A gross metaphor from last night. I was hanging out with actor, Eric Anderson and comedian Eric Thomas and for some reason we were talking about having the runs (probably because we were standing in McDonald’s) and I was saying that I have amazing sphincter control and I can hold the runs until I get home, but once i get home to a toilet I recognize (here it is) its like someone blowing a trumpet full of chocolate milk. Then I mimed the trumpet and made trumpet sounds. Yeah, you’re never gonna think about Jazz and Nestle Quick in the same way again.
Since I ate McD’s last night I needed to go this morning. I went to the Sheraton Hotel today and I went to the men’s room. It was a lot grosser than I expected so I used my aformentioned skill until I got home (Sphincter Powers Activate!). But while I was in there I looked at the bathroom door and in very loving letters was written “Give a Nigger a Job, He Fucks it up Everytime.” I hope he was talking about Condoleeza! Oh! My favorite thing though was that it was written a few times on various places of the door which could mean a variety of things.
1) Someone rubbed off the older ones because they could write it better.
2) The older ones faded naturally and someone decided to write it again so it could be passed down to younger generations.
3) The original author scrubbed them himself because he was disappointed with the way the letters turned out or didn’t feel the message was really their in the earlier drafts. Or…
4) They wanted to make sure you really understood what was being said so they wrote it multiple times for emphasis like a piece of poetry or an expressionist word painting.
Regardless of the reason, I thought to myself does the women’s room have stuff like this up? You never hear about weird racist or sexist shit written on the female bathroom walls. Maybe the occasional “Jenny’s a slut” but never “For a good time call Earl” or “Niggers and Spics have too many kids!” In my experience, when a women feels a degree of racism, they go have sex with someone of that race. Some of my best relationships started that way. I guess the moral of the story is I’m doing my part to end racism, one vagina at a time. So when you see me with a white girl, give my a thumbs up or pat on the back and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, “Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”
Any thoughts ladies?