Say it, spit it, get it, shit it then get rid of it. It's probably over and done with.
Y'know what I just fuckin' love? I love it when people 'say' things. Yes, 'say' things. Y'know what I mean, when they say something so tongue-in-cheek or outlandishly offensive that they might as well do that stupid 'quotation mark' sign with their fingers? I was just thinking back to a number of months ago- a gob load of them mind- when I was at the movies and I ran into a 'nice racist'. I know, you're wondering how the hell that works. Hell, I am too. To this day I don't know how that woman managed to say that many racist things to me in a single sentence and still be polite about it. O' course, you know me, I take everything in stride and inherently think everything you say, do, think and assume are the funniest joke since Dole went face first off that stage platform while running for office.
And speaking of Dole. Quickly- was anyone wondering why this decrepit piece-of-a-man was running for office? The object of being the president is to have a two year or possibly four year plan that extends past, 'Try not to have a Cardiac arrest while at the podium speaking about the hazards of high cholesterol. Ironic Death = Bad Death', isn't it? Or did I just miss something? This man is so old he's got one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel and we're supposed to vote for him? - Fuck voting for him for a moment, let's switch to another important factor. Half of Dole's upper body is paralyzed, and it just happens to be the one side that's the most important. How do you swear a man in that can't raise his right. Fucking. Hand? I mean, honestly. Tie a string to it and have someone raise it off stage? PLEASE! Hell, I'm sure he entered fully expecting not to win. Could you imagine if he accidentally pulled through and did win? Well over half the country would be arrested for Involuntary Manslaughter because the bastard would have dropped over dead just as sure as they said he won. 'I won? Oh my goodn-- *high-pitched Heart Monitor tone*'.
But anyway, I digress, back to what I was saying about this woman. Now me, I'm a black guy, I'll tell you that in a heartbeat, but I'm not one of those freaks that run around throwing up gang signs, wearing my pants down below my ass with a belt on or scream things like 'Niggah True Playahz Fo' Real Dawg'. In fact, I pride myself on having proper spoken language most of the time, joking aside. This, however, seems to have been one of the qualities about myself that threw this woman for a loop. At the time I was in Cordova, or Bartlett at least, checking out the movie theatre. It's between shows and I'd decided to stay all day and just watch every movie I could in a single opening, right? Right. So I'm in a conversation with this average, middle of the road, white-bred American family. We're chatting it up, having a relatively good time watching this particular woman in question's husband pow away at some bad guys on an FPS (First Person Shooter) simulator. The guys really doing astonishingly well, even considering the time limit. Come to find out he's an Ex-Seal. So we start talking about that a bit and, long story short, his wife opens her big trap and let's something stupid roll out:
'I'm just so surprised... you're not like ... most people... like you.'
*CAR BRAKES* Stop. Did this bitch just say what I think she said? I give her a strange look and tilt my head, realizing at that very moment that I'd just found a mark. In fact, the only reason I didn't go off and decide to mess with her head at that moment was because I considered her husband a man of some intelligence whom apparently just married the wrong trick. She goes on:
'You're so well spoken and well mannered, nothing like those other ... people.'
At this point I'm imagining her doing that afore mentioned 'Stupid Hand Gesture' (or S.H.G.) for quotation marks. I turn to her and ask her what she means. She doesn't elaborate. I can tell that she senses she may have offended me because at this point I'm reading her expression so very closely I even notice when her heart changes tempo. Her eyebrows shift a bit; she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her eyes dart to the left. Sure sign she's got something to hide. We continue to talk and she continues to throw sidelong comments like that at me, at which point I humor the woman and we continue talking. She asks me what part of town I live in and where I came from. I tell her- Cordova in the suburbs (or did at the time). She goes on a bit about how Cordova's such a nice place and it doesn't have many 'of those people'. She then asks me where I was born because I don't talk like 'the people like me in this state.' I humor her still and mention that I was born in Beverly Hills, California (Which I was). She goes on again assuming I must be someone of some importance I'm sure from the way her face suddenly moved from uncomfortable to cheesily, fakely, ridiculously friendly. She tells me I sound like a very intelligent person and asks what I aspire to do, I elude the question by giving a simple answer:
'Well, I'm not sure yet, I'm still young and right now moving is the biggest thing on my mind.'
She chimes in:
'Oh, no, stay in Cordova. You don't want to be around 'those people.'
At this point I decide it's time to turn off the charm and throw a curve ball at her. I say:
'And who exactly are 'those people'?'
She stops and stares at me long enough for me to gather that she's searching for an answer, and doesn't go on. I almost burst out laughing but I hold it together long enough to fake anger:
'Do you mean Black People? So you're assuming that just because I'm well spoken that that elevates me above a race of people you clearly dislike?'
Her husband somehow disappears.
'Well, I didn't mean to say that...'
I stop her short and wave a hand:
'No, nevermind. Keep your opinion. I'm sure it's good for something... if it's shaped like a shoehorn I'm almost positive you can use it to pry your foot out of your big fucking mouth. Enjoy the movie.'
I say and go on about my marry way. But still, I can't help but look back on that event and laugh. I mean what part of the country do these fucking idiots come from? Circa 1800s, the City State? I mean, there just has to be a place somewhere in America where people still wear colonial clothes, carry black powder rifles and call the KKK whenever their 'niggers' get out of line. There has to be. I don't see how, in any place in current day America, that anyone could learn values like that. You don't just go pick them up at the local drug store. Where the hell do these Time Warped Slavery Throwback idiots come from? They're almost as bad as Hippies at the grocery store. Vastly out of place and sound like a real jackass when they talk to people. I've related this story a few times to people, but never in any length or detail. This time I just felt the need- especially at this hour.
Whatever the reason for people like this, I certainly thank God they still exist. It gives me one more thing to hope for: If ever someone gets the sense to stop assassinating people who are actually a value to mankind and getting their Jolly Rox off on the more mundane, idiotic fools of the world, life will be all the more worth living. Could you imagine a world without 'Ass-Moles*' like this taking up space or sucking up valuable air? I swear, if I weren't such a generally nice guy in the public eye, I'd really have enjoyed tearing into this woman and her husband and son (whom stood around the whole time eating corn nuts and picking navel lint):
'Listen to me very carefully you low-rent Red Neck poster child for the Chokes-On-Cock missionary program. I don't like you, your red-skittle chewing, cheese doodle eating, sheep fucking, farm hand family and especially not your god damned septic tank of a father who taught you that bullshit and told you to teach it to your poor, fucked up children. You and your whole wagon of impeded, brain-dead FUCKS can go take a flying leap and land on a rotating penis in the middle of Iowa for all I care. Matter of fact, do the world a favor: Stop. Fucking. BREATHING. There's got to be some flesh eating disease somewhere that needs that valuable air a lot more than you do. God knows its worth more both economically and fundamentally than you and your whole dick-for-shit, show-shoving, advocates for a pie-eating contest in Southeast, 'Nigger-Keep-a-Steppin'' Mississippi you call a family. I really hope I run into you in the afterlife. In a big ass Celestial Mack Truck with the words 'Redneck Bowling' etched on the front of it in black embossed letters with your billfold and flip-out picture album of the Inborn 87 representing your whole generation stuck to the front just so I can hit you with it and say I've completed the Incest Circle.'
But frankly, I wouldn't waste my time or such a good insult on someone who was, is and always will be beneath me, simply because they're too stupid to step up to the level of the rest of society and realize that mankind has a goal. That goal is to mix all the races so we can all walk around and be the same greenish gray color and laugh at aliens with a unified prejudice outlook on things because they have horns instead of genitalia.
Really though, we should be forging out together into space, taking our whole fucked up society with us so we can sit back on high and laugh as our morals tear the very fiber from the society of aliens. Why? So we can beat them to the 'Planet-To-Planet World Conquering' punch before they come and put a foot in our stupid asses. And you just know there's some big, ironic bomb waiting to fall on all of us. Something we've taken for granted all the time is going to come back and bite us in the ass, believe you me. It'll probably be something dumb, too, like Toilet Paper or Hash Browns. We'll have had the key to Galactic Domination at our fingertips and been using it to drive railroad stakes in the ground or something. I bet it turns out to be corn; so unassuming, that corn.
Oh well. If anything, we can send letters to every religious group on the planet and ask them to pray that god turns racists into three fingered monkeys without the ability to breath and eat at the same time whom also happen to have an insatiable appetite. If not that, then at least turn them into the world's biggest geek's testicles so we're positive they get a daily beating they'll never forget.
Anyway, I'm done ranting, I'll run into you guys later when I'm old, drunk and have too much hair on my ass to shave. Or something.
~~~
* Ass-Moles - The little creatures that thrive in the warm blooded anus, feasting on God-knows-what. Nobody likes them. Its probably because of their irritating personality.
~~~
Level: 9 - Cynicism at Dangerous Levels!
Diagnosis: Toxic (As fuck!)
Response To Flaming Of Any Kind: Yes, please, come prove how stupid you are. Oh, by the way, we give a free Confederate Flag to the first dumbass.
Hybrid: Out.
And speaking of Dole. Quickly- was anyone wondering why this decrepit piece-of-a-man was running for office? The object of being the president is to have a two year or possibly four year plan that extends past, 'Try not to have a Cardiac arrest while at the podium speaking about the hazards of high cholesterol. Ironic Death = Bad Death', isn't it? Or did I just miss something? This man is so old he's got one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel and we're supposed to vote for him? - Fuck voting for him for a moment, let's switch to another important factor. Half of Dole's upper body is paralyzed, and it just happens to be the one side that's the most important. How do you swear a man in that can't raise his right. Fucking. Hand? I mean, honestly. Tie a string to it and have someone raise it off stage? PLEASE! Hell, I'm sure he entered fully expecting not to win. Could you imagine if he accidentally pulled through and did win? Well over half the country would be arrested for Involuntary Manslaughter because the bastard would have dropped over dead just as sure as they said he won. 'I won? Oh my goodn-- *high-pitched Heart Monitor tone*'.
But anyway, I digress, back to what I was saying about this woman. Now me, I'm a black guy, I'll tell you that in a heartbeat, but I'm not one of those freaks that run around throwing up gang signs, wearing my pants down below my ass with a belt on or scream things like 'Niggah True Playahz Fo' Real Dawg'. In fact, I pride myself on having proper spoken language most of the time, joking aside. This, however, seems to have been one of the qualities about myself that threw this woman for a loop. At the time I was in Cordova, or Bartlett at least, checking out the movie theatre. It's between shows and I'd decided to stay all day and just watch every movie I could in a single opening, right? Right. So I'm in a conversation with this average, middle of the road, white-bred American family. We're chatting it up, having a relatively good time watching this particular woman in question's husband pow away at some bad guys on an FPS (First Person Shooter) simulator. The guys really doing astonishingly well, even considering the time limit. Come to find out he's an Ex-Seal. So we start talking about that a bit and, long story short, his wife opens her big trap and let's something stupid roll out:
'I'm just so surprised... you're not like ... most people... like you.'
*CAR BRAKES* Stop. Did this bitch just say what I think she said? I give her a strange look and tilt my head, realizing at that very moment that I'd just found a mark. In fact, the only reason I didn't go off and decide to mess with her head at that moment was because I considered her husband a man of some intelligence whom apparently just married the wrong trick. She goes on:
'You're so well spoken and well mannered, nothing like those other ... people.'
At this point I'm imagining her doing that afore mentioned 'Stupid Hand Gesture' (or S.H.G.) for quotation marks. I turn to her and ask her what she means. She doesn't elaborate. I can tell that she senses she may have offended me because at this point I'm reading her expression so very closely I even notice when her heart changes tempo. Her eyebrows shift a bit; she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her eyes dart to the left. Sure sign she's got something to hide. We continue to talk and she continues to throw sidelong comments like that at me, at which point I humor the woman and we continue talking. She asks me what part of town I live in and where I came from. I tell her- Cordova in the suburbs (or did at the time). She goes on a bit about how Cordova's such a nice place and it doesn't have many 'of those people'. She then asks me where I was born because I don't talk like 'the people like me in this state.' I humor her still and mention that I was born in Beverly Hills, California (Which I was). She goes on again assuming I must be someone of some importance I'm sure from the way her face suddenly moved from uncomfortable to cheesily, fakely, ridiculously friendly. She tells me I sound like a very intelligent person and asks what I aspire to do, I elude the question by giving a simple answer:
'Well, I'm not sure yet, I'm still young and right now moving is the biggest thing on my mind.'
She chimes in:
'Oh, no, stay in Cordova. You don't want to be around 'those people.'
At this point I decide it's time to turn off the charm and throw a curve ball at her. I say:
'And who exactly are 'those people'?'
She stops and stares at me long enough for me to gather that she's searching for an answer, and doesn't go on. I almost burst out laughing but I hold it together long enough to fake anger:
'Do you mean Black People? So you're assuming that just because I'm well spoken that that elevates me above a race of people you clearly dislike?'
Her husband somehow disappears.
'Well, I didn't mean to say that...'
I stop her short and wave a hand:
'No, nevermind. Keep your opinion. I'm sure it's good for something... if it's shaped like a shoehorn I'm almost positive you can use it to pry your foot out of your big fucking mouth. Enjoy the movie.'
I say and go on about my marry way. But still, I can't help but look back on that event and laugh. I mean what part of the country do these fucking idiots come from? Circa 1800s, the City State? I mean, there just has to be a place somewhere in America where people still wear colonial clothes, carry black powder rifles and call the KKK whenever their 'niggers' get out of line. There has to be. I don't see how, in any place in current day America, that anyone could learn values like that. You don't just go pick them up at the local drug store. Where the hell do these Time Warped Slavery Throwback idiots come from? They're almost as bad as Hippies at the grocery store. Vastly out of place and sound like a real jackass when they talk to people. I've related this story a few times to people, but never in any length or detail. This time I just felt the need- especially at this hour.
Whatever the reason for people like this, I certainly thank God they still exist. It gives me one more thing to hope for: If ever someone gets the sense to stop assassinating people who are actually a value to mankind and getting their Jolly Rox off on the more mundane, idiotic fools of the world, life will be all the more worth living. Could you imagine a world without 'Ass-Moles*' like this taking up space or sucking up valuable air? I swear, if I weren't such a generally nice guy in the public eye, I'd really have enjoyed tearing into this woman and her husband and son (whom stood around the whole time eating corn nuts and picking navel lint):
'Listen to me very carefully you low-rent Red Neck poster child for the Chokes-On-Cock missionary program. I don't like you, your red-skittle chewing, cheese doodle eating, sheep fucking, farm hand family and especially not your god damned septic tank of a father who taught you that bullshit and told you to teach it to your poor, fucked up children. You and your whole wagon of impeded, brain-dead FUCKS can go take a flying leap and land on a rotating penis in the middle of Iowa for all I care. Matter of fact, do the world a favor: Stop. Fucking. BREATHING. There's got to be some flesh eating disease somewhere that needs that valuable air a lot more than you do. God knows its worth more both economically and fundamentally than you and your whole dick-for-shit, show-shoving, advocates for a pie-eating contest in Southeast, 'Nigger-Keep-a-Steppin'' Mississippi you call a family. I really hope I run into you in the afterlife. In a big ass Celestial Mack Truck with the words 'Redneck Bowling' etched on the front of it in black embossed letters with your billfold and flip-out picture album of the Inborn 87 representing your whole generation stuck to the front just so I can hit you with it and say I've completed the Incest Circle.'
But frankly, I wouldn't waste my time or such a good insult on someone who was, is and always will be beneath me, simply because they're too stupid to step up to the level of the rest of society and realize that mankind has a goal. That goal is to mix all the races so we can all walk around and be the same greenish gray color and laugh at aliens with a unified prejudice outlook on things because they have horns instead of genitalia.
Really though, we should be forging out together into space, taking our whole fucked up society with us so we can sit back on high and laugh as our morals tear the very fiber from the society of aliens. Why? So we can beat them to the 'Planet-To-Planet World Conquering' punch before they come and put a foot in our stupid asses. And you just know there's some big, ironic bomb waiting to fall on all of us. Something we've taken for granted all the time is going to come back and bite us in the ass, believe you me. It'll probably be something dumb, too, like Toilet Paper or Hash Browns. We'll have had the key to Galactic Domination at our fingertips and been using it to drive railroad stakes in the ground or something. I bet it turns out to be corn; so unassuming, that corn.
Oh well. If anything, we can send letters to every religious group on the planet and ask them to pray that god turns racists into three fingered monkeys without the ability to breath and eat at the same time whom also happen to have an insatiable appetite. If not that, then at least turn them into the world's biggest geek's testicles so we're positive they get a daily beating they'll never forget.
Anyway, I'm done ranting, I'll run into you guys later when I'm old, drunk and have too much hair on my ass to shave. Or something.
~~~
* Ass-Moles - The little creatures that thrive in the warm blooded anus, feasting on God-knows-what. Nobody likes them. Its probably because of their irritating personality.
~~~
Level: 9 - Cynicism at Dangerous Levels!
Diagnosis: Toxic (As fuck!)
Response To Flaming Of Any Kind: Yes, please, come prove how stupid you are. Oh, by the way, we give a free Confederate Flag to the first dumbass.
Hybrid: Out.