Blackhumouristpress's Blog

May 18, 2017

Yelping Mr. Trump

Reince Priebius woke early and got to bathroom and plopped down to
relieve himself before anyone else in his family woke.  While sitting
on the commode, Reince scrolled through dozens and dozens of negative
Yelp reviews attached to President Trump.  It was explained to the
president that the people who run Yelp, had a love affair with the
previous president.  It was no mistake that Obama had 4 ½ stars and
that Trump stood at ½ of one star.  Reince, Ivanka and his son-in-law
Jared Kushner all tried to convince the president to ignore the fact
that all the negative reviews were readily available for the public to
read and that the positive ones were hidden from view.  What was the
reason for so many positive reviews hidden from sight?  The positive
reviewers were new to Yelp and to the political arena and so their
point of views were not taken into serious consideration.  The
president spent all day working, occasionally taking time to eat some
ice cream or play Golf a little, but mostly studying political shows,
reading papers, getting briefs and meetings after meetings.  Most
people’s heads would explode by the fact that at all hours of the day,
there were several things going on at once.  Picture a plumber fixing
a leaking pipe and with each repair, two or three more leaks surface.
A weaker person would rationalize that maybe someone else should do
the plumbing and beat their head against the wall trying to repair
only to be mired in a sloppy mess.  Late night when everyone or at
least most people were sleeping, the president would read up on his
Yelp reviews and would rebut in the wee hours of the morning.

I DIDN’T VOTE FOR THE PRESIDENT AND REALLY ANYONE THAT DID IS A
COMPLETE BACKWARD IDIOT.  IT’S PLAIN TO SEE THAT THIS MAN IS A PUPPET
OF THE RUSSIANS.  OUR ELECTION HAS BEEN HACKED BY THE RUSSIANS AND THE
CABINET HAS BEEN FILLED WITH LAP DOGS FOR PUTIN.  IT’S OBVIOUS TO
EVERYONE THAT THIS IS ANOTHER WATERGATE- RACHEL, WASHINGTON D.C.

IS THIS THE SAME RACHEL FROM MSNBC?  IS IT?  LET’S JUST SAY IT COULD
BE.  HACK?  YOU WANNA USE THE WORD HACK.  THE ENTIRE PRESS OF THE
COUNTRY SAVE VERY FEW OUTLETS IS RUN BY LYING, SLAVENLY HACKS WHO PASS
OF THEIR OWN AGENDA FOR NEWS.  COLLUSION?  ABSOLUTELY.  THE DNC,
CLINTONS, OBAMA, RICE, COMEY, CLAPPER, SLAPPER, BEATER AND WHACKER…
HAVE I LEFT ANYONE OUT IN THIS CIRCLE JERKING GOLDEN SHOWER OF HITS?
YOU GIVE ME ONE STAR?  I GIVE YOU A SINGLE FINGER SALUT.

Reince continued to sit on the toilet, toes tingling and his butt
cheeks nearly asleep as he scrolled over dozens of replies to negative
comments written nearly anonymously to the public.  Reince knew it was
cowardly and hard to combat.  Reince’s opinion was just to ignore it
all and go about the business of trying to fix the immense issues of
this country.

AFTER THERAPY AND LOOKING FOR A JOB AND PLACE TO LIVE IN CANADA, I’VE
DECIDED THAT THIS IS MY COUNTRY AND I NEED TO FIGHT FOR MY COUNTRY AND
STOP ANY AND ALL WHO BELIEVE THAT TRUMP IS THEIR PRESIDENT.  THE
PRESIDENT MUST BE STOPPED EVERYWHERE POSSIBLE AND THERE IS AN ARMY OF
TRUE AMERICANS LIKE ME WHO WILL ENSURE THAT IMMIGRANTS CAN LIVE AMONG
US, LGBT, PROGRESSIVES, PRO-CHOICE AND SO ON.  YOU WILL BE STOPPED,
SIR.  I CAN’T GIVE YOU NO STARS BUT I WOULD LIKE TO. TERRY, SEATTLE,
WASHINGTON.

TERRY.  I’M ENVISIONING A MAN AND A WOMAN ALMOST EQUALLY, HIDDEN
BEHIND A CARNIVAL MASK, PUNCHING VETERANS AT TRUMP RALLIES, STOPPING
CONSERVATIVE SPEAKERS FROM EXPRESSING THEIR CONSTITUIONAL RIGHT TO
FREE SPEECH ON COLLEGE CAMPUSES THAT RECEIVE GOVERNMENT FUNDS. WHEN
I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS WHOLE DOG AND PONY SHOW OVER WHETHER I SHOULD
BE IMPEACHED OR NOT, I’LL GO GET THAT FAT CHILD IN NORTH KOREA, PARADE
HIM AROUND WITH A BALL GAG AND THEN THROW HIM THE IN SAME PRISON
GENERAL NOREIGA LIVED IN SOME TWENTY YEARS AGO.  I HAVEN’T EVEN ROLLED
UP MY SLEEVES YET TO UNDO THE MESS DROPPED AT MY FEET.  DON’T GET IN
FRONT OF A TRAIN.  YOU CAN’T STOP IT OR SLOW IT DOWN BUT YOU CAN GET
MOWED OVER.  TRUMP IS  COMMANDER AND THE CHEF AND BELIEVE ME, YOU
WON’T WANT WHAT DADDY’S GOT COOKING.

“Good morning, Mr. President…  Yes, I should be in within the hour.
Tell me, sir…  What time did you go to sleep last night? 2:30 ish
eastern time?  Wow…  I don’t know how you do it, sir.  It’s not even
6am…  Sir, if you could mull this around before I get in and we can
discuss it further…  When you get back from oversees, we should really
plan an American road trip.  Visit the heartland.  Stir the base up.
Nuremburg style rallies with millions of supporters in cities like
Tulsa or Louisville.  Give it some thought, sir.  You’re at your best
when you’re surrounded by those that truly love you… “

September 28, 2016

The New House of Un-American Activities

In the year 2021 after the national elections that gave Hillary Clinton her second term, a committee was formed within the Democratic Party dominant House of Representatives called The New House of Un-American Activities. The committee was created to prevent racism, xenophobia, misogynistic and Islamicphobic behavior in the private work place.
Rutherford J. Mann, was hauled in after a questionable speech to shareholders. Mann, a former Marine who used the GI bill to get himself through college, excelled in the workplace and became a CFO of a major fortune 500 company. After a few too many drinks on a day when the stock price for his particular company under his watch, shot up, Mr. Mann spoke freely. He never refrained after that day. His candor lead to problems between he and the government. Why the antisocial behavior? Was it the fact that the stock tripled in a short period of time? Was it that this was the third time he laid his hand upon a struggling company and turned it to gold? Was it because he was an old, white male? Probably all of the above. His manic, plain speaking speech landed him in front of the New House of Un-American Activities.

Rep Jefferson- Good afternoon Mr. Mann… Do you understand why you stand before us today?
Mann- I have an idea why but I don’t think anyone who is forced before this tribunal ever knows for sure.
Rep Washington- Please clarify, Mr. Mann.
Mann- There are many agendas out there and something such as this witch hunt is born somewhere for some reason. Where it originates and why is probably unimportant as it is truly Un-American.

A few laughs from the press and the viewing gallery caused the gavel to be hammered by Representative Adams of New York.

Rep. Adams- Mr. Mann are you now or have you ever been subversive?
Mann- Please explain what that would mean exactly.
Rep. Jackson- One who would be unwilling to temporarily allow refugees from war-torn areas, shelter in one of their many secondary residences when the law specifically states that private property that is not of primary residence, must be made available to house refugees. This is a right afforded all refugees under the law who are in the process of becoming naturalized citizens. I believe it has come to light that you paid relatives to occupy your secondary homes in Maine, Florida, Hawaii, California and Aspen to skirt the law… We have emails regarding payments that were made to various relatives… I quote, “I would just as soon burn down these places than let recruits sleep in my beds.” Recruits? What would they have been recruits for exactly?
Mann- Um… The Democrat Party most likely…
Rep. Washington- The sums of money you have donated to what has been determined to be subversive causes is impressive. Racist, xenophobic fronts abound and as a wealthy donor, you must know that giving to these causes makes you a defacto bigot. A lot has been improved an eliminated over the years. Citizen policing boards to ensure no profiling of any sector of the public ever occurs again within the ranks of our police officers. The Common Access Act which provides that anybody of any gender can and must be allowed access to areas formerly reserved for specific genders… Men only. Women only… This is not much different from colored only. Reactionary subversion cannot be tolerated. We are a tolerant and educated people that take equality for all seriously… So with this said we will read off a list of your charges.
Rep. Harrison- “Stand and piss the way god intended men to do. Piss on the seat, the rim and floor. Let them all know a man was there and don’t apologize for being a man…” This was recorded April of 2018 at an airport in Dallas. “Women get all riled up over the word Cunt… You get a bitch hormonally unbalanced due to bleeding monthly or when the tap gets shut down and we should be able to read a situation at all times or we are oblivious… Is it any wonder dad always looked like a defeated veteran of a foreign war most the time? He went to war daily and lost. He couldn’t discuss it with you because you were idolized by the enemy… Where did women like Margret Thatcher go? You have this crazy cunt giving the farm away and letting anyone steal the crops and claims it’s owed to them…” Which crazy cunt would you be referring to, Mr. Mann? This was recorder June of 2020 in an elevator of your company.
Mr. Mann took a sip of water and winced as if it was cheap vodka going down hard. He ran his index finger around his collar and then replied.
Mann- my people were once farmers. I might have meant my grandmother was giving away the farm as the saying goes but I don’t recall the comment and quite possibly it may have been taken out of context. The urination comment was directed at a man who had disc surgery to his back and could not sit and urinate properly. The comment must be noted that the man to whom I was speaking was in great pain and had difficulty sitting and urinating as is now law but a law which is difficult to police for many reasons… Is that all?
Rep. Washington- Not even half done… Comments here which I must refrain from reading because they are so offensive. Comments about different races, religions, over weight people and the government. You believe and have publicly stated that the government is on the wrong track and that we are all being led down a path to destruction. All are very serious… I am going to recommend that Mr. Mann be added to the growing list of subversives that have already been identified and added to the list. Unless we as diligent Americans step forward and cut out these cancers that surround us, we will return to the way it was back in 2008 and I don’t think any of us in good faith could want that for this country.

So what became of Mr. Mann? He took his severance package and went to live out the rest of his days in Argentina. Years later a reporter for a television show in the United States found the former American on his ranch in rural Argentina. He was hunted down like a former Nazi doctor and questioned from the fence of his ranch as he sat upon his horse. “Do you have a comment for Americans at home that wonder what has become of you?” Mann rubbed his scruff, pushed back his silver hair and said, “If I lived in a house with no windows and only two doors leading nowhere… I’d get the fuck out of that house anyway I could.”

July 30, 2016

Questions to a White Dad from His Black Daughter

Every dad, everywhere, is bombarded by questions by their young children.  Sometimes the questions are things overlooked by adults like why don’t we fly or why don’t we breathe water?  Are you the smartest man in the world?  Are you the strongest man in the world?  What were you doing in the bedroom when you pulled the covers up on you and momma, really fast?
At a commercial break on a kid’s show, this dad checked the weather, baseball scores and then put on cable news.  The screen flashed a sound bite from Hillary, her vice presidential candidate Tim Kaine and then Donald Trump.  Images of the murderers of a priest in a church in France flashed and then a Black Lives Matter protest.  The daughter got bored with the soup du jour of the political world.
daughter- daddy?
dad- hmm?
daughter- can we watch the Power Puff Girls again?
dad- of course…  I just get scared when you watch commercials.  I find myself going to Toys R Us too often then.
daughter- do you watch anything else except this stuff about Hillary and Donald Trump?
dad- you know I watch baseball and hockey…  I also watch shows on Cartoon Network with you.
daughter- do you like Teen TItans?
dad- they make me laugh.  Do you like politics?
daughter- nope.  Momma says that only an idiot would vote for Donald Trump.  Are you going to vote for him?
dad- if I vote for Trump, are you going to call me an idiot?
daughter- nope.
dad- if momma votes for Hillary, I wouldn’t call her blind.
daughter- blonde?
dad- yes…
daughter- how can momma be blonde?  She’s a black woman.  Black women don’t have blonde hair.
dad- I think there are black women that dye their hair blonde.
daughter- momma wouldn’t do that… daddy?
dad- yes…
daughter- what’s it like to be a man?
dad- wow…  that’s a tough question.  It’s like being a serious boy.  I still feel like a boy but I know I’m not anymore.
daughter- I would say you act like a boy still.
dad- thank you…
daughter- do you like being white?
dad- oh boy…  You got some deep questions today…  I like being who I am and being a man who is white is okay with me.  I like who I am.  I wish I was more handsome and taller.
daughter- the kids at school said that I’m black because I’m tanner than the white kids.
dad- your dad is white and your mom is black.  That makes you both.  People can say whatever they want but you will always be both.  You are one of the prettiest girls in the world.  I’ve seen a lot of girls so I know what I’m talking about.
daughter- some kids at school are mean.
dad- yes they are.  If you were to tell someone who happens to be white that they are ugly, fat or stupid, they’re feelings would be hurt.  You don’t need to say anything though.  You point the ones out to me when I drop you off at school and I can say it for you.  I’ll say, “Hey chubby-ob-avitch!  How many freckles do you have and do you have them on your ass.
daughter- you can’t say ass.
dad- I can say it to anyone who acts like one
daughter- how did I get blue eyes?
dad- someone in my family and your mother’s, had to have had blue eyes.  My parents were both right handed but I came out left handed.  Someone in my mom and dad’s family had to be left handed.
daughter- daddy?
dad- yes…
daughter- do black lives matter to you?
dad- this is like an interview today…  What happened to asking me questions like why a dog’s tail wags?  All lives matter to me.
daughter- I heard ladies at the hair salon say that if any white people say that all lives matter, then they’re racist…  What’s a racist?
dad- um…  a racist is someone who judges others based on the color of their skin, religion or where they are from…  Like all black people are like this or all white people are like that.
daughter- are you racist?
dad- I like to think that I’m not but someone might think that I am.  I can always say that I was once married to a black woman and my daughter is part black…  I could say like a lot of other white people who because I have a black friend, I couldn’t possibly be racist.  Do you get what I’m saying?
daughter- I think so…
dad- if I saw someone drowning or burning in a building, I wouldn’t be more likely to save someone because they were white.  Any life matters.  I wouldn’t want to die in water or by fire and would hope that my life matters to someone if they could help me.
daughter- did you know there used to be slaves and they were black?
dad- yes, I learned about that too.  It was wrong and sad and white people who didn’t agree with slavery, went to war with other white people who did want slavery.  It was a really bad war where lot’s of people died.  Even President Lincoln was killed over not wanting slavery.
daughter- if you could be an animal, which animal would you be?
dad- now that’s the sort of question I’m used to…  Today I would be a hippo.  I would go in the pool and cool off all day, then get up and eat, fart and go to sleep.
daughter- you fart a lot now.
dad- You do too.  You must get it from me.
The daughter got quiet and watched the television but she wasn’t really watching.  She was deep in thought.  She held one of her stuffed animals from the latest Disney movie in her hands and looked out of the window.  The father turned down the television volume and added one last thing.
dad- do you know what I wish?
daughter- what?
dad- I wish you could stay the same age you are now so that I always could keep you safe and know where you are.  I would never let boys try to kiss you and never let anyone try to give you drugs…  I know it isn’t possible to wish for that and have it come true so my wish is that you grow up happy and stay healthy and have a good job one day and find someone who makes you happy if that’s what you want and you come to see me now and then when I’m old.
daughter- you’re already old.
dad- yup… So don’t forget to visit your old man when you grow up.
daughter- I would never forget about you.
dad-  ok good.  Now we understand each other and the world completely.
daughter- yup…
The daughter curled up in the crook of her father’s arm and went back to watching her show.  The dad thought about being tired, what he had to get done during the course of the day, what bills he had to pay and things he needed to get done that day while his daughter reloaded.
daughter- daddy?
dad- yes, baby…
daughter- who are terrorists and where do you find them?
dad- Wow, wow, wow…I think we need to eat first before we answer anymore questions.  Would that be alright with you?
daughter- yes…  Well I am pretty hungry.  I’ll have more questions for you later.
dad- Yes…  More questions…  Of course…  Always.

July 4, 2016

240 and Counting

Independence- 240 years and the descendants celebrate with wings, malt liquor and parades.  Bill of Rights and the rights of the dead, a bullet piercing the side of the head somewhere on the west side, south side, Chicago’s apartheid red line zone where the tourists never go.  But I digress- this is a process of processed food, entertainment and education.  Back when we were all English and white, on paper the ideas seemed right- Liberty and justice for all… or maybe some or none.  Manifest destiny, all for you and me from sea to shining sea.  You’re free above this line and slave below this one.  A war between brothers and in the end freedom with an asterisk- there was a fix.  You give us the presidency and we’ll look the other way for nearly a 100 years til someone refuses to give up a seat, sit where they want when they choose to eat, vote, protest and integrate, separate but equal became the Civil War sequel.  Well I’ve jumped ahead again.  The Kaiser, Sarajevo, trench warfare, mustard gas the rise of the working class.  Comrades in a sea of red, the Czar was dead.  The treaty left them angry and needy after reparations of Versailles a charismatic character, a director, a rector sold the scape goat- many die and why?  A bomb to stop a war and within a few years a little more and a truce that lasts til this day.

Unbridled growth and prosperity, suburbs and the interstate, sock hops and roller skates.  We liked Ike and then came JFK, Bay of Pigs, assassins and then LBJ and the KKK.  Just advisors to advise those who love and cherish democracy, imperial imposition of freedom for Vietnam.  Baby killers, draft dodgers, free love, and women’s lib.  Drugs and Nixon, the fix was in.  Watergate, oil crisis, a cancer on the presidency, end the war with dignity.  Ford, Carter Reagan- morning again in America.  This aggression will not stand- draw a line in the sand, new world order, Perot, Clinton, stained dress, Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill congressional hearings on the hill.  W, 9-11, weapons of mass destruction, mission accomplished, quagmire, Afghanistan/Taliban=Vietnam, Obama, Osama, Arab spring, ISIS, crisis of confidence, we’ll build a wall for our defense, terrorists, xenophobia, first woman presidential candidate, with shadows of doubt…  Stalin, Hitler, Pol Pot… Wait!  This just in…  Citizen Trump

June 1, 2016

Timebombs

It isn’t possible to send out E-vites before expiring and passing on to heaven, another life or nothing, depending on what you believe.  There are no parties with tears and hugs before getting on to a helicopter and waving goodbye to everyone the way President Nixon did when he resigned.  No smile, wave and peace symbols flashed with your fingers before passing on.  It happens suddenly or it drags on.  It happens peacefully or we agonize and panic.  There really is no good way out.  We really are time bombs and don’t know when it is that we go off.
Andrew Millar received the news that he was going to die from cancerous polyps in his intestine, throughout his colon and into his blood stream.  He felt as he always felt but upon finding blood in his shit quite often, he decided to visit the doctor who sent him for tests.  In the same time in the same town, there was a man name Andrew Miller who was also worried about blood in the stool, saw his doctor and was sent in for testing.  The oncologist that was reading the results of Millar and Miller, mixed the two up.  The doctor told Millar that he should wrap up anything he needed to get done in the next six weeks when actually he just had anal fissures and nothing more and told Miller that he was absolutely fine when in reality, he had about six weeks to live.  It was an honest mistake brought on by the distraction that the FDA and FBI were about to bust the onocologist for prescribing unsanctioned, cheap Canadian drugs that were not approved so that he could make more money than if he purchased the cancer drugs through approved sources in the United States.  Who doesn’t want to save money?
Now Millar was a Jazz guitarist that never quite cracked the fame ceiling and was able to sustain himself just on playing music.  Millar had to teach guitar to young men who wanted to learn Led Zepplin riffs, play Glen Miller ( no pun intended ) songs at nursing homes and Kool and the Gang songs at weddings.  To really pay the bills, Millar was a substitute teacher in the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles County.  Millar usually brought his guitar to try to calm the high school age kids.  He would ask them to name songs and he would play them and as time went on, kids no longer listened to much music that required guitar.  They would throw out Ariana Grande, Justin Beiber or other syrupy, bubble gum stuff that really didn’t have guitar in it.  The youngsters were not impressed with his talent.  He was just a dumpy old man who looked like he hated the world.  Millar wore frayed jeans with a collared shirt untucked so as to not accentuate his second trimester belly fat.  He had a receding hair-line and he hated that life seemed to be changing for the worse for people like him- white, male, under employed, baby boomers.  Jazz was his sanctuary.  He would show up for Jazz jams around the city where a couple or two would listen to really great musicians play out of a bible of memorized standards.  It really was the same shit over and over.  It seems that all the Jazz that anyone ever played, was created during a 15 year period which ended with the Bossa Nova fling in the 1960’s.  Other than that, Millar really did not like his life.  Being a substitute teacher is what he loathed the most in life.
Upon receiving the news that he was going to die soon.  Millar was getting ready to sell everything on Craig’s List that he could get rid of and move to Amsterdam until he died.  He was going to smoke hash when the cancer really took hold, fuck prostitutes without protection and play Jazz is some really cool clubs in a very seemingly cool country.  The phone rang early on a Monday morning.
“Listen…  I’m going to die very soon…  You know what I’m saying?  In six weeks or less, it’s taps for me.  I don’t need the sixty bucks a day after taxes just to put up with little fucks who think they have it all figured out.”
“Just this one last time…  I’m absolutely in dire straits right now.  I have illness, births, deaths and not enough people to watch these rooms…  What can I do to sweeten the deal?”
A bottle of Woodford Reserve Bourbon and the day’s pay.  Millar walked into the room to find the students sitting on top of desks, shouting, talking on cell phones and one young black man was dancing in front of a mirror.  The students were part of a “special” class where they were all just incident away from possibly becoming part of true special education environment.  Millar, moved the desks into a circle and then told the students to sit where ever they want.  Millar stood in the middle.  The students quieted down.  They were intrigued by the seating arrangement.  Millar looked down and supported his chin with his thumb and index finger.  He looked both troubled and deep in thought.  A female finally asked him what was going on.
“No bullshit busy work today.  Your regular teacher is dying or giving birth or just blowing this off because she is frazzled.  I have no idea why and it doesn’t matter to me.  I have my own cross to burn today…  I want you each to look at me and tell me one thing that comes to mind about me.  We will go clockwise…  You sir…  You’re first.”
“Old, fat, sloppy, angry, tired, lazy, white, poor, ugly, stupid, racist…”
“Very good…  You’re getting the game.  So let’s back up and guess what I was like as a ninth grader like all of you.  I was a nineth back in 1982!  Before cellphones, graphic porn, PCs, laptops and a slew of other things that have managed to baby sit all of you today…  Sir…  Start again.”
“Nerdy, skinny, small, scared, pasty, introverted, nose picker, masturbator, momma’s boy…”
“Well…  It’s as if you were all right there with me back in 1982…  Okay, now it’s my turn.”
Millar rolled up his sleeves, took out a small bottle of Woodford Reserve from his pocket, took a swig, wiped his mouth like a pirate, exhaled loudly, clapped his hands and then rubbed them together.
“You there…  Art chick.  Tall and blonde, nice brand new body on you.  You may have gone lesbian for shock value or will by the time you enter into a college.  Once the shock of lesbian wares off, you’ll have a black guy.  Not the safe Uncle Tom types that take up ice hockey and if you close your eyes, you’d swear you were talking to a nerdy white guy…  You know what I’m talking about homey, dontcha?”
Millar pointed to the young black man with braids, sitting with his legs spread and his arms crossed, wondering where this was going.  And wondering more- why?
“The oreo type that uses words like awesome after everything.  Maybe calls guys bro or dude.  He likes skiing and salsa dancing with his really white girlfriend.  They’ll take a cooking class together and Lamaze someday when they decide to spawn little zebras…  No not that type of safe black man.  I’m talking about the guy who washes his car daily, with special rims and a special stereo system that sounds like bombs falling on London with the deep bass.  His white gym shoes are a cherrished possession.  Maybe was in a gang or is in a gang.  Lives a rough and tumble life in south central LA but gets bused all the way out to Woodland Hills just so he gets to see where really white whites hide away from the real world.  Tattoos, malt liquor, weed and speaks in mumbling, unintelligible half sentences and could never look the young white art chick’s dad in the eye and say, “pleased to meet you”.  Not pleased to meet you actually…  Dude…  What else do we have here?  Ah yes…  You there.”
A muscular white guy with his team football jersey on who was squinting and picking at his nails.  He was intrigued.
“You young man…  The proverbial boy next door.  You won’t probably make it to division I or II football.  You’re too slow, too white and not meaty enough.  You need to put on about 100 lbs and six inches just so you can stand on a line and bash your helmet into another equally grotesquely large man until someday voices in your head tell you to kill yourself.  No, you won’t go pro but you could wind up a bouncer for a really chic dance club near Hollywood.  You’ll marry some petite shrew, divorce, see your kids two weekends a month, sell cars or real estate and learn that you’re not a salesman…  You’ll have an epiphany at the age of like 28 that you should go back to school to become a PE teacher and get a gig as a…  ready for this?  A high school football coach!  My advice- don’t wait until you cannot sell cars or homes.  Go to college and become a PE teacher right away…  What else have we here?  Ah you…”
A chubby Mexican boy wearing shiny black shoes, dress pants, a plain white T-shirt and a blue flannel shirt buttoned only at the top.  Millar walked by and put his hand on his shoulder before going to the chalk  board and wrote a word in large letters.
ASSIMILATE
“Vato…  What is this word in Spanish?  Someday when I’m long gone and white people go the way of the Dodo Bird, it will be a moot word.  A word not necessary anymore.  Y’see…  Old white fucks like me go home and watch old television reruns and wonder where that America went.  Half the shit in this city is written in Spanish.  The Germans, Dutch, French, Italians all learned English.  The Koreans, Polish and Russians have all muddled along but not the Mexicans.  We need to write polite versions of be smart and don’t run on a wet floor in Spanish.  Why not Dutch or German?  Because they Came here and learned the language and became part of America.  Who created Donald Trump?…  Excuse the expression…  You people by not assimilating.  ASSIMILATE…  The word of the day.  Not because you’re rapists and murderers or taking jobs beneath all other Americans…  None of that shit.  For every white or black or Asian children born, there are three Latinos, Hispanics…  Primarily Mexicans being born.  Blacks don’t realize yet that at 12% of the population, they are the minorities.  Not the Latinos…  And that tag makes me laugh.  What exactly is Latin about Mayans who were conquered by Spaniards and forced to learn a European language…  So you, gordo…  You got a charp Chevy Chort…  Maybe a 1964 Impala lowered to about three inches off the ground.  You hang out in your barrio and try to kill others who are not from your barrio, right, essay…  Who have I left out?  Oh yes…  The Asian.”
A smallish Filipino boy sat with his arms folded and was in awe of what was being spewed by the substitute teacher.
“So you speak like you’re black and love the hip-hop culture.  You drive around in a little noisy Honda all souped up to race around with other smaller Asian lads on weekends.  You have a Spanish surname, sound like you’re black and will wind up going to college to become a nurse.  You’ll marry another Asian and get together with only other Asians and will live happily as can be.  That is provided you don’t get a divorce and decide to return to Manila, dress like a broad and sing bad Madonna covers in lounges as a career…  If you do, things are all set up for you here now.  You can piss wherever you want.  You got a cock but feel like there’s a woman trying to get out of you…  Fucking piss anywhere you want.  In fact, I’d claim to be LBG or T just to get a civil servant job.  That new group will be in the front row for any sort of new affirmative action…  Well I could go on and on really.  I hope that I have reached you all in some small way and let you know how we older people see you.  Know that the best years of your life are right now and that when you have to fend for yourself, it will suck.  Can’t wait to be 21 so you can drink?  You’ll need a drink to deal with life in America…  The greatest, strongest, smartest, most witty nation in the world and that is only our opinion of ourselves… where everyone aspires to be just like us except people like this young lady here with the head scarf.  Maybe she will find the love of her life in a camp in Syria, strap a bomb to her chest and take out the French or holiday workers in San Bernardino.  You say that is racist and unfair?  How many Hindus or Buddhists are beheading westerners in the name of their religion?  So unfair to think that way…  I know, I know.  They come here to wear blue jeans and drink Starbucks just like the rest of us.  Maybe they’re just trying to keep us from being more miserable and fucking things up more than we already are.  Picture this as a commencement speech from an angry old man that is dying.  I’m dying and will be dead long before all of you provided you don’t keep your heads up your asses.  Stereotypes aside- you are what makes America what it is.  Love it or go fuck yourself…  I think the bell will ring soon.  Whatever you do, just try to be happy.  Life is short and one day you get to be my age and look at the youth and want to just slap them into reality.  I hope I’ve done that today…  Either way, you won’t forget me for a while…  Class dismissed.”
Millar got home and saw the number 2 blinking on his answering machine that he purchased back in 1988 that was linked to his landline telephone.  Millar had a suspicion about one of the calls and he was right.  It was the school principal and he sounded like he was going to have a heart attack or stroke.
“What the fuck did you do today?  You are not getting paid for today. You are not getting any Scotch. You are not coming back to this school.  You will probably get sued and wind up on the news.  I guess if there is any saving grace to any of this shit is that you didn’t show up with a gun and just kill us all.  You may have killed my job and any chance of becoming a superintendent someday and for that I have to say fuck you, you fucking dick.  You twisted fuck.”
Millar poured himself a drink turned on the computer and checked email.  There was a bunch of junk from the Mayo Clinic, invites to play gigs for twenty dollars here or there and then one from one of the students.  Millar read it and then re-read it.  He turned off his computer and then turned it back on and re-read it one more time.
“Dear Mr. Millar,
I won’t let you know who I am.  I don’t want to be categorized further.  I just want to let you know that maybe we were wrong about you and maybe you were wrong about us.  You are right that we won’t soon forget you.  I cliqued on the link to your music page and you are a great guitarist.  I’m not a Jazz fan but liked what you play.  We all would have liked to hear you play instead of try to stereotype us.  Whatever…  It’s done now.  Just thought you should know that just because you’ve lived longer, it doesn’t mean you have it all figured out and you certainly don’t have all the answers.  That’s all.
 Millar forgot to play the second message on his answering machine.  He went back and hit play several times.
“Mr. Millar, I would like a call back from you but in the interim, I have some good news for you.  You are not going to die in six weeks from cancer.  You results were mixed up with another man with a very similar name to you.  You are absolutely fine and should live a long and happy life.  Call me if you wish to discuss this further.  Please let me know that you received this message.”
Message received.  All of them.

April 16, 2016

Nothing To Fear Except a Lack of Fear Itself

                Mr. Illych, showed up as he always did.  That wasn’t really his name but his boss gave him that name because he was a little man who was completely bald up the middle and had sharp marsupial features.  Mr. Illych received that name because he resembled the George Washington of the USSR, Vladimir Lenin.  Illych’s name was something ordinary like Smith or Thomas. 

                                Citizen A, whose name was Alan, was an angry young man who collected baseball cards and listened to right wing radio shows until he wanted to kill people.  How could anyone want to ban people from a country?  How could anyone want to build a Berlin style wall on our southern border?  How could anyone want to punish women for sexual mistakes which took place whilst in the throes of passion?  Alan became militant upon stumbling upon a “progressive” radio program but saw an angle to make money.  Seeing that he was unemployed, living in his mother’s basement watching Mets games and listening to political radio shows, Alan devised a way to make a living. 

                Alan would write one liners on Facebook where he had thousands of followers and he would receive hundreds of thumbs up.  It was addicting to him.  He needed the adulation of his friends.  The silent thumbs up was like a thunderous ovation while giving a speech in the mind of Alan.

                “ANYONE WHO CREDIBLY THINKS TRUMP IS THE ANSWER, SHOULD BE GIVEN A LABOTOMY BY NURSE RACHET AND LEFT IN THE GOP LOONY BIN OF RIGHT WING, REACTIONARY FUCKS THAT WANT US ALL TO BE PROTESTANT AND ANGLO AGAIN.”

                “TED CRUZ IS A TELEVANGELIST IN SHEEPS CLOTHING.  READY FOR SEPARATE BUT EQUAL WATER FOUNTAINS, CLOTHES HANGER ABORTIONS AND SODOMY LAWS?  IT’S NOT JUST FOR THE SOUTH ANYMORE, Y’ALL.”

                “KASICH…  BY THE TIME I GET TO CLEVELAND, THEY’LL LOVE ME… 17 PEOPLE WANTED TO TAKE YOU TO THE PROM.  14 COULDN’T TAKE THE PAIN OF HEARING NO.  YOUR DADDY WON’T LET YOU GO TO THE DANCE WITH THE OTHER TWO…  I’LL BE WAITING IN THE CAR WHEN YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND.  YOU’LL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO DANCE WITH ME…  IN BEAUTIFUL CLEVELAND.”

                Maybe a dozen posts a day with hundreds and sometimes thousands of thumbs up, re-posted sharing of his wit and occasionally personal messages came to him on Facebook.

                “YOU SHOULD BE A COMEDIAN.”

                “YOU SHOULD RUN FOR OFFICE.”

                “YOU SHOULD PLAY A FLUTE.  PEOPLE WOULD FOLLOW YOU LIKE MICE.”

                “PLEASE LIKE MY COLLECTION OF POEMS FROM WHEN I WAS IN PRISON THAT I AM SELLING ON AMAZON.COM.”

                Alan thought that maybe people would follow him.  Maybe he did actually have leadership skills even though his dead father said that he would never be anything but a deadbeat sucking off his mother’s tit for the rest of his days.  One day a light went on in the attic of Alan’s mind- I could be an activist and an entrepreneur.

  Business was not going well for Alan’s enterprise.  It seemed nobody wanted to hire mercenary protesters until Mr.  Illych ran across his ad while looking through Craig’s List.  Mr. Illych met with Alan and things took off from there.

                “Listen…  There is a whole culture of bust outs who hate their parents for giving them a really good place to live, anything they ever asked for, fed them, kept them safe and then cast them into college just to get brainwashed by some fuck with a PHD who never even owned a car in his life, can’t find a wife, can’t accept hygiene and deodorant and only has possibly one friend who is equally marginally functional that feels Karl Marx was completely right and that the whole experiment was just a bit premature for the Victorian times.  These people protested when they were young against the establishment and now they’ve planted the seeds into young blank slates.  Maybe my parents are racist…  After all, we lived in an all-white subdivision except for the one Asian family but they were Baptist in the end.  My parents were relieved that I wasn’t gay…  They must be homophobes.  My parents think those people in the head scarves and beards might have bombs strapped to their person under all those shrouds…  Are you following me, Alan?  I get the feeling you’re of that mindset.  You believe in a liberal agenda, right?  We live in a republic, not a democracy, my young idealist.  Would a democracy have super delegates and unbound delegates pledged to a losing candidate even though the citizens voted for something else?  No, my friend, this happens in republics.  Republic of China, banana republics and these United States.  Think of yourself as the overseer.  Think of yourself as the middle man.  Think of yourself as delegator, puppet master or the pied piper…  Are you with me Alan?  We could wind up in bed together on this one and wind up very happy…  Here is what you have to do.”

                It started with a few dozen and then there were a lot more.  Maybe hundreds and soon to be thousands.  The word was out.  There is a rich dude named Citizen A, who pays people to express their anger at the right wingers.  All you have to do is be angry, unruly, and belligerent, fight the police and anyone who does not agree with the progressive agenda.  You follow your heart and if you find yourself arrested, Citizen A, will come to the rescue to bail you out and you will receive compensation either way for your time but a bonus for being arrested.  Butch looking lesbians, pasty looking white kids with dreadlocks covered in tattoos, angry outspoken young black and Latino people all showed up to Trump rallies around the country to extinguish, bully and belittle anyone thinking of entering a Trump rally or gathering.  Alan became rich as the middle man and what was there in it for Mr.  Ilych?  More money than you could imagine if everything pans out in the end.  Mr. Illych’s boss was a bit skeptical.  It was Mr. Illych’s job to make sure his boss stayed the course.  Hardly did he meet face to face with his boss.  Phone conversations daily were their briefings.

                “Boss…  Listen to me…  Have I been wrong yet?  This might seem like a negative thing and it is but trust me when I say this…  There is a silent majority sitting dormant in their easy chairs, watching this all on television, shaking their heads wondering what the world is coming to.  These people are now wondering if they turned the other cheek too much, have they softened up to the point where anything goes socially and guess what?  They’re about to be handed a bill for all the things they could care less about while the nation gets softer and more oblivious to the threats around the world.  They see these young people protesting and it makes them want to vote even more for you…  Steady as she goes, boss.  We have nothing to fear except a lack of fear itself…  Trust me on this.”

January 14, 2016

Yelping the 2016 Presidential Candidates

Republican presidential candidates -***** – I give the current cast of candidates five stars. I believe it is about time to think outside the box and outside the beltway. Career politicians- you’ve been served. Somebody has to stand up properly to the Iranians, North Koreans, Chinese and work with Russia for sane solutions. I think Vlad understands what deposing another dictator in the middle east will get us and it isn’t democracy. Trump is saying the things that many in this country think but do not dare say for fear of being labelled a backwards racist. We need to bring in throngs of Syrians just so our women can be fondled, robbed and raped at the Superbowl? Build a wall to keep us safe from everything. It’s a scary world and we had all better start taking notice. Would it be wrong to have morals and scrupples again?

1/2*- Unbelievable everyday that the media reports on the ridiculous things Trump says and does. Is this how Hitler made it? It’s like having your racist, drunk uncle show up to a family party and everyone is amused by the shocking things he will inevitably say. Maybe you’re not for Trump. Oh but there are others nearly as ludicrous. And starring Grandpa Munster as Ted Cruz. I say send him back to Canada and let him read nursery ryhmes to the Parliment in lieu of getting anything passed. Uncle Ben Carson, seeking to become the house Negro for the overseer Republican establishment. Marco! Rubio! Sorry, I can’t see you because I’m swimming with my eyes shut through this sea of blind reactionism. I know there are others still hanging on to the idea that they will be discovered and suddenly surge fifty points and become the front runner. Not even their spouses take them seriously. I ran a fortune 500 company, I was the governor of a state that was happy to get rid of me, my dad ran for president therefore I should do the same, yes but my brother and dad we’re presidents! We are a nation of shallow, short attention span people who get their news in sound bites and bullshit via the internet but really who is taking these idiots seriously other than ancient white people who remember the good old days when everyone was white who was somebody and gosh golly- all the presidents were men and white. Most Episcopalian too.

Democratic presidential candidates- *****- I’m not sure at this moment how I will vote but it is certainly a breath of fresh air to have sane, intelligent and civilized candidates who understand that our enemy is not a religion and that people who live in this country are not going anywhere. The elephant in the room is race relations and how the police target people of color on a daily basis. We have more to worry about within our borders than outside of them. Does anyone want to go back to the good ole Bush days? I think not. We are still recovering from the near collapse of our system under Republicans who were lead around by banks and Wall Street on all fours with ball gags in their mouthes. Bernie is not their slave and I think that speaks to the numbers of people out there that are ready for someone who is more of a third party candidate than the run-of-the-mill Democrats. Unemployment at 5%, low interest rates. Things were not this good in 2008. Whether we ultimately elect Hillary or Bernie, America will be in good hands. I’m waiting to see how things go in Iowa and New Hampshire before making a choice. Like the president said last night- we are the most powerful nation in the world and the state of the union is good!

1/2*- I kept trying to give the current list of Democratic presidential candidates no stars or less than that and this damn site won’t let me. Rome is burning and Bernie is playing the violin while Hillary plays cello. So your husband was president and you opted to look the other way on a slew of his indescretions that would get a raised eye brow from the other Bill- Bill Cosby. Benghazi, classified documents floating unsecured and Nixon had to resign? Pinocchio lies so much and so often she doesn’t even know when she’s lying. As long as we get more imbedded potential terrorists into this country in the form of refugees, I’ll go to bed feeling safe that the Iranians won’t make a bomb and use it against us so they can continue to fight proxy wars and terrorize the west. Don’t really care if your president is woman? Think that maybe she is not necessarily the heir to the throne exactly? Maybe you’d like an old time hippy communist who wants to dig deeper into your pockets to tax further and redistribute any wealth this nation might have. Yes comrade, there is a Vermont and if you let him, Bernie will turn the nation into one big Vermont- neo hippy, tree hugging, no deoderant wearing, gluten free, lesbian safe world where we are all use the same gender neutral bathrooms but men would have to sit when they piss so as to not be mysoginistic pigs. Yes everything and everyone equal but maybe some just a tad bit more equal as we will need some among us to run the new politburo. Eight more years of this silliness and we will be practicing Sharia Law and have a St. Lous style arch at the Mexican border that reads, ” Work makes you Free”. That’s if we haven’t been bombed out of our misery first. If Trump isn’t the answer, the right questions are not being posed. Come on!

May 6, 2014

For Whom the Bell Curve Tolls or WARP- White Anglo Racist Protestants

Filed under: Ethnicity,humor,Short Story — blackhumouristpress @ 11:22 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

A man by the name of Alouis A, was devising a test to determine the true thoughts of all owners of the NBA in order to expose racism that he felt still exists in the United States. It started with his own radio show and then talk shows, then rallies until CNN gave Alouis A. a forum. Was Alouis A. incensed by the comments of Donald Sterling? Not really, in fact he suspected most NBA owners were of the same mindset. Alouis A. wore horned rimmed glasses and wore an Afro. He would most definitely be perceived by white America as an educated and angry African-American. What could he possibly be mad about? He graduated with several degrees, lived in a nice house in the suburbs where his kids went to exclusive schools. Alouis A., had a great disdain for stereotypical African-Americans who personified all of white America’s fears and jokes. It was Alouis’s quest to change that mindset in anyway possible. Donald Sterling made it possible for a person like himself to become prominent and a voice a new voice for a new era of the black struggle.

“76 percent of the league is being propped up on the backs of African-American men that line the pockets of some very rich men in the third, arguably second most profitable professional leagues in America. Who but a plantation owner and an owner of human beings would say something like “I support them and give them food, and clothes, and cars, and houses. Who gives it to them? Does someone else give it to them? … Who makes the game? Do I make the game, or do they make the game? Is there 30 owners, that created the league?” … Come on now. This didn’t come out of the mouth of Thomas Jefferson. This is a current thought by a respected man in our society. I think every owner should have to willingly agree to a list of questions given while a polygraph is being administered so we can better understand the sentiments of those that really are some of the puppet masters of our economy. If you are not a racist, prove it. I’m calling on the president of the NBA to force this upon the ownership. I am not alone in the sentiment and will call for a boycott of every African-American NBA player until every owner submits to a list of questions with a polygraph. I suspect Donald Sterling is not alone. As of now, I do not have a list formulated. But rest assured… I will “

Alouis A. happened to be at a DC bar discussing a list of potential questions with other black activists when a tabloid gun- for- hire sat at a booth behind them and let his recorder record the list of potential questions to the NBA owners. The final list hadn’t been agreed upon. Alouis A. soon scrapped the idea when the graphic list of offensive questions was published in various tabloids and on of all things- TMZ. The potential questions were as follows.

1. Are you uncomfortable when you see an African-American man with a white woman?

2. If the white woman is fat and ugly are you less offended than if she were an attractive white woman?

3. Do you perceive African-Americans as lazy?

4. Do you believe that African-Americans have become more equal at the expense of white people?

5. Have you ever experienced anxiety over two or more African-American men walking towards you?

6. Have you used the term “colored” or “negro” in the past thirty years?

7. Does it bother you that Michael Jordan is an “equal”?

8. Do you see Michael Jordan as an equal?

9. Do you think racism exists?

10. Do you think the percentage of incarcerated African-Americans is justified?

11. Is Nelson Mandela the greatest leader of our modern age?

12. Did you vote for Mitt Romney?

13. Do you think the Republican Party is racist?

14. Have you ever told a black joke?

15. Have you ever used the N word?

16. Does the N word offend you or do you just claim to be offended because it is expected of you to be offended?

17. Do you believe that IQ differences are genetic and racial?

18. Did Apartheid offend you?

19. Did you ever visit South Africa prior to 1994?

20. If your daughter came home with an African-American man, would you be disturbed?

August 13, 2013

When Maeve Met Medgar

“So if you cannot see, what can you describe to me to help me understand what you know about the color black? As in black people. I’m so interested to hear what you have to say.”
A beautiful young blond and blind woman happened to plop down at the first table she could find at the food court in a mall she had never been to before. She was pouring water into a bowl for her seeing-eye dog. A tall man was eating an ice cream for 49 cents from Mc Donald’s. Medgar loved eating soft serve ice cream going back to the days when he would visit his grandmother in Mississippi in summer months and take pocket change with him and his cousin to the Tastee-Freeze.
Maeve was dropped off by her aunt’s caretaker who was livid that the woman she had cared for, for close to thirty years while she declined with Alzheimer’s, willed her small fortune to her blind niece from Detroit. Aside from assuming that she would inherit the home and money for being a friend and constant companion, Sarah had a thing against German Sheppard dogs whether they were seeing-eye dogs or not. Sarah was Jewish and lost relatives in death camps at the hands of Nazi in Germany. As a girl, Sarah heard stories of German Sheppards snarling and biting hiding Jews in cities in Germany. Oddly enough, Sarah’s great-grandfather was a man who was responsible for creating chemical warfare during World War I and a pesticide called Zyclon A that was eventually modified to kill humans in Nazi death camps and renamed Zyclon B. Sarah was related to that unique man attributed to a lot of death during two world wars. A definite player in human history, German history, modern warfare and a German Jew.
In any event, Maeve would inherit a large Frank Lloyd Wright home in Oak Park, Illinois, Sarah the Caretaker and a few million dollars after the death of her wealthy aunt. The end was drawing near and so Maeve moved from her small apartment in suburban Detroit to suburban Chicago. One warm summer day, Sarah dropped Maeve off at a indoor mall in a lower economic area that had very few Caucasians milling about to buy gaudy t-shirts, cheap jewelry, gym shoes and hip-hop wear. Maeve was told by Sarah that the mall was a nice mall, with nice people just like at home in safe, homogenous Troy, Michigan which is a good fifteen miles from the muck and mire of inner city Detroit.
Maeve, unbeknownst to her, plopped down at the same table as the ice cream eating Medgar. Medgar startled Maeve by speaking to her.
“What a beautiful dog you have, Miss…”
“Oh! I’m sorry; I didn’t know this table was taken. I’ll take another.”
“No need, no need. I’m just sitting here enjoying an ice cream and some air conditioning. Can I buy you an ice cream?”
“Thank you kindly. I am on a strict diet. I’m trying to eat as healthy as possible. I have done research on partially hydrogenated products that are the causes of heart disease. I’m trying to stay away from anything with too many additives. This is my first week in Chicago and I’m truly lost here. I told Sarah that I visited the Summerset Mall in Troy, Michigan nearly everyday. So she decided to bring me here. Is this a nice mall?”
“Well, malls are malls, Right?”
In Troy, the mall had a glass atrium with faux palm trees and resembled a place in Dubai. The mall had granite floors polished so that one could see their reflection and was as clean as if it had just opened. It housed five star restaurants and top shelf department stores. The mall near Berwyn, Illinois catered to lower economic people. There was an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet and all the fast-food kiosks that one would find out on the boulevard. People were obese and poor and people of color by in large. Maeve didn’t learn this during her first visit. Medgar, a sensitivity trainer for union workers who were disciplined for racial slurs, was between classes. Most of Medgar’s clientele were white, blue collar, under educated and under cultured, suckled from the tit racists with a fear and disdain of others unlike them. In order to keep their union jobs, they would need to take fifty-hour courses that illustrated the fact that all Americans were immigrants and that all immigrants had taken their turns as the lowest rung on the ladder. There were also testimonials from Asians, Hispanics and African-Americans who had been discriminated against. Most whites left more resolved in their racism but they learned to keep their racism private at work.
“Black… Hmm… Dismal, dank, despair, no light.”
“Light? What is light? “
“Something warm like the sun. I can feel the sun. The sun feels light and airy. The smell of trees and flowers. At night, it is cold and I hear the night is black and black is cold and it doesn’t have sun and warmth… You know?”
“Forgive me for asking but I just think it is so interesting to speak to some who is visually challenged…”
“Visually challenged? Please… That is insulting. I’m blind not stupid.”
“Okay, as you wish… Blind. It is interesting to hear what the blind perceive.”
“I see… Sorry, I hear that all the time. Just thought I would use that phrase even though I can’t actually see.”
“Ha… I got it… So Detroit. Motown. What was that like? Lots of black in Detroit.”
“I was born in the city of Detroit and never went back. All I heard was how screwed up Detroit was going back to the riots after Martin Luther King Jr. From what I hear and know, Detroit was like Rhodesia and has become Zimbabwe and there were too many Robert Mugabe like mayors that ran the city into the ground instead of a Nelson Mandela.”
“That is an interesting analogy. Detroit went from being a prosperous white city to a bankrupt black city. What do you think will save Detroit?”
“White people, white money. It’s okay to have a black city but you cannot exist without whites. I have studied the differences between Chicago and Detroit and the whites have not abandoned Chicago.”
“Did you know that Chicago had a few black mayors?”
“Yes. Did those mayors work with whites?”
“You got me there, Maeve… I am so glad that our paths crossed today. It has been so interesting to me to get your point of view. You being blind and discussing your views is like me being at a dinner party and being invisible. Just listening and taking it in. Good luck here in Chicago.”
Sarah was standing off to the side listening and watching the interchange between a good-looking black man and a good-looking white woman, Maeve. When Medgar departed, Sarah approached Maeve.
“I didn’t hear everything that transpired between you and the gentleman at your table but I do want to make you aware that he was a black man. Did you know that? Did he tell you he was black?”
Maeve furrowed her brow. She felt duped and used. Every black man she had come across in the past had a pseudo, bastardized Deep South accent. Medgar didn’t sound like Amos or Andy. He sounded white as if a color could have a sound. Maeve was embarrassed by the assumption that she was speaking to a white man and ashamed to admit it to Sarah who had been less than nice to here during the short amount of time she had been living with her and her aunt. Sarah asked Maeve what he sounded like to her. Maeve gave a snide answer.
“Well Sarah… He sounded much taller than he looked to me. Can we go home now?”

October 14, 2011

The Senior Free Coffee Posse

Visit any Mc Donald’s restaurant anywhere in the United States between the hours of 6am and 10am and you are likely to find busy, fortunately employed Americans, queuing up in automobiles, seeking cheap sustenance while listening to the radio, applying make up, checking text messages and email.   Underemployed young people scurry around like worker ants for the queen, gathering up processed food from caged animals, pumped up with hormones whose raison d’être is to provide cheap fuel to mass amounts of humans who ignore and disregard warnings of the effects of eating shit.

For those with a little time to sit and eat at plastic tables on top of plastic trays rather than juggle the steering wheel, Blackberry or I-phone whilst taking bites of a sausage biscuit with cheese that drips grease which falls onto paper wrappers and dress pants.  Those people with the luxury of dining conventionally at a table, will no doubt happen upon gangs of retired men who escape the company of their retired wives to congregate with other men their age.  Younger men play softball, poker, sit in taverns or puff on cigars in backyards to discuss politics, sports, work and relationships.  Beyond 65 years of age, before visiting a gym to sit on a stationary bike or hobble on a tread mill, before grocery shopping with coupons and eating lunch at the local buffet with the senior discount, many elderly men congregate at the nearest Mc Donald’s for a small breakfast and free coffee.  This is what you are likely to hear.

 

Harry- I’m going to California to visit my daughter Julia in Los Angeles next month.

Her husband is such a phony son-of-a-bitch.  He thinks I’m stupid because I’m             a little on the hard of hearing side.

 

Joe-            They say a girl finds a man like her dad but I say bullshit that.

 

Oliver- Most of men today are goddamn pussies really when you get down to it.

 

Harry- Amen to that…  So anyway Julia’s husband whom I call Gilligan because he’s

like that twerp from that old TV show.  He lets my grandson who is fifteen now run around in girl’s tight jeans.  The kid mopes like he’s neglected and carries a goddamn skateboard around with him everywhere.  The hair in the eyes and so on.  You can’t spank kids no more and they run the fucking show.  My son-in-law tries to reason with a kid that is telling him to go fuck himself.  So I step in and tell the kid that I fucked meaner looking men in jail and if he ever gets the idea to talk to me the way he does to his parents, he’ll need more than an orthodontist.  My daughter got all upset and her husband tells me he doesn’t talk that way to his children…  I turn to my grandson and apologize.  I sez to him, you know you’re right.  Your father should go fuck himself.

 

Oliver- California is the reason that this country we will have this Muslim

motherfucker doing nothing for another four years.  Yes we can do what?  What the fuck has he done?  Sadly enough, what is the next guy gonna do?  The Mormon?  They all fucked things up together and now none of them can step outside themselves and just get shit done.

 

Joe-             Did you call him a Muslim because you cain’t call him a nigger in front of me?

Is that what you wanna call him, Ollie?  A nigger?

 

Oliver- You know I will call a spade a spade.  I’ve called you a spade, and Javier

making the hash browns a spic and Harry the Heeb and I ain’t gonna change now.  If you’re a fag, don’t be mad if I call you a fag.  You wanna be African-American?  Go back to fucking Africa.  You ever been to Africa?  Fuck no you haven’t.  Harry here is a Jew.  You think he’s been to Israel?

 

Harry- I was in Israel after the war.

 

Oliver- Okay then.  Fuck all of you.  Why don’t you join them smelly kids in the park

complaining about people with money.  The communists lost.  It’s survival of the fittest just like Darwin said.  You’re smart?  You go to school?  Go get a good job.  It’s easier to cry and sit in the park.  Harry, why don’t you go put on your grandson’s bitch jeans and wheel this African-American over to the next, “Yes We Can” rally.  For fuck’s sake…  I voted for the son-of-a-bitch too.  I don’t give a shit what color you are, if you got a cock or a cunt.  You fuck up, hit the fucking road.

 

Joe-            Okay, Archie Bunker…  We heard your sermon.

 

Harry- Did you see the ass on that new woman they got here?  She don’t look

Mexican.

 

Oliver- She’s Puerto Rican.  Those Ricans got asses on them like black broads.  You

Can tell.

 

Joe-             You know something about African-American women, do ya?

 

Harry- It’s a proven fact that if you want a real good piece of ass, you don’t wanna

choose a Jewish girl.  Foreplay for a Jewish broad is two weeks of begging.

 

Oliver- Look at this…  You remember Bill who moved to Florida to be with his kid?

He’s right here in the obituaries.  Looks like the memorial will be here.  Bill

was a good guy.  Had that annoying habit of sucking up his fucking snots while I was trying to eat, but otherwise he was a stand up guy.

 

Joe-             We’re at that age now when you check the obituaries before the horoscope.

 

Harry-            Let’s talk about something else.  How bout them Tigers, huh?

 

Joe-            Nobody gives a damn bout baseball no more.

Harry-            That’s not true.  Look at attendance at games all over the country.

 

Oliver-            I still love a good game.  I think football has taken over by far but I still like a

A good game.  Kids today sit indoors watching television, playing video games.  You see a thin kid these days; he’s a freak of nature.  I’m so sick of seeing young boys with tits big enough to wear bras.  What the fuck happened?  You got half the country diabetic today.  Kids play sports on computers when they aren’t jacking off to porn.

 

Joe-             Oh so you’re against porn?  You becoming a Muslim too?

 

Oliver- I’m against men with tits.  You wanna play sports, give your thumbs a rest

and go to a park.  When we were kids, our parents lived through the depression.  We were told we had it good.  I don’t know how much softer things can get.

 

Harry- You have to admit that porn is outstanding today.  You don’t gotta sneak into

Into peep shows anymore and play with yourself in a seedy theater.  Technology is wonderful.

 

 

Oliver receives a phone call from his niece in New Jersey that his last remaining sibling is being put into a nursing home.  The dementia was becoming too difficult for his niece to handle with a family and a job.  Oliver hung up and said nothing for a minute as he thought about growing up with his older sister who was born prior to World War II.  She had always been so sharp and witty.  The idea that she had become childlike due to Alzheimer’s was hard for Oliver to swallow.  Oliver wondered when his expiration date was.  He wondered what it would be that would eventually do him in.  He was sad enough to cry but didn’t.  Joe and Harry saw that Oliver looked upset, quiet and distant.  Joe gave Oliver his moment to process the news he just received without asking what had happened.  Harry could not resist.  Oliver took a sip of his free coffee, raised his eyebrows before speaking philosophically.

 

“Boys…  We are the future dead and that’s for sure.  It’s a beautiful day today.  I think I’ll drag the old lady out for a stroll.  Dust her off and take her for a spin…  I’ll see you in the morning.  If I don’t get here by six, one of you grab our table.  The damn Koreans know we sit here but will take it if we’re not prompt…  See ya, boys.”

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