Thursday 7/10/14, 8:34 am
It is not a proud day to be a white man in Harm City. I sit on a bus full of black working people going to and fro their shitty jobs in their company polo shirts. Then two of my people get on. This is a cross town bus, which means it always has stoners on board. You see drug-addicted drunks spend their entire lives shuttling between the hospitals, courts, police stations, and rehab clinics that are the focal points of the city bus routes. Drunken brawls, stoned falls, pavement arrests for possession—really, how many knees in the back can one dope-fiend take before he has to up his pain killer intake?—make these guys as beat up at 40 as a 1970s NFL player.
To everyone’s dread the inevitable conversation starts. I will not spell this the way it sounded, as that would be irritating to some readers who have a hard time with slang dialogue in print. Suffice it to say that a cigarette smoking, pot-smoking, pill-popping, crack-smoking, smack-firing alcoholic sounds like a 70 year old deaf, downs’ syndrome sufferer. They speak loud, double up on all vowels, and repeat themselves between three and five times. I will also not loop the dialogue. Just know that I listened to the following conversation for 25 minutes. Imagine taking 25 minutes to say this:
Stoner Fool [SF]: “Fuck man! Fuck!”
Stoner Genius [SG]: “What man? What!”
SF: “My leg man, my leg!”
SG: “I thought the doc fixed it.”
SF: “He put me in a space suit man. I said, ‘What the fuck doc?’ en he says, ‘What da fuck what?’ So I’m like look maaann [sorry, I could not resist] I’m not goin’ to no outer space, so why the fuck am I in a space suit?’”
SG: “So man, what did he say?”
SF: “He said he put all kind a metal junk in there man, holding my leg together, so I have the space boot.”
SG: “I thought they had you in the suit.”
SF: “No man, just a factor of speech. I just had the boot. But this bigass boot might as well have been the whole suit—like how am I gonna defend myself with this fuckin’ boot man. Last time I was casted up dudes fuckin’ mugged me man. Slapping this fuzzy shit on you is like putting a ‘fuck with me’ sign on my back man! Fuckin’ docs man—nails in my fickin’ leg, holdin’ my fuckin’ bones in place! Fuck!”
Keep in mind that these guys are so loud that no one else on the bus can even have a conversation without shouting, so we all remain silent listening to these two.
SG: “Man, that shit ain’t nails—it’s screws man.”
SF: “I know I’m screwed man. You don’t have to fuckin’ rub it in!”
SG: “I ain’t rubbin’ shit man. I said, those are screws—had my own leg bolted together before from that fuckin’ pig down in Highland Town.”
SF: “Man, I said I know I’m screwed, and I would have bolted if I a knowed he was a fuckin’ narc! Pig did not identify him self! I am suin’ that fucker, suin’ the whole city! These nails in my leg are killing me and my old lady’s son snagged my Oxy’s.”
SG: “Look, they don’t put nails in your leg man.”
SF: “It’s metal man—so it’s a fuckin’ nail! It hurts, so it’s a fuckin’ nail! Ain’t wherein’ that fuckin’ space boot man—God this shit hurts—fuckin’ nails in my leg.”
SG: “Hey man, remember the time we stomped the shit out of that dude down in Pig Town for fuckin’ with our shit!”
SF: “Yeah man, what’s his face. Can’t do that shit with a space boot and nails in your leg man!”
I offloaded from that bus at this point in the conversation three hours ago. I have to believe, that somewhere that conversation is still ongoing.
I do not like the name of this article.
Or I should say, I do not like the subtitle.
I think the title sucks and that the subtitle is only redeemed by its offensive ending.
How about "Two Arguments For Eugenics"? :)
Maureen I am going to write an article making the case for white genocide. Look what it did for Moses people. Football teams do the same thing in August; it is called 'the cut'.
Genociding any people is wrong. I am especially concerned when one talks about doing it to MY people.
Eugenics is what is needed. Right now, the dumbest people (of every shade) are being paid to breed-as you so aptly showcase in your writing. So to start with this dysgenic policy needs to end.
To any ruling elite—especially an elite with control of vast force-multiplication technology—encouraging the easily led, easily frightened, and easily upset segments of society to multiply is the most sound policy. This is their eugenics [good-birthing] program, with 'good' defined in terms of social malleability. Once the state gets direct control over the birthing part, goodnight humanity.