Funky Cold Medina

I’ve had a chessburger for breakfast/lunch for the past few days. Perhaps I should start a countdown to my death now. When I say, I need to eat better I mean in it the way smokers say “I need to quit.”

I was in a cab the other day and the cab driver was quite stereotypical. The first thing he said to me was “the jews are ruining everything, my firend!” He was talking specifically about his business that day. It was a high holy day and according to him, “they expect the whole city to shut down.” I could tell his anger was at something bigger and maybe something a bit more life consuming. I wouldn’t doubt if he’s the kind of person that wakes up, stubs his toe and yells “JEWS!” I wouldn’t doubt that the moment he laid eyes on his deformed whale baby he exclaimed to the heavens, “JEWS!”

He was in a good mood though and kept narrating how he felt about the traffic with pepperings of the familial “my friend.” There was a point where I suddenly found that phrase amazingly unoriginal. Really? My friend? That again? Come on man, every cab driver says that! Watch a movie! Use someting from that. I would prefer that movie be from the 80s. So then cabbies would say stuff like, “Where are you going, home skillet?”
“That’ll be $11, brotherman.”
“No Brooklyn, sexual chocolate soul brother!”

At least I can feel like I have some style. Once you get called that you feel like that. I’ll get out walking and talking like a graphic from a Parliament Funkadelic Album cover. I’ll be like,
“Yeah, I dig!
Let me put my sunglasses on.
That’s the law around here, you got to wear your sunglasses.
So you can feel cool.
Gangster lean.
Y’all should dig my sun-rooftop.
Well, allright. Hey I was diggin’ on y’alls funk for awhile.
Sounds like it got a three on it though, to me.
Then I was down south and I heard some funk with some main ingredients
Like Doobie Brothers, Blue Magic, David Bowie.
It was cool,
But can you imagine Doobiein’ your funk? Ho!
WEFUNK, we funk.”

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