Blackhumouristpress's Blog

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.”

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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

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!

December 5, 2015

And They Broke Bread and Gave Thanks…

Filed under: chicago,elections,Ethnicity,humor,humour,ISIS,Short Story,trump — blackhumouristpress @ 2:23 am
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The Flannigan’s got together every Thanksgiving like just about every American with family does on the last Thursday of every November.  Thanksgiving is the first of three mandatory holidays that they all submit to gathering for every year.  Thanksgiving, then Christmas a month later and then it ends with Easter.

The Flannigan’s had a very Irish name but actually they were more Swedish than anything.  They had converted to Protestantism back around 1955 from Catholicism.  They became Evangelical Christians and so it became necessary and a duty to discuss god with anyone with ears.  Some of the Flannigan’s took the oath of accepting Christ as their own personal Jesus and in turn trying their level best to in a sense, sell Amway for god by asking people what their walk with the lord was.  For most people the question was like asking their sexual preference or even seedier personal sexual desires.  The devotion to Evangelical Christianity varied among the Flannigan’s from atheist to front row crusader.  Some among them decided that it was possible that god was not Evangelical Christian and then others concluded that just maybe there was no god.  On this particular day, god was not discussed during their Thanksgiving dinner.  Dinners with the Flannigan’s was always lively.  Someone inevitably throws out the first pitch while turkey gets passed with cranberries, string bean casserole with dried onions, rolls, sweet potatoes and so on.

“Did you guys see that video of the colored kid being shot like 60 times?”

The question was posed by Wade who now after the death of his father, Art, a World War II veteran, was the patriarch.  Wade, a Vietnam Veteran who had longish hair, tattoos, a Harley Davidson and a Corvette with a bronze medal license plate. After the war, Wade decided that there could not possibly be a god that would let such horrible things happen to innocent people.   He purposely called black people colored to get under the skin of his politically correct granddaughter who just happened to have an African-American boyfriend.

“Colored, grandpa?  Are we in the Deep South in the 1960’s?  Are we gonna git in the truck aftah dinnah and lynch us a colored?   That colored child was only shot sixteen times.  The cop ran out of bullets at sixteen.”

Edina, was racially cool.  She started attending an Episcopal Church that had a lesbian minister and all the people were really inclusive and mostly interracial couples.  Edina sort of wished she could be with her boyfriend RJ for Thanksgiving.  Last Thanksgiving was a bit of a cultural shock for Edina. It was as if she had gone to a foreign country.  RJ’s grandmother made a few recognizable things and some things she had never seen on a Thanksgiving table before.  Nobody really sat and had a meal together.  Men sat around the television and watched football.  People young and old came by and picked at stuff that was out and the women gave Edina the stare down- just another skinny white bitch who stole another good looking black man from the small pool of desirable men.  It would be weird among family or weird with her boyfriend’s family.  It was just going to be weird for her either way.

“Did you all know that this is the 50th anniversary of the death of JFK?  My what a good looking man and his wife was just a princess of a woman.  So refined and she could speak French and redecorate…  What a shame.  They say his head went flying all over the motorcade.  Cops had brains and blood splattered all over them…  That must have been something.”

Everyone stopped eating and talking and stared at Lorie, the matriarch who discussed some grizzly details in the middle of a meal.

Lorie, the wife of Art who was had recently died, was ninety years old.  She married after Art returned from World War II.  They had two children and moved to the suburbs.  Her job since 1947 was to be a wife, a mom, a thrifty shopper, a cook and a maid.  Instead of sitting to eat, she was folding the clothes that Wade had brought over to his mom to wash.  Everyone at the table kept telling her to sit.  She was slightly hard of hearing and then selective.

“It’s fifty two years, grandma.  I was born in 1965 and he died in 1963… Every Thanksgiving you bring up JFK.  Did you have a thing for him?”

Mathew was her grandson, father of Edina, son of Wade.   Mathew was indifferent to religion and politics but was very much into sports and music.  He grew up a Punk Rock kid in the 1980’s.

“I remember those horrible shirts you used to wear of one of those crazy bands.  Dead Kennedys…  After everything that family had to go through and to wear a shirt like that.  You had no respect for nothing back then.”

It was a famous photo of a Vietnamese man wincing just before being shot in the temple with a handgun with the words, Holiday in Cambodia.  It stirred Vietnam memories for Wade.

“I could have choked the life out of you when I saw that shirt.  I went over there to make democracy safe for young punks like you just so you could go around looking like an asshole and wearing shirts that piss everyone off.”

“Come on, dad…  That was a long time ago.  I grew up and got jaded just like you.  You don’t think I look at just about everyone under the age of twenty five and shake my head?  Glued to their cell phones, pants hanging off of their asses, stupid tattoos, and piercings.  Guys today want to be Olympic athletes and then turn chick…  I had a Mohawk and wore offensive t-shirts.  Look what’s going on today.  If you really hate the establishment and your government, you become an Islamic terrorist and kill fellow Americans…  You thought the world was coming to an end with Punk Rock.  Look at where we are today?”

Ryan, the ex-hippy turned born again Christian, wore a Ted Cruz button on his suit jacket.  Nobody else wore a suit.  Ryan’s wife was from Brazil.  Her name was Martha and she was black, Chinese and Hispanic that spoke Portuguese.  Everyone sort of forgot what she was exactly.  All they knew was that she was extremely born again, vegan and gluten free.  Martha didn’t quite understand everything being discussed but found it interesting.

“Martha… come on, sweetie.  You gotta have some of that good turkey and ham.  I got it at Honeybaked.  I would think you couldn’t get Honeybaked out there in Portugal,” said Lorie, while folding clothes.

“Ma!  Put the clothes down and come eat…  She speaks Portuguese.  She’s from Brazil.”  Said Ryan.

“Well, I know they don’t have Honeybaked there.  You’d be lucky to get a Mc Donald’s.”

Nobody had a response to that.  The television break from the football game flashed a picture of a young black male being shot in the street of Chicago by a police officer and the protesting going on in front of prestigious stores in Chicago’s downtown.

“If a cop tells you to stop and you don’t, you’re rolling the dice.  Carrying a knife and not listening to a cop is asking to get shot,” said Wade.

“Sixteen or sixty times, right grandpa?  They would have shot a white kid too, right?” Said Edina

“Fucking A right…  Let’s just drop it.  Cops are wrong, criminals are right.  Blacks got the right to thumb their noses at authority.” Said Wade.

“Grandpa, why are talking about this when we have so many terrorists coming here from Syria to infiltrate us and kill us.  Cops are only killing one segment of society but Syrian women and children are coming with bombs strapped to their chests to kill us unless we elect Trump to deport all illegals and refugees and when were done with them, deport all non-born Americans except his beautiful wife and any other super models and once we’ve gotten all of them, we’ll get rid of red haired people, freckled people and create a new master race of people with really bad hair.”

“Well honey, once the moderates have taken over Europe and North America, sharped tongue cuties like you will be stoned in the city center.  Hope you have a good head scarf and can recite the Koran when they come for you.  In the meantime, maybe you can come up with a way to re-educate the police here so that let criminals do whatever the hell they want.  If Hilary becomes president she can take care of all those things for you.  Chicago will look like Benghazi,” said Wade.

Several people groaned at the interchange.  Mathew asked what the score of the football game.  For a full five seconds nobody said anything.  Silverware clicked against plates and the announcers in the back ground commented on the football game.  Martha took break in the conversation as an opportunity to say something.  Nobody interrupted the woman who rarely spoke.  They had heard that she was taking an English as a second language course for four hours a day, every day.  Her English was coming along quite well.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

Everyone stopped eating and turned to the exotic looking woman.  This was a watershed moment.  The quiet foreigner who seemed to sit in her husband’s shadow asked everyone present if they wished to know what she thought.  Of course they were all interested.  Everyone looked at the exotic looking woman.

“China makes everything that anyone could ever want to buy and has an army of more people than there are people in the United States and they never have to send any troops to fight.  They don’t have terrorism and people are not shooting each other every day.  Why do you think this is?”

Everyone kept coming up with things on China for about a half hour until dessert was served.  Ryan received a text message from Martha who was sitting next to him.  It read-

SOMEBODY NEEDED TO STOP THESE PEOPLE   : )

August 20, 2013

When Pigs Flew Over Detroit

Filed under: Detroit,humor,Short Story — blackhumouristpress @ 6:17 am
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At 4:42 am on a July morning, angry clouds swirled and twisted as the sun behind a curtain of storm cover, began to light the sky. A loud boom and a flash of lightning hit the Fisher Body 21 building and illuminated it like a Christmas tree for a solid ten seconds. It was so beautiful to see the mother of all Detroit structural eyesores, shine as though rapture was going to take place at the site where chassis for Cadillac’s prestigious cars were once made. It has since become a haven for urban dwellers that tag walls and break windows, those who harvest metal to earn money and those without a place to live.
A semi carrying canisters of nitrous oxide slammed into the back of a livestock transporter full of pigs being taken to slaughter to make things like bacon, bacon dates, bacon bits, canned hams, ham sandwiches and so forth. The livestock transporter swayed hard to the left and then back to the right until the back end swung around and knocked the cab on its side. Sparks flew as the two large vehicles slid for the length of two football fields. A motorcyclist hit a large sow that had been released from the carriage and was running toward the motorcycle. It took several seconds for the brain of the motorcyclist to accept that a herd of pigs were running full boat towards him at daybreak, with a really angry sky and cars dodging animals and other cars on interstate 75. The motorcyclist hit a pig and flew over cars, over the barrier wall for the freeway and experienced the sensation of flying down a rollercoaster until he landed on the back of a scavenger’s truck that just happened to be driving under the freeway, filled with metal and a bedbug infested mattress to break his fall and save his life.
A car full of potential terrorists that had flown from the middle east to Canada, had hit some strip clubs and Caesar’s Windsor casino before crossing the bridge to America to punish Americans for infidelity to god, over indulgence and a lack of discipline and morals, for their weaknesses in giving in to cravings and twisted sexual desires and the idiocy of what they have seen on satellite television on Maury Povich’s paternity and infidelity shows. Infidels to be sure.
The church bus on the way to a retreat in the Upper Peninsula hit a two hundred pound plus hog and propelled it through the air and through the windshield belonging to the men on a mission to punish Americans for being Americans. They took it as a sign from Allah that maybe they were doing the wrong thing. They rationalized that if during a severe storm, Allah sends a pig through your windshield, forcing you to touch a forbidden and dirty, bloody animal during Ramadan, and then maybe it would be best to return home or at least back to Windsor.
A notoriously morally corrupt state trooper who had a knack for stopping attractive young women who were sure to be given a DUI for leaving the casinos drunk in the early morning hours, was touched by the storm and ensuing calamity of flying and running pigs, car crashes and leaking nitrous oxide. The truck with nitrous oxide that hit the livestock truck that caused the motorcyclist to fly onto a bed on the back of a beat up old truck, which distracted the church bus driver, who hit a pig that sent the pig through the windshield of wannabee terrorists (you’re not actually a terrorist unless you’re successful) who then hit the state trooper’s vehicle that was parked on the shoulder while he received oral sex from a young woman who could never have afforded the $10,000.00 in fees for a DUI, all exited their cars and watched the former Marine turned state trooper, walk through the pile up of cars with his zipper down and his bloody detached cock in his hand. The youth pastor of the church bus that was on it’s way to bring troubled inner city youth to a place they could have only dreamed of, exited the bus through a window and began to scream at the clouds. The minister truly believed that Christ had returned and took what he needed and had left the rest for Satan to sort out. The minister tried to quickly reason why it was that he had come up short. Was it the underage girl he had a relationship with when he was young and impressionable at the tender age of thirty-four? Was it the years of anti-war protests, LSD and free love back during the Vietnam days?
“You cannot leave me! I have walked the path I was shown and have shared your message for you. I have acknowledged my sins and have asked you to become my personal savior. How could you forsake me?”
The wannabee terrorists, the church campers, the truck drivers all stood around as the skies poured rain, became windy and brought about hail. Within minutes, the skies cleared and the nitrous oxide leaked and was inhaled by all that converged around the trucks. At first a few people near the leaking tanks of laughing gas, began to giggle and then others whose days and lives were temporarily ruined came over to see if the group of people were laughing or crying.
By the time the paramedics arrived, they found a rather diverse group of stunned people laughing and hugging one another. No apocalypse, no rapture, just a really bad start to a day in July. A day when pigs flew over Detroit.

May 7, 2013

Two Men and a Gator or Bombs in Detroit

Filed under: Detroit,humor,Short Story,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 10:43 pm
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Blackhumouristpress's Blog

People were sleeping in Detroit when Goose heard what sounded like an explosion, saw a bright light and then felt the shock wave in his chest that reminded him of a double barrel 12 gauge sawed off shot gun going off during a robbery of a party store. Goose had been feeding his pet alligator that was being hand fed catfish in the backyard of his Detroit home on a warm summer night when the explosion occurred.
A fireball, traveling at a speed of 19 miles per second, had blazed across the horizon, leaving a long white trail that could be seen as far as Montreal.
Car alarms went off, thousands of windows shattered and mobile phone networks were disrupted as well as Internet and television. Goose grabbed his four-foot alligator and carried him into the house. His cousin Rakeesh sat up on the couch that served as his bed…

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Two Men and a Gator or Bombs in Detroit

Filed under: Detroit,humor,Short Story — blackhumouristpress @ 5:41 am
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People were sleeping in Detroit when Goose heard what sounded like an explosion, saw a bright light and then felt the shock wave in his chest that reminded him of a double barrel 12 gauge sawed off shot gun going off during a robbery of a party store. Goose had been feeding his pet alligator that was being hand fed catfish in the backyard of his Detroit home on a warm summer night when the explosion occurred.
A fireball, traveling at a speed of 19 miles per second, had blazed across the horizon, leaving a long white trail that could be seen as far as Montreal.
Car alarms went off, thousands of windows shattered and mobile phone networks were disrupted as well as Internet and television. Goose grabbed his four-foot alligator and carried him into the house. His cousin Rakeesh sat up on the couch that served as his bed after midnight and looked at the fuzzy television screen. He asked Goose about the explosion.
“Imma guess one of two motherfucking things; it either the terrorists and they pressure cookers or it’s the North Koreans but either way, Dee-troit is under motherfucking siege. The white folk up north done talked bout this shit and we jus think they crazy but some shit coming down right now. Git all you got which you and follow me. We taking the alligator with us. He too scared to be alone right now. I was in the backyard and seen this light that was as bright as the sun. We mighta been bombed, dog.”
The alligator was found last Christmas Eve in the field behind their home. Someone had put the alligator in a sack and dumped it. Goose saw something moving in the large burlap sack and thought it might have been a dying human. To his surprise, it was a three-foot alligator. Goose adopted the animal as his pet and loved it like a child.
The explosion was a meteorite, which weighed about 10 metric tons and may have been made of iron. It entered Earth’s atmosphere and broke apart 31 miles above ground. The energy released when it entered the Earth’s atmosphere was equivalent to the power of a small atomic weapon exploding.
“I seen this shit on TV once. We done bombed the Japanese to hell. I don’t know why the terrorist motherfuckers didn’t take out Chicago or New York or even LA. They probably was hiding out in Canada… Git dressed!”
The early-morning blast and ensuing shock wave blew out windows throughout Detroit. People were looting party stores and gas stations everywhere. Booze, beef jerky and diapers were in the arms of fleeing looters. Goose walked around holding his gator and Rakeesh walked around with loaded guns expecting to find Koreans or cab driver looking Taliban types but only found neighborhood residents running amok.

One piece of meteorite landed in the Detroit River and caused a wave that hit the GM building ten floors high. Water from the enormous wave covered Jefferson and rolled down Woodward.
Scientists knew that a meteorite had hit Detroit. Due to power outages, none of the residence knew what had occurred. Their minds ran with them and they gathered up as many items from stores as possible. Big black armored trucks with hundreds of police in riot gear surrounded the area off of Joy Road. A mousy woman’s voice came over a loud speaker.
“People… Listen! It’s not what you think. If you have anything in your possession that does not belong to you, now would be a good time to drop it and return to your homes.”
Three large Detroit cops surrounded Rakeesh and Goose who was holding his scared alligator. The cops had weapons lock and loaded ready to shoot Rakeesh and Goose if needed. They looked at the two men with the alligator with flash lights pointed in their faces and lowered their guns. A cop who was a former Iraqi War Veteran walked towards the two men and the alligator shaking his head.
“I thought I saw it all but looting an alligator is something special…”

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.

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