Blackhumouristpress's Blog

June 19, 2019

Going Against the Grain

Marsha wept as she rhetorically asked John where they went wrong with their son Gore. Gore seems like a crazy Goth name to give to their son at the time but actually he was named after Al Gore. Around the time of the 2000 elections, Marsha stopped dressing like Siouxie from Siouxie and the Banchees. She made John start dressing like a man who could make money instead of a over grown kid in ripped jeans and offensive Punk shirts from their high school days.

 

Marsha was a stay at home mom and the head of the PTO while John became a realtor. They had a swell home and every five years, they bought one that was even bigger and more expensive. They raised Gore to respect people of all colors and to not make fun of fat children or over the top effeminate men, not torture small animals ect… Marsha was way ahead of her time back in the early 2000’s. She explained that we are all equal in god’s eyes even though Marsha decided that there was no god. Marsha was raised Catholic but rebelled in high school. It was about the time she wore Doc Marten boots with her Catholic school skirt, died her hair jet-black and wore black lipstick. John met Marsha at a Black Flag show and fell madly in love with her. They had so much in common. They hated their parents, society, Ronald Reagan, Michael Jackson and Madonna. They were against anything that their post World War II parents were for but over time like most Americans- they had to get on board, become a cog in the wheel of the dynamo that is these United States.

Gore was against everything that his parents were for too. John and Marsha were Chicago Cubs fans and Gore liked the White Sox. John and Marsha liked their Punk Music from the 1980’s and Gore liked Country. John and Marsha got paunchy and sedentary and Gore ate healthy as a teenager and lifted weights until he was the biggest and strongest guy in the school. Gore wrestled, played football and ice hockey. John and Marsh had been anti-jock back in the day.

Gore had a graduation party with friends that were going off to the military or college. They hunted and owned rifles. They drove American cars and trucks. They all seemed more at home in Nebraska than suburban Chicago. Gore took off his shirt before jumping in the family pool. On his back was a tattoo the length of his back that had Donald Trump making the “OK” sign with a circle between the thumb and index finger. Trump is wearing a suit with a red tie and is winking. It read- Donald Trump 45th president of the United States of America. Made America great again.

 

Marsha was horrified. Her girlfriends from something called the “Fight Club”, a group of moms angry about the election and their husbands were in attendance. The members of the fight club sat drinking wine and eating chips with dip. They had been talking about mundane things until they could not help noticing Gore looking like an underwear model with his shirt off. He was a like a Greek statue with a six pack, strong arms and chest. What was tattooed to his back sent them heading for the exit. The moms protested the president by wearing cat hats downtown. They had lawn signs that said things like love is love and no human is illegal and science is real. There was no way they were staying any longer at the party.  Marsha was horrified and filled with anxiety of what might happen next.

Sitting in a lawn chair with a Fedora hat on, holding a beer was an old man. It was the father of Martha. The moms all left close to suddenly and said nothing to Martha other than they needed to go. Martha worried that one of them might go on an open forum of suburban moms and let everyone know that her son was a pariah, a xenophobe, homophobe, misogynistic racist, a Trump loving… Republican. Marsha was tearing eyed as boys and girls jumped into the pool listening to hillbilly music. Her father laughed. She turned to him and asked what possibly could be funny.

“Oh I was just thinking about when you brought John over for Christmas dinner way back when. He had a safety pin through his face and his Mohawk was orange. He wore a t shirt with cut off sleeves… I’ll never forget that shirt. It said Killing Joke and underneath it was the pope on a German military truck being given a Nazi salute by German soldiers on both sides. My mom, being a woman who never missed mass, cried for a month when John Kennedy was killed. She got up and left. She couldn’t believe that I let you date that guy. She told me that I had to stop you. How likely was that? Well you married him.”

“And what is so funny to you exactly? That my friends are going to make me wear a scarlet letter by posting shit on the internet?”

“Come now… You can’t control your kids entirely. They go against the grain… I think you should get a tattoo of Bernie Sanders shrugging his shoulders with the caption- What Hath God Wrought.”

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January 17, 2019

Absurd

Filed under: america,Ethnicity,fast food,humor,humour,obesity,pope,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 5:40 pm
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Sitting in a fast food palace, wall to wall plastic

Maury giving a bro hug to a man on the tube that is the father of his daughter’s child… Wild? No. In a word-absurd.

 

A man with a blue tooth devise attached to his ear goes table to table selling Krispy Kreme donuts on the side, on the slide, trading a burger for a box of donuts. Nuts? No. In a word-absurd.

 

The people behind the counter move slow… You know the type- Type 2 diabetes, cherub faced sweeties with no neck, nails like claws, sagging draws and lashes long enough to tickle your face. Bad taste? No. In a word- Absurd

 

The heroin addict with the sad look and a sign by the freeway is doing just fine. He pulls out a fat wad of cash, eyes bloodshot from smoking some hash to clear his mind and face the day. A # 2 with a large Coke… Is this all some sort of joke? No. In a word-Absurd.

September 28, 2015

Bigger Than the Beatles or The Pope Meets ISIS

Filed under: humor,humour,ISIS,pope,Short Story,trump — blackhumouristpress @ 3:39 am
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The pope was told jokingly in Spanish during his tour of the United States, “Your holiness, as you can see…  You are bigger than the Beatles.”  The joke made Pope Francis laugh as he was a Beatles fan and remembered the John Lennon quote, “We are bigger than Jesus.”  As throngs of well-wishers lined streets to see the pope in America, the land of Morey Povich and the Kardashians, one could not discount the fact that the head of the Catholic Church was on a roll.  He is the people’s pope.  He speaks plainly and might be the coming of the anti-Trump.  Who could stop the pope now from speaking freely?  Would it be so wrong to get people to stop, take a step back and think about things?  The pope was talked into visiting the Crimea and North Korea.  Those that booked the pope’s world tour knew that those events would be very interesting.  The ultimate stop would be to address ISIS in occupied areas along the border of Iraq and Syria.  Being so popular and a representative of a prophet, the religious leaders behind the political struggle politely agreed to allow the pope to speak to them.  Picture this: a five foot high stage in the middle of nowhere, as desolate as the moon with thousands of men with covered faces listened to the pope speak in Arabic.  The pope worked on his speech while on the plane and was coached on how to pronounce every word necessary.  Accent aside, the ISIS fighters were impressed.  This is how the speech went-

“You are the face of its people, their representatives. You are called to defend and preserve the dignity of your fellow citizens in the tireless and demanding pursuit of the common good, for this is the chief aim of all politics. When countries which have been at odds resume the path of dialogue — a dialogue which may have been interrupted for the most legitimate of reasons — new opportunities open up for all. This has required, and requires, courage and daring, which is not the same as irresponsibility. A good political leader is one who, with the interests of all in mind, seizes the moment in a spirit of openness and pragmatism.”

There was no polite clapping as the pope paused.  The pope thought about the Yazidi women being rounded up for slavery and men being killed.  The clips he saw of people being shot in the head and beheaded.  Being a student of history, he thought about the inquisition and thought he should comment on the parallels.

“If I can speak freely…  There was a time when the church set out to convert people, to change people, to save people from their customs and their beliefs.  Was it right?  Maybe for the time, it was.  Given what is happening now am I given license to say what is right and wrong?  I think god will have to decide this for us all.”

The pope looked out at the crowd.  It was a large crowd that was mesmerized by his words.  Pope Francis thought about Hitler’s Triumph of Will.  If you take away the message, the choice of words is what moved the crowd.  The pope stopped speaking and looked over the heads of the hooded and masked fighters who weren’t sure how to react to the idea of the head of the infidels was addressing them.  The pope had their attention.  The pope went on.

“A delicate balance is required to combat violence perpetrated in the name of a religion, an ideology or an economic system, while also safeguarding religious freedom, intellectual freedom and individual freedoms. But there is another temptation which we must especially guard against: the simplistic reductionism which sees only good or evil; or, if you will, the righteous and sinners. The contemporary world, with its open wounds which affect so many of our brothers and sisters, demands that we confront every form of polarization which would divide it into these two camps. We know that in the attempt to be freed of the enemy without, we can be tempted to feed the enemy within. To imitate the hatred and violence of tyrants and murderers is the best way to take their place. That is something which you, as a people, reject.

Our response must instead be one of hope and healing, of peace and justice.”

Even in Arabic, it was a highly decorated way of getting a thought across.  Combat violence in the name of religion while safeguarding religious freedom…  I’m with you…Intellectual freedom and individual freedoms…  Say what?!

”Being at the service of dialogue and peace also means being truly determined to minimize and, in the long term, to end the many armed conflicts throughout our world. Here we have to ask ourselves: Why are deadly weapons being sold to those who plan to inflict untold suffering on individuals and society? Sadly, the answer, as we all know, is simply for money: money that is drenched in blood, often innocent blood. In the face of this shameful and culpable silence, it is our duty to confront the problem and to stop the arms trade.”

The pope lifted his papers and straightened them up by bouncing them against the podium while wind howled in the distance.  Pope Francis lifted his hand to wave goodbye and smiled.  A few men politely waved back while others did nothing.  The pope got into a bullet proof Range Rover and headed to the airport.  All he could think was that sometimes, somethings just don’t go over very well.  The pope looked pensive as the plane he was on flew towards Italy and ultimately the Vatican.  The question was asked of the pope, “How do you think it went?”  The pope didn’t answer immediately.  He rubbed his chin, smiled and answered the question with a question.  “How big were the Beatles in Iraq and Syria?”  Only the pope laughed.

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