This morning I glanced at my lady friend’s TV to see the band that was playing a pleasantly upbeat country song of which I can recall nothing, being musically retarded.
A band led by a small, older, pleasant-looking, kind-faced, light-skinned man of African American descent was playing in a bar, waiting for the lead singer in his black hat. The foremost groupie was a tall blonde woman of European American descent—blonde, always blonde. As the fair-singing man entered the bar a large, menacing, bearded and long-haired bouncer of the ghost race barred his entry due to his racial heritage, an occurrence that I have never observed or heard tell of in my 55-years. Of the many bouncers I have known they only bar violent people. This is generalized by black ghetto bouncers to include men under 35, as youth is the violence predictor and middle-aged men are rarely suspected of disruption unless they have a record of violence in that establishment.
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