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I'm Tired of White People (And by "People" I mean 50 to 90 year old men...with penises.)

 

Okay, I said it. I’m tired. Fed up. F’shtunk’d and downright verplotzed with the white American Man. Listen, I’m not a racist. (Some of my best friends are white.) And isn’t  everyone tired of Hillbilly comedians; hairy, disenfranchised boy-men; sexually hopeless bearded geeks who secretly breakdance really well and are actually qualified to rule the world if only their alcoholic fathers, hot blonde cheerleaders and Charlize Theron would acknowledge their true greatness?)

     I’m fed up with trying to navigate the empty thought caves abandoned by long-dead puritan land-stealers, slave-owning drunken Indian fighters and World War II Whores. Yes: I don’t give a shit about “The Greatest Generation.” Acknowledgement of Black involvement in World War II, though overwhelmingly heroic, is as hard to find in the mainstream historical record as a taped interview with Bigfoot. Besides, most—-if not all—-of the Greatest Generation are dead or shitting in their diapers these days; wishing like hell that they could turn back the clock to a “simpler” time; a time when women understood their God-given inferiority; when God was in His White Heaven and blacks were smart enough to keep their big mouths shut. Yeah, I love the Greatest Generation; the Generation that looked at Japan—-a bankrupt nation on the verge of surrender—-and dropped atom bombs on its unsuspecting civilians. Meanwhile Adolph Hitler ass-raped entire races of human beings. But no nuclear bitch-slap for Berlin, no: "Uncle Klaus and Aunt Hirdy-Girdy live in Berlin! Bomb the Japs! Nobody’s actually related to them!" Eat it, Greatest Generation. 

     For a while there, back in the 80’s and even early 90’s, it seemed like the country was straining toward some kind of understanding, a new cultural gestalt wherein everyone understood that the old puritanical ways of thinking were on their way out. Everyone was afraid of dying in a nuclear war and Sting was the King of the Universe. Then George W. Fucking Bush became “President,” and the national debate turned into one big Nascar rally; a rally that dragged the country—-James Bird style—-through the Violent Special Ed cafeteria of the most vicious High School  since the Marquis de Sade graduated from Cruella De Vil Abbatoir & Country Day Prep.

     Nearly everyone I encounter these days seems to have given up I.Q. points just to get through the day. Nearly everyone I meet seems to think it’s okay to bomb the shit out of Iraqi wedding parties just because a decade ago, some dumb-ass Muslim extremists hit the World Trade Center instead of Bernie Madoff’s second beach house.  

     Most irritating is this Judeo-Christian fascination with so-called End-Times. As an atheist, I’m sick of watching the metaphorical death throes of Whitey’s illegitimate and largely illusional “culture.” I say: LET IT DIE! Guess what, Tom? There are fresher perspectives out there, if you’d only pull your head out of grandfather’s checkbook  long enough to look: People of color, women, atheists, agnostics and non-Judeo-Christians; the handicapped and Gay, lesbian and yes, trans-gendered people. (Although my friend ‘Gale’ lives and dresses like a woman—-living as a man living as a trans-gendered, bi-sexual hermaphrodite. Sometimes I think ‘Gale’ is just plain silly.)

     For anyone who needs more proof of the fundamental decline of The White Man, I’ll point them to the so-called Super Committee, appointed by the President to set our debt issues in order. Those guys are for the most part so white that the backs of my eyeballs throb when I look at them. John Boehner is a White Man, for Christ’s sake. If Boehner isn’t the poster-boy for the end of white male supremacy I don’t know what is.

     The aforementioned President Bush and “Vice-President” Frankenstein Junior screwed the country as hard as they could before evacuating their dying seeds of destruction all over the face of the American Dream. Laughing all the way to the banks they subsidized, they handed the keys to a broken nation to the first non-threatening black dude who came along and fucked-off back to West Texas or Upper Right Montana or whatever hyper-conservative shit-ditch welcomes these people.  Now the whole country is too busy dodging giant mutant chickens coming home to roost to remember who schtupped the golden goose. Here’s a hint…

     It sure as Hell wasn’t Morgan Fucking Freeman. 

     I’m tired of White People.          

(Michael Boatman)