It just occurred to me, four days after the fact, that Monday was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. I wasn't aware of this on Monday because I had to work. Why did I have to work? Mainly because I work for a company run by people who believe that whites are the supreme race (meaning that all whites should have sour cream and tomatoes on them). Actually, I don't know if that's true--it might just be that they didn't want to risk losing a day's worth of revenue, in which case they're greedy Jews instead of White Supremacists. The fact that we didn't celebrate MLK Day by staying at home, sitting around and being lazy (which is apparently the most appropriate way to celebrate) has made me upset. Mainly because I'm lazy. Oh, and because I firmly believe in the dream of Martin Luther King, Jr.--that one day all the colored children will be able to ring doorbells and run away without fear of persecution. Oh, and that Big Red will flow freely in the rivers of the world.
I only became aware of MLK Day because of something peculiar I saw today as I drove from Taco Bueno (a total misnomer--more like Taco Mediocre, but still better than the Bell) back to my office. As I slowed to stop at a red light, I became aware of a metallic green 1980 Chevrolet Caprice in front of me. Now while this car in any condition would draw my disdain, there was something more sinister grabbing my attention--the back window. Well, not the back window per se, but rather what was inscribed upon it in orange shoe polish: "MLK was a goddamn womanizing wife-beating drunk. Honer (sic) him?". I mean come on, where does one get orange shoe polish? You don't see people wearing orange shoes very often, do you? I suppose the inscription also offended me, but who doesn't get drunk on occasion, especially when Fab Five Freddy and Lando Calrissian show up with Colt 45? And who's to say that Coretta Scott King didn't occasionally deserved to be slapped around?
I looked over this idiot's car, trying to find bullet holes showing where some "hard, pipe-hittin' niggers" had taken a few shots at him with their gats, but the metalwork was flawless. Then I remembered--I'm in the whitest town in the world--Southlake. The darkest people get around her is tan, and that's only because Mexicans (soon to be granted amnesty, thanks to our President), journey dozens of miles from South Dallas for the honor of mowing the local's lawns and fixing their sprinklers. I wonder, I thought to myself, what would happen if this guy were to take a drive in south Oak Cliff or Pleasant Grove? No doubt he'd never be seen again, which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing.
Which reminds me of a journey I recently took to Pleasant Grove, where I found a street that was named Dilido Road. How close can you come to "dildo" without actually calling the street "Dildo Road"? Here's the map from Yahoo! showing the location of the street:
Notice that nearby are also Fringewood Dr., which seems suspiciously like "Fingerwood Dr.", as well as Ripplewood Dr., which is awfully close to "Nipplewood Dr.". Weird perverted stuff going on down there. And I think that'd make MLK smile.