This is going to be long, but I really couldn’t wait to present my Friday evening to the Teeming Millions for their input.
This is the story of Jarbabyj, the white girl who couldn’t win.
On Friday evening, a young, seemingly normal African American gentleman approached my friend Amy and I at our drinking establishment and asked if we might join him in a game of pool since he was here ‘on leave’ from the military.
“Surely,” I said. “Anything for a soldier.” I purchased a pitcher of high quality, five dollar Miller Lite and we made our way to the pool table. And then…
The descent into madness I can liken only to a David Lynch movie. I invite everyone, in a sort of “Where’s Waldo” feel, to point out the Ignorance[sup]TM[/sup] or even “BLATANT LIES” I experienced.
It’s also amusing, as you’ll see, that this man picked ME, paranoid Jarbabyj to corner.
Man: Good at pool?
Jar: Not really. I just like to be dramatic and make wild shots (laugh is not met)
Man: I’m really only good when there’s money down on the table. I played for $1600 last week with my boys.
Amy: Are you scared that you’ll get called to Afghanistan?
Man: Naw. Anything to get me out of this fucking racist country. I already fought three wars for you white people. With no thanks. I was in Desert Storm, Somalia and Croatia. I hate this country. You know we brought all this shit on ourselves with how we treat Africa. We’ve fucking destroyed Africa, and expect to keep our freedom? Fucking racist country with a fake president.
Jar: Oh. but you’re in the army?
Man: Yeah. Special forces. Underground stuff. They send me in to take out the big man, if you know what I mean.
Jar: Oh.
Man: I’m going to tell you something I shouldn’t be telling you. You know why George Bush isn’t sending any black boys over there?
Jar: I…didn’t…no.
Man: Because he knows, man. He knows every black man in America would take up arms AGAINST the U.S. I would march right over and fight with Osama. He’s a brilliant man. You put me under a white Sargeant, I’m going to blow his head off. No question.
(here’s where I’m desperately trying to signal to my friends who are having fun elsewhere in the bar.)
Man: George Bush started this war to get rid of the Black man, don’t you see this is a race war? Don’t you read your bible? Dont’ you know what you’ve done to us? You all think we’re niggers.
Jar: I don’t.
Man: Yes you do. You do, your father does and your grandfather, and someone has to pay for what your ancestors did to me.
Jar: To YOU? Or your ancestors? And what do you or I have to do with that? Don’t tell me what I think about you.
Man: I don’t have to tell you. I know. And you know. And you’re going to pay. Someone has to pay. You are your father’s son. And if your grandfather thinks I’m a nigger, so do you. You have his blood.
Jar: And how do you know my grandfather thinks that?
Man: Listen. I love white people. I do. My girl is white. Her parents love me. I even hit her in the face in front of her parents and they don’t care. They know I’m keepin’ her straight. But I know she thinks I’m a nigger deep down. That’s what it’s like to be a black man.
(Jar pounds a beer, looks for a cigarette and an escape)
Man: That’s why I would turn on this country. Scary isn’t it? Scary that I could go over and help the Taliban. And this fake government is paying me. All you white folk who voted for Bush, thinking you’d get rid of the black man. I would fight for the Taliban. They don’t need my help though. They’ve got nukes. The nukes are comin’, and it’s going to be worse than September. We knew they were going to blow up WTC. Bush knew. But he knew there were black men in that building. He knew how much money he could make from letting that place blow up. I shouldn’t be telling you this of course.
Jar: Right.
Man: And the smallpox. Hey, you know what? maybe I’ve got small pox. And just you and me talking, I’m GIVING you smallpox. Think about it. It takes 1.9 seconds to get it. This whole bar could have it.
(another beer for me, as well as a quick Hail Mary)
Jar: Let’s talk about something else.
(and now…he’s yelling. On his feet yelling. The bartender is keeping an eye on us closely.)
Man: You scared? Be scared. Then you’ll know what it’s like to be black in this country. Scared every day. This is the end of America, girl. The Black man is coming. You don’t know what it’s like to be a black man. Every day I wake up it’s 50/50 that some cop will blow my head off. I may not make it home tonight if a cop don’t like the shirt I’m wearing. Never hear about cops shooting white folks do you? No, didn’t think so. Every fucking day I got to worry about that.
Jar: Wow.
(I’m dumbfounded, drunk and scared at this point, but my friends are blissful in another corner of the bar. HELP! Luckily, a guy friend of mine comes over and makes some sex joke to me…breaking the tension…but not the madness)
Man: Yeah. I’m packin’ ten inches if you want to see it.
Jar: Ten. Ten inch cock. No way.
Man: You want to see it?
Jar: Not at all.
Man: Yeah, you a Bears fan?
Jar: Yes! (Finally, back to normal!)
Man: Yeah. I was hangin’ with my boys last week. I hang with the Bears. We was smokin’ some FAT BLUNTS.
jar: You and the Bears? Which Bears? Brian?
Man: Urlacher?
Jar: Yes. I’m in love with him.
Man: He’d fuck you. I know his type. I could call him if you want. He has some fine motherfuckin’ dope we could do and then you could fuck him.
(pause, and I decide to call his bluff)
Jar: Ok.
Man: What?
Jar: Call him. Tell him to bring his weed, we’ll get high and I’ll fuck him.
Man: You lie. You wouldn’t do that. YOu’re married.
Jar: I’m a swinger. Call him.
Man: Naw. Another time.
Jar: Gotcha.
Man: Hey…why you walking away from me?
I left out the part where he told me he’s a private screener for upcoming films…he knows De La Soul, he hangs out with the Beastie Boys and also knows Public Enemy.
So. I may have smallpox, I may have an IN with Brian Urlacher, and I’m fully prepared for the approaching Race War and “the End of America”
How about you?
jar
