Be Racist, I’m Bored (#1, The African Colony)

Look at Me when I talk to you Honky

Dear Honkies

I am quite certain that you understand the present predicament we are in. Watch a news channel, turn to a radio station, open up a web page: I’m not there. Now I understand you people are quite busy at present times, bed bath and beyond is having a sale and there’s a Paul McCartney concert going on somewhere. I know none of you would deny the interdependent relationship we have, you give me my deserved airtime and I give you access to my people. This relationship I would say personally is the pillar that holds America. I am something; I would like to say, without tooting my own horn, that I’m like the Berlin Wall of America except with a little window so you can talk to the other side when you feel like it. But it seems to me that you have forgotten our arrangement. For the past 4 months there hasn’t been one single racist action on your part. I run to my dictionary to find a word to describe this: Unacceptable, Unbelievable, and Unfair. None of these words suffice, Unproper I think is fitting.

Now it would be very easy for me to insult you powder white, skin cancer getting, tofu eating, light liquor drinking, crackas but my older brother Martin Luther King taught me to do better than that, you might have heard of him. Tall, short hair, and he had this speech about dreams you might know, I wrote that. How can it be that you disgusting whites, who harbor such hate of other races such as: spicks, chinks, curry lovers, and African- Americans can hold your hate at bay. I know it’s there, so just let it out.

Now I been around whites and I know you people can be shy and I know what you’re thinking, “we might hurt someone’s feelings if we do something racist.” You couldn’t be more wrong, you see my people adore me. At first they might have the usual reactions: complaining and rioting and what have you, but later when they see what your racist action has brought about, they will appreciate your actions and even express their gratitude (though in much more different and subtle forms than you are accustomed to). Take Don Imus for example, Don Imus said something racist about the greatest race on earth. At first people were upset at what he said, but then I took over the situation, and used my tact and eloquence to resolve the situation, helping Imus get some much needed vacation time. I will send him a letter requesting a thank you tomorrow.

Now I didn’t want to bring up this next topic but you whites are damn stubborn, I know this because I am a studier of historic events that happened, and history alludes to the fact that you: whites, are indeed stubborn. The topic that I had alluded to earlier about not wanting to bring up is this: (see I actually bring it up because I am not shy like you whites; another one of your many many faults.) The topic is Slavery. My ancestors suffered immensely because of you white people, they were worked to the bone, fed bones, and beaten with sticks and stones, and don’t you dare deny it stubborn white man, I saw roots…twice. Considering this, I think you’d agree, despite your previously stated stubbornness that you should make right your transgression, and you can do this with reparations. This perhaps may not be the first time you’ve heard this word, for I am sure many of your people own dictionaries much like my own, and command vocabularies similar (but not equal) to mine. Though you may understand the meaning of the word I’m not quite sure you understand the word. What reparation means is to repair damage you have done to a certain race of people, like maybe perhaps the greatest race of people on earth maybe, by doing something good for their descendants. But wait, dictionary definitions are not always correct, exactly. The definition I gave you for reparations is what my dictionary says, but I know it’s wrong (I wonder why). Financially you honkies are quite healthy, but it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to give money to every African American in this country who has suffered from your enslaving ways. So there really is only one solution, instead of giving reparations to all African-Americans, give them to one, the greatest African American ever.

Be Racist, I’m Bored (#2, The Middle Passage)

But who is the greatest African American ever? Who is this magical negro? Tough question for a honkie. I know there’s so many of us to choose from, but I and a team of high powered analysts who just so happen to be stars of their college communities, or as you call them, “community colleges,” have an answer. Anyway I and these analysts came to this conclusion the greatest African Americans are: Sacagewea (long story), Jesus (dont argue honkie), Fat Albert, Tupac, and I. Naturally Jesus would win, but he told me to go ahead and take this one. I hear from him, you honkies can’t because you’re fake Christians. That being said, it is only right to bestow the graces of reparations upon the greatest living African American which is me. I do not say this tooting, in any manner, my own horn I am simply stating what the research of fine scholars proves, but before you crackers start signing checks, hold your pens. In order to understand the reasoning behind the pen holding, I will bless you with an anecdote of a recent happening. On the Friday before the one coming, I drove to the Salon and inside I went to put my hair in a state of relaxation (that’s a perm cracker). As always I parked the shiny Bentley In front of the salon so that black elegance could stare at black elegance while getting more black and elegant. So what do I see as Boniqua starts to shampoo my gorgeous locks? A damn wetback giving me a ticket, some noisy nonsense about me parking on a bus stop in front of a hydrant. As the Lord Jesus Christ liveth, before whom I stand, I went out there and I gave that spick some hell. Saint Maria couldn’t deliver him from all that, but then that poncho wrote more tickets, but I’ll tell you honkies what I told that beaner: “I’m rich.” You wanna know why I said it? I said it because it’s true, I said it because I have money and lots of it, after all I am a head of a not for profit organization called a church. With that being said I really don’t need your money, what I need is what you whities can do for me that I can’t do myself: Spread a little bigotry.

Another thing about you hicks is your lack of creative ability. You are reading this letter right now, asking President Sharpton (you can start calling me that now to get used to it) how to go about creating racism for his glorious endeavors. Well honky as always, a black man has your ass covered. There are many ways you can go about bigotrizing. The easiest, and I believe most efficient way would be to say the “n-word,” (yes, that one).” Yes cracker, you are given permission say it. I’m sure you’re thinking, do I have to be near an African-american to say it? The answer, honkie, is no you don’t. That’s the beauty of this magic word, you can say it anywhere, and you will get an immediate response. What you need to understand is that saying this “n-word” creates a buildup. The mercury rises to the mellifluous sounds of this “n-word,” as your ass whooping commences. The kind of atmospheric tension I need for my sensitive operations, rises from this “n-word.” You see this word has mystical properties. It creates a time machine with African-Americans and hillbillies returning to a day where whites were better than the best race on Earth. Fortunately, now, there is always an African-American nearby to snap your white ass back to reality. But fret not my Caucasian cousin, (I say cousin because there’s this theory archaeological people are throwing around, though I highly dispute it, that all human beings come from Africa, which means, some way some how, you honkies are related to me, don’t get excited, it’s just theory). Before I told you about your relation to me I spoke of a great beating you would receive. What is important cracker is to know what this beating will lead to: An officer will come, the case will go to court, and news channels will report the incident, completely ignoring the fact that your ass was indeed whooped. And if the news can forget your ass whooping, so should you. As a direct result of your pain, a greater good will be brought about: I will race to the scene of the incident, I will report fervently on the case, and my face will be broadcasted all over the country. Justice will be demanded, and justice will be served.

Be Racist, I’m Bored (#3, Arrival and Bondage)

Cracker, before I go on I would like to examine the word, “cracker.” You see, I adapted the word cracker to describe you honkies for one reason, and that is because it is a good way to describe you honkies. A cracker (the one you eat) is brittle, pale,bland, undesirable, bitter, and often pretends to be sophisticated. You crackers (the ones you do not eat) are the same. Now an African American can be described in a similar fashion, as some sort of cookie. An African American is a double fudge cookie. In the same way cracker is used to describe a honkie a double fudge cookie can be used to describe us, African Americans. Double fudge cookies are elegant, bold, refined, sweet, chocolatey, delicious, go down good in your tummy, put ‘em in the microwave and they come out all melty and soft and your mouth is watering while you watching them go round and round in the microwave, and then you eat all of them and you gotta run to the store and get some more but the store ran out so you have to sue the store for racial profiling against an African American who wants some damn double fudge cookies. African Americans are that too. Double fudge cookies are clearly better than crackers, and I know you would agree honkie so in turn you would also agree that African Americans are better than whites. But what is my point in brining up the clear dominance of double fudge cookies over crackers, African Americans over honkies? I don’t know.

Being a honkie, which you are, I know that you are not very intellectually smart. So you’re probably wondering why I want you to do something racist. It’s simple honkie. An act of racism occurs and happens then I, being a political activist, and political action star, political action hero, go to the scene of the crime to diffuse the situation, like a bomb in one of your honkie movies where the African-American dies early on. When the American people see I, fixing situations like this, they think things like “Wow he would be a great president because he has great negative situation diffusing skills.” After I become president, I will forever fix the problem of racism in this country. I will separate you crackers from the rest of society and place you on a beautiful island all your own, some place called “Rikers.” Trust me when I tell you honkies it is the perfect place for you. I know many people who have visited the island and they love it there, so much so that they go back there almost immediately after they come out. So if you honkies don’t do it for anything else, do it for yourself, do it for a much needed vacation, and if that doesn’t motivate you, think of all the lives you’ve ruined, and the African-Americans you’ve enslaved, think of how for once in your life you can stop being such a selfish honky, Think of someone besides yourself. It’s your turn white-boy, go. Do something racist. Today. I’m not busy this weekend.

Play Ball! Please? (#1) I call This My “Intro”

“Think fast!” That’s what old Rummy told me the day after I got sworn in, you know, made it official that I was the president of these United States. Why’d he say “Think fast!?” I’ll tell you why. Because he threw me the football, that’s why. Yes, you see, after the dinners, and the parties, and the dinner parties, you’ve got to go to work. The president has to roll up his sleeves and attack the problems that trouble the American people. The first order of business was the football, and when Rummy threw it at me, and I caught it, of course, I couldn’t help but feel all the responsibility that just got thrown at me. That was the one and only time I was gonna be the receiver. From then on, I was the quarterback, that’s the guy who holds the football and makes decisions with it. Quarterbacks, take the one down in Texas for example, I come from Texas. Take engine number nine in Dallas. Me and engine number nine have a lot in common. My job is a decision making job, and as a result, I make a lot of decisions. Engine number nine is a quarterback. His job is a decision making job, and as a result, he makes a lot of decisions. Some call him a “quarterback,” some call me a “president,” but really, what’s the difference? I won’t answer that one for you, I’ll let that one be food for the mind, you’re welcome.

Anyway, as I was saying, I got the football, and became the “q-b.” I wrapped my hands around its laces, and felt the warm embrace of the pigskin. I felt loved. That’s the kind of unconditional love that keeps you going. It doesn’t matter what the media says about you, ‘cause you’ve got unconditional love. It doesn’t matter what the United Nations members whisper behind your back, or what they say when you’re not there, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’ve got unconditional love. It doesn’t matter what a weapons inspector sees or doesn’t see, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’ve got unconditional love. Even a hurricane, no matter how fierce and devastating, can’t stand up to unconditional love. Unconditional love, now that’s the America I believe in.