Thursday, August 31, 2006
Lost Bird Gains New Nationality
Faremount. While working at his "day job", Lost Bird was approached by former Armstench, IA police officer now repair technician Steve Ogre. Mr. Ogre, who is one of those people that have a boundary problem, and like to talk, point within a person's private space; and is also one of those people that talk over you, know more than you, and has been there and done that and if you've done before, well...he's done it 10 times better.
"Well," Mr. Ogre began, "Mr. Big Kahuna is here."
"Yeah, Steve," I answered bothered, "what do you want?"
"Well, your hair....as curly and long as it is, you look like a sand nigger."
Now, granted, my psychologist will tell you* that I've got a bit of an anger management problem. So as red lights were flashing off and on in my head, I grabbed his shirt and slammed him into our shelves.
"If you know what's good for you." I spat, "You'll shut your (expletive) mouth before I knock you're goddamn (expletive) teeth out."
"What?" he asked miffed, "Did I offend you?"
That got me thinking. Did it offend me? Actually, the name itself was not an insult to me. It was more or less the man's ignorance in this day and age. And how he thought the term "sand nigger" was okay. How is this ever okay?
Well, I place it in my many nationalities that I have become thanks to the ignorance of the people who share my air. Right now: I'm Itallian, Korean, Mexican, (expletive) Wetback, Nigger, Phillipino, Chink, Nigra (i think that's an African AMerican with a hard on), Maori, Mowi, and now a sand nigger.
*um, my psychologist, Dr. Sweetass, would like me to say that if you did ask him about my anger management problem he could not tell you as per HIPPA, and client patient confidentiality. The only way he would share this information is if you were an intended target that I was going to place harm upon. That, or a crisp fifty.
"Well," Mr. Ogre began, "Mr. Big Kahuna is here."
"Yeah, Steve," I answered bothered, "what do you want?"
"Well, your hair....as curly and long as it is, you look like a sand nigger."
Now, granted, my psychologist will tell you* that I've got a bit of an anger management problem. So as red lights were flashing off and on in my head, I grabbed his shirt and slammed him into our shelves.
"If you know what's good for you." I spat, "You'll shut your (expletive) mouth before I knock you're goddamn (expletive) teeth out."
"What?" he asked miffed, "Did I offend you?"
That got me thinking. Did it offend me? Actually, the name itself was not an insult to me. It was more or less the man's ignorance in this day and age. And how he thought the term "sand nigger" was okay. How is this ever okay?
Well, I place it in my many nationalities that I have become thanks to the ignorance of the people who share my air. Right now: I'm Itallian, Korean, Mexican, (expletive) Wetback, Nigger, Phillipino, Chink, Nigra (i think that's an African AMerican with a hard on), Maori, Mowi, and now a sand nigger.
*um, my psychologist, Dr. Sweetass, would like me to say that if you did ask him about my anger management problem he could not tell you as per HIPPA, and client patient confidentiality. The only way he would share this information is if you were an intended target that I was going to place harm upon. That, or a crisp fifty.
