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Carbon Mike
Future Radio: Foundationalism Online


Recently I was headed down to Café Wakanda to acquire some lithe ebony companionation, when, lo and take hold, my James T. Kirk model flip phone started buzzing. As I picked up the device that is forever stuck on vibrate, I did notice that the magic negro button was blinking black & tan, so, having been summoned by one of the rare counterparts of my white devil self, I abided by the sacred pledge I gave once under the Palletwood Tree down in Darkest Baltimore, when Monondo Cay, sacrificed a goat meat pie over Big Sam’s bloodstain, where Ron Bone’s redneck buddies had stomped out the venerable alcoholic in the alley behind Caucasian Avenue—a venerable place of converging forces, where Henessey Andre saved me from two buck hoodrats and Joe Slim drove four bull thugs to ground—I flipped open that barely infernal device and entered into conclave with the newest magic negro in my ever-widening circle of dark alliance.

“Jimmy, I need some advice, Brother. I’m working in the Land of Political Correctness and I just had to listen to this middle-aged, liberal white woman tell me that young black men should be respected and applauded for wearing their pants down around their knees and performing gangster rap. I’m a black conservative—and I know that doesn’t compute—so what the hell do I say to that?”

“Carbon Mike, you had the opportunity to align your dark crystals of power with a coal-burning ivory shower, but you let slip that needful bitch whore—and I forgive you. What that pale lady thirsted for was for you to get up from your desk, walk over to her, slap her manfully across the cheek, and then, to her pouting look of shock and desire, say, in your middleweight version of Fats Domino, “Because I’m Carbon Mike, Bitch—a fucking opaque element!”

At some point Carbon Mike and I will get together and melt liberal minds at Café Wakanda, but the Dog Star and the North Star are not quite yet in alignment with this fucked up planet.

In the meantime, check out Carbon Mike at the smallest ideological zip code in all of creation, Deistic Black Futuristic Conservatism, at:

https://www.futurerad.io/podcast/

Letters from Planet Meathead: A Fighter’s View of Postmodern Physical Culture

https://www.amazon.com/Letters-Planet-Meathead-Fighters-Postmodern/dp/1503353591/ref=sr_1_57?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1511039082&sr=1-57&refinements=p_27%3AJames+LaFond

Add Comment
Daniel LandonApril 5, 2018 8:37 AM UTC

Absolutely awesome! Not just funny but profound on so many levels. Liberalism is a true disease that can only be eradicated through their own acceptance of their own pure ignorance and insanity. As well, clearly the woman required the proverbial club to the head. She was clearly subconsciously requesting to be taken back to the cave for some hedonistic destruction. God Bless the Neanderthal. Lafond is always on point. Great piece. I look forward to much more of the "dueling bojangos." Rock on.!
Tony CoxMarch 13, 2018 11:27 AM UTC

This is the funniest shit I’ve read in a long time!
responds:March 13, 2018 3:48 PM UTC

Carbon Mike and I always have a good time with our dueling bojangos of social dissidence.