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Am I Racist?

Daniel Tosh of Tosh.0 posted a copy of a note for some guy named "Dave", his mother had written to him when they had left home for the weekend and let Steve work around the yard.  The note read, “Dave, Dad and I are canoeing.  Steve is here working so if you see a black man with a machete... it’s ok! -Mom”


I saw a black man walking down the street with a pint glass full of beer the other day. I guess that means I'm a racist. That was only after he had earlier asked me for a cigarette three different times. Then he comes walking up to me and asks me if I want a beer. I asked, "You have beer?" He said, "No, but I'll go buy us some." I said, "That's ok man. You don't have to do that, but thanks." A few minutes later he showed up just walking down the middle of town with his pint glass full of beer. I swear, I'm sorry for being prejudice.  I really didn't think he'd come through with the beer, or I would have taken him up on his offer. Forgive me, but I do think his name was Steve.


A couple days before that I saw a white guy walking down the street smoking a cigarette.  He was crossing the street and approaching the corner where there was a black man wearing a nice blue shirt and tie and a pair of dress slacks.  As they encountered each other I could not hear what was said because I was too far away, but then something strange happened.  The white guy took one last drag off his cigarette and then handed it to the well dressed black guy.  This was not Steve.


Just a couple of days ago, I was in a restaurant at around 10am before they were opened for business.  The young girl who had just unlocked the door and was trying to start getting set up for the day was behind the bar when in walked a  not so well dressed black man black man.  She said, “Can I help you?”  He approached the bar and said, “I want some wings.”  She said, “I’m sorry, we’re not opened yet.  You’ll have to come back at noon.”  This did not satisfy the not so well dressed black man and he retorted, “Somebodies got an attitude up in here!”  She responded by saying, “Excuse me, but we’re not opened.  The fryers haven’t even been turned on yet.”  The not so well dressed black man huffed out the door telling her she didn’t have to be rude.


I’ve said this several times before, but these are the kinds of things you see while living on the streets.  Does it make one a racist just because one passively observes strange scenarios involving three different black guys (one named Steve) within the space of a week of time?


I haven’t written anything down lately.  Call it a case of writer’s block, or the fact that I never replaced my lost pen and haven’t been carrying my notepad around with me, but I didn’t need a notepad for this.  I just needed Dave’s Mom to remind me.  Thanks Tosh!


Am I a racist?  A friend once said, “I don’t care what color you are, just give me back that money I loaned you!”  Talking about race is always a sensitive subject, but let me just tell you, living in Plantation County allows one to see the world through a different set of glasses... pint glasses that is.  The fact of the matter is Steve, the black guy who offered to buy me a beer after asking for cigarettes three times ALWAYS asks me for cigarettes and I never have any to give him.  He walks around approaching people for cigarettes all day long, but one thing I’ve never heard him ask for is money!  In fact, he always offers a quarter for the smoke.


On the other hand, Bozo number one, of two, sits on her fat ass all day long holding up a sign that says she’s homeless and hungry.  All while sitting there with a cup of Starbucks coffee and chain smoking cigarettes.  Her “boyfriend”, Bozo number two, never asks anybody for money.  He just pimps her out until the end of the day when you’ll see him shuffle down to the store to buy another pack, and then stumble aimlessly into a bar for a beer.  Neither of the Bozo’s are black, but Bozo number one sure is fat.  


Besides these two morons, there’s only a couple others I can think of that ask for money.  One is a crackhead, race to remain unmentioned.  And the other is a belligerent fat bitch that you can occasionally find out of the street at 5am asking anybody she encounters for money.  Usually, if I’m up at 5am, I’m the only person out there besides her and the street sweepers, but she always asks me; only the last time I refused her she told me to “Fuck off!”  So, I told her the same.


There are only a few street people, homeless people that I associate with.  Mainly, it’s the street musicians who are at least trying to sing for their supper, but never with anybody asking for cash.  I’ve thought about doing this myself and it may be that time, but I’ve gotta get my hands on a guitar I’m waiting on from Bubba, a black guy who said he was going to give me one he had gotten.  I gave him my guitar for safe keeping because he can play and he had a sheltered spot to keep it.  I told him it was his when I gave it to him and if I never saw it again, that was fine, but I think it’s time to get hold of the Washburn he promised me.


I know, I know, there are those of you out there who would only have one thing to say to me.  That being, “Get a job!”  You’re really funny, but am I really a racist?









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