming her today.  Enjoy the refreshments and a refreshing new day.  Don’t be despondent with the fact that your fellow Americans are content wallowing in the mire of complacency while the fat cats point more fingers and get nothing done for their constituents once again…  Which reminds me of a joke…  What did Jesus say to congress?  Can’t guess?  He said don’t do anything until I get back.  Amen to that and pass the plate.  We have exactly one more political party than the communist party used to have during the days of the Cold War in Soviet bloc countries.  You had brand A.  Here in the United States, the strongest, most powerful nation in our minds, we have brand A and brand B.  We keep turning to the two same options for years.  Oh I know there exists smaller parties bent on obscurity that thrives on the fact that their boutique political views are held and shared by a small group of intellectuals that get them.  Where does that get us?  You work and where does your money go?  To build roads that don’t need to be built.  To house people who have turned relief into a birth rite and we fund a war that is borderline ridiculous.  Speaking of borderline…  So we send our boys to fight a war in a part of the world that resembles the moon.  People running around dressed the way Jesus Christ did before he told congress to hold up.  Stay with me…  This is getting good.  Now we are trying to save the hearts and minds of people who side with us when convenient and then the Taliban when there is a gun to their heads.  The group of people we are fighting are waiting in a neighboring country that has been supported by us monetarily by your tax dollars since the days the Soviets were fighting in Afghanistan.  This country was our ally in fighting the evil empire.  Now they harbor our enemy in the great fight to end misogyny, tyranny, and terrorism and over all great evil in a part of the world nobody ever thought about unless they were thumbing through a National Geographic.  Today I want you all to pledge that you will make it your life’s quest to recapture, not restore or return America to it’s former greatness.  Do I care about abortion?  Do I care if a man wants to marry another man?  If you need an abortion, pay for it.  You take up with god later the consequences of your actions.  Don’t ask the people to foot the bill as if it was some sort of sanctioned, state funded birth control.  Roe versus wade?  Row yourselves out of this quagmire of complacency and wade through this sea of arrested intellectual development.  Translation- wake up and do something.  One man, one woman.  It starts with one.  One and one and one and another one and then another one and then an army of people who care to change the way life is in their country.  This is your country.  Not the Democrats and not the Republicans.

Now the press will latch onto this and label it another far right, wacko fringe group made up of angry fiscal conservatives who are slightly racist, sexist and homophobic.  Any gays who value their dollar are welcome to join us.  Any race of people who make their money and value keeping as much of their money as possible- this is your party.  Sexist?  Teague needs women.  Smart, savvy, aware women everywhere, we are waiting for you.  My pledge to you as a representative of ideals and beliefs is that we will form a party of the people for the people within the next four years and I pledge to you that we will become a viable alternative to the same old thing.  Are you with me?”

Agnes or Agniewska laid beside Harrison later that night and went to retrieve a towel to mop up the spew that landed on her back and was glistening on his rock solid abdomen and thighs.  Agnes thought highly of her employer who paid her in cash to watch is two children.  She agreed with Harrison that his wife was mean and that she just didn’t appreciate or get him.  Harrison’s two young sons really loved her and she knew that Harrison fancied her quite a bit.  While Harrison was deep in thought and his cock laid slightly flaccid, resting on his right thigh, Agnes took a warm, wet towel and cleaned him up.  Agnes was in the back of the room when Harrison gave his speech, handing out free Jimmy John sandwiches to those willing to hear him.  Agnes, being smart and a realist, posed the question of how Harrison will handle their affair when the time comes that the press will dig through his life like archeologists.

“Oh I’m already on that.  The people of this country have to quit acting so fucking pious.  Presidents, governors, mayors, generals, the head of the CIA all hold their heads down in shame.  In Italy, nobody wonders why these things happen.  They only wonder why they don’t happen.  It’s time America comes to grips with the fact that people are really not being honest about being honest…  If you go to check on the kids, bring back some water.  I’m really parched.  If we have any extra sandwiches, bring that back too.”

November 6, 2012

We Have Black Friends or For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge

Filed under: Ethnicity,humor,Mixed Race,obama,Oprah,Short Story — blackhumouristpress @ 11:00 am
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The Thames, pronounced “temz” just like the famous river in England, was lying in bed in their bedroom, each watching their own television.  It was like watching television at an appliance store.  One would have to filter out the other sounds in order to focus on their own program.  A marriage counselor recommended that in order to preserve their marriage and spend more time together, that they purchase two televisions and watch television separate but equal…  I heard that term somewhere else.

Tim Thames was watching Monday Night Football while Tammy Thames was watching Dancing With The Stars.  Tim thought the show was stupid and he concluded that if he were coached eight hours a day, he too could prance about like Gene Kelly.  Dancing was for weddings.  Watching men in tight pants writhe around on freezing tundra, was much more to his liking.  Tammy didn’t hate football, in fact she would occasionally peek at this guy or that guy and marvel at how tight and round their asses were.  Some men looked as though they had canned hams strapped to their buttocks, under Lycra.  It never mattered to Tammy who won or who was playing.

Tammy received a text message while lying in bed next to Tim.  It was a commercial break and she had been admiring football player ass when the message came in from their friends The Whites.

William and Hilary White, were black and as much as people wanted to call them Bill and Hilary, William corrected people.  His name was William and not Will, Willy, Bill or Billy.  William was his grandfather’s name who came from Kingston, Jamaica.  William thought of himself as an English gent of the Caribbean, a modern day Sidney Poitier.  Hilary was an attractive black woman with a pretty smile and a fantastic ass.  How they became friends oddly enough was through the sport of ice hockey.  Their two sons who are now in college, played youth hockey together for many years.  For over ten years, they woke up early and drove their boys to practices and games and then drank in hotel hallways and lounges together.  The White’s son was always the one black player on the hockey team.  It made the other whites, not to be confused with The Whites, feel as though they were tolerant and accepting of other races and cultures by the mere fact that they had black friends; The Whites.  Tim and Tammy often threw that out among other whites.

“Our good friends, The Whites…  Who are really black…  I mean African-American, will be at the party too.”

And so on…

Hilary had sent a text inviting Tim and Tammy to their house to watch the election results and sip some red wine that they picked up at a winery in Germany.  The Whites took a vacation and toured wineries near the French border in Germany.  William had whispered to his wife while taste testing Riesling in Germany, “Hitler must be rolling over in his grave.  Two American blacks drinking prized German wine and being served like servants by members of the master race…  It doesn’t get any better than this…”

William and Tim were both very outspoken no-it-alls and alcohol and vast knowledge often led to fights.  William was a supporter of the president and Tim was a supporter of Romney.  Wine with opposing political views pointed towards an interesting evening.

“I see you’ve texted Hilary back.  Have you already committed us to going to their place again?  In 2008, you didn’t tell me that their extended family was going to be sitting around the living room, crying and hugging each other after Obama won.  I had to pretend like I was happy too and I wasn’t,” said Tim.

“Why?  Because it was the symbolic decline of the American white male?  An attractive black man becomes president and white men are threatened,” said Tammy.

“Denzel Washington is an attractive black man.  The president is not.  The president looks like…  A monkey.”  Said Tim.

“Now that is perfect.  Our president is a simian.  How very Klanish of you,” said Tammy.

“If he looked like a fucking aardvark, I would tell you that.  To me, he resembles a monkey.  I’ll agree that he is smooth and self confident but I don’t agree that he is attractive,” said Tim.

Strangely enough, once while having sex with each other for possibly the 10,000 times since the first time in the back seat of a car during college, Tim fantasized about being behind Michelle Obama and Tammy fantasized that the man behind her was the commander-in-chief.  Tim and Tammy were prone to a lot of talking during sex.  It was also the counselor’s opinion that they connect more with each other while having sex in the form of verbally relaying their pleasure with one another.  There would be rhetorical questions such as, “Who owns this pussy? Or who wants this pussy?”.  On a night when neither of them was saying much, they both had thoughts about fucking the first lady and the president while fucking each other.  Both Tim and Tammy had given thought to fucking William and Hilary but never discussed it with each other.  Both had accused the other of being a little too inviting in their body language, tone of voice and smiles with the Whites.

“George Bush was an unattractive man and you never said a word about how he looks.  Why is it that you have yet to come to grips with the fact that our president is black?”  Asked Tammy.

“I don’t care about how white he really is while appearing to be black.  Our president was raised by his grandparents just like most black kids are today.  The difference is that he was raised by white people in Hawaii and he went to Harvard.  He comes off as some native of Chicago and he is about as much a Chicagoan as he is truly black…  Be all that as it is, I don’t want to be around a bunch of gloating black people if Obama wins re-election.  I don’t want to pretend I voted for Obama too just so that I don’t appear racist.  Whites and I don’t mean William and Hilary; still make up 65% of this country.  If whites don’t vote for the president, he isn’t going to be president.  I’m tired of hearing how racist whites still are.  Nobody tried to kill the president and whites overwhelmingly voted for a blackish man,” said Tim.

“Blackish?  Like brackish?  You really are racist and have not come to grips with it.  We live in an all white neighborhood with a smattering of Indians and Koreans and you work with white people in another all white area and people of color make you uncomfortable.  Face it so you can begin to accept it,” said Tammy.

“That sounds like some kind of Oprah-esque brainwashing.  Unless you go out and hold hands with queers and people of all other colors other than your own, you’re racist and homophobic.  I have voted Republican since Reagan when I was a senior in high school.  I voted once for Perot and felt like an asshole after doing it so I will most likely vote Republican until I die.  Not because they are the white party as much as they are not the party to worry and cater to those who don’t wish to do for themselves, don’t care if queers want to fuck up their lives with marriage and hand out money for abortions.  Today if fags want to get abortions, nobody really cares.  People are worried about losing their jobs and homes.  Everything else is not important.  With unemployment still up and the housing market still flat, I don’t see what has happened in the last four years that would make me want to vote for Obama.  Call me racist or call me a realist.  I hope you’re not voting for him because Oprah told you to or because you think he is more attractive than Romney.  I hope you are not fearful of Mormons and for that reason voting for a man who might be a closet Muslim,” said Tim.

“If you don’t want to go, I will simply tell them we are staying home,” said Tammy with folded arms.

“No, we’re going.  They will totally think I made you not go.  I have a gun to my head on this one.  I will go and I will not boast and beat my chest if Romney wins but don’t expect me to cry and bring up Rosa Parks with their relatives if Obama wins.  I don’t want to argue with William either.  I cannot believe he would argue with me over the word fuck.  It most definitely means, for unlawful carnal knowledge and not fornication under consent of the king.  He still believes he is a subject of the queen because he was born in Kingston.  The queen doesn’t give a shit about Jamaica unless she’s looking for a bottle of rum,” said Tim.

Tammy flicked off the light and turned off both televisions.  She turned on her side away from Tim and did not say goodnight.  Tim felt bad and put his hand on his wife’s shoulder.  He kissed her softly on the neck and told her that none of that stuff really mattered to him and that finding the person best suited for his life was what really mattered most to him.  Tammy turned towards Tim.  The nice, unsolicited words just put her in the mood.  Tim wrapped his arms around his wife and he began to massage her cold and pimply butt cheeks while kissing her.  They made love as they had many, many times in the past.  Tim then rolled over and immediately began to fall asleep.  A good fucking for Tim was like giving a baby a bottle of milk.  Tim was ready to sleep.  Tammy on the other hand was wide-awake.  She could feel Tim’s hand getting heavy around her waist.  She thought that she should probably say something before Tim truly fell asleep.

“Honey?”

“Hmm?”

“I need to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Would you say my ass is as nice as Hilary’s or Michelle Obama’s?”

Tim didn’t want to come off as a liar or have his wife think that he was lying even though he was about to lie.  Michelle Obama and Hilary both looked like they had canned hams for buttocks.  Asses that could support drinks and so on.  Tim wanted to sleep and he wanted Tammy to sleep too.  He had to think quickly.  He leaned in and kissed his wife under her ear.

“In this age when men need Viagra.  I never need a boost when it comes to you.  You still give me a full metal jacket after all these years.  I still feel like an admiral of a beautiful ship when I get behind you…  I’d rather have your ass than any others.”

Tammy bought the nice words and Tim fell fast asleep.  They will be watching the election results with the Whites tonight.   How about you?

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