Because racism is such a sensitive topic, I have bought extra strong 9% Kestrel beer to help me get drunk enough to write this, and I have done it all for me. I mean you.
In my time writing for Salient, I have ranted on comedy topics as diverse as being right, and its arch nemesis perhaps; movies, cowboys, laser weapons, brutality in NZ metal, and the silly antics of the vuwarse. To give you a taste of what’s coming in my future columns, I have stayed in bed all week for the sacred triangular geometry of energy vs laziness vs caffiene addiction jokes, I have jokes about stuff, things, science and relationships, I have jumped off buildings in my superman undies to test for gravity, I have done classics like wily willy jokes, fart jokes, men and women jokes, I have gone far out with science and plastic bag warnings, far in with spirituality, and I have even done modern takes on old standards like The Horror Story Reverse Fart Joke.
I have nagged President Freemantle like a maniac for one of those full body penis getups that dude Joel wore to a fancy dress party last year (Everyone else just went as a lawyer). Our wigga Joel was keeping it real though.
But let’s talk about racing. I used to live down the road from a black dude, so there’s no calling me a racist. None of us really wanted him there, we always thought he was going to burgle us or whatever. He kept on coming round to introduce himself, and people say we should’ve got to know him, but we were too busy getting our locks changed all the time. Is this racist? It turns out no, it isn’t. There is also a black dude in my lab, so now I am doubly unracist. Let me give you an example of good old-fashioned Kiwi racism. Suppose, after I told you my Indian girlfriend was pregnant, and you then said to me “No! Don’t! Indian people smell funny and there are way too many of them already!” then you would be racist, and everyone would write letters in to Jackson, he would fire me for even knowing you, then I might pass a paper or two this semester. Jackson would apologise, and honourably step down from his post as editor, getting a sweet clerical job involving slightly less sitting down, due to photocopier parameters. Clerical positions where yelling and put-downs are supressed into middle-aged conformity is the most terrible effect of racism. Oh, and people getting killed by Hitler and stuff.
I am politically correct. Like Snoop Dogg, I am a member of the Green Party. And like Snoop Dogg, I am wearing a big baggie FUBU jacket in my swimming pool. It’s actually my neighbour’s pool; being a student I can’t be bothered using my own, it’s all full of beer cans and condoms, man, somebody needs to clean that shit up. I think I’ll hire some foreign servant, pay ‘em fuck all. So here I am, eating my weet-bix and milk out of hollowed out tomatoes that I’ve spray-painted black so I’m not racist, and still get my calcium. How this came about was that I took this bit of the column using ctrl-x and ctrl-v’d it right to the start, because the original start wasn’t brutally racist enough to get shock value out of today’s sense-deprived, numbed out, uncaring add internet generation. It was also extremely boring. And here is that start:
Unleashing Nasal Hair Upon True Love
This column has been indefinitely postponed until I begin it.
Back to Racism
In spite of all these fun things, I have not been entirely truthful with you all, and it’s time for me to let the proverbial bag out of the cat. People, I lied to you before. I am a racist. I am a brutal hardcore meanie-pants racist. So in between yelling out of my car at people, slashing funding in my political party, I have been thrashing my Vanilla Ice and Eminem gangsta rock albums to better understand the plight of the black man.
I used to hate tomatoes. For no other reason than they tasted shit. I also hated Iraqi tomatoes. Them and their dirty red skins, and their green hair, and being all soury, and hogging all the oil from American fatties who need it to fry all their bacon in. And tomatoes are totally vegan! How can my bones grow white if I put red tomatoes in them, without calcium?! They don’t have any calcium, do tomatoes! But that’s no reason to be racist! And yet… I was.
And now I’m bored. No doubt so are you. Here is how to use this copy of Salient to make your lecture more entertaining:
1. Throw it at your lecturer. 2. Throw it at anyone. 3. Hit the person next to you with it. 4. Be really violent with it. 5. Use it to be racist.
Feel better? Yeah, that feels good, doesn’t it. No, it doesn’t! Wow, you are sick, man. I just tricked you into thinking violence is good, didn’t I? You dick, you think violence is good! Sure, violence is fun, and cool, and useful to solve when you need to get oil from Iraq, but—Aha! Racist! You think Iraq is okay! I’ll have you know Iraq is not not not never or ever okay! okay? So that’s what we all think, except you, dirty jew-hating Nazi racist. Some people, however, can use violence constructively, and here I am not talking about you and your obviously best mates Hitler and George Bush; no, I am talking about Van Damme and Chuck Norris.
Jackson commissioned me to write a racist column when a young lady came into the office complaining that people often thought she was Indian. Upon hearing this, I gazed at her with my stethoscope and realised the massive amount of dirty scummy racism that lay under the garments of mainstream New Zealand. This woman was definitely not Indian. She couldn’t have been! She didn’t have one of those little dots on her head! This made me want to stand up and fight the war for racism.
But in my woman’s heart, I know I lie. I hypocrite (as a verb). For as I said before, I have been, in my deep darkest past, a racist. To combat my hate for racism, which I totally hate, because, hasn’t physics shown, yea, upon a parapsychology, that two hates make a love? Of course! It must be! Students don’t want about that! They don’t know anything! And last night, there I was, running outside to paint the asparagus tree black to keep it real, when I realised they don’t grow on trees! They’re in the ground. While spraying the ground white, I wept.