Interview with a racist



Me: Hey, did you see that black girl over there? Baby got back and then some.

Unnamed friend: That girl isn't black. She is just really tan.

Me: No, I am pretty sure she is black, probably bi-racial.

Unnamed friend: Bi-racial? Oh, you mean she is black with an asterisk.

Me: You are my hero.

Unnamed friend: Bemused expression I probably shouldn't have said that.

Me: I will give you a dollar if you say that to her face.

Unnamed friend: No, that is alright.

Me: Silent, hidden racism isn't funny. Oh, I long for the Jim Crow days of yore. I can't get enough of the "you have to be this pink to eat here" signs that littered the South only scant decades ago.

Author's Clarification

The following didn't happen, exactly. It is a fictional recreation of a conversation with a friend, who is too much of a pussy to own his words, and his creation and subsequent use of the term "black with an asterisk."

Let me perfectly clear here, I am not a racist; I just happened to befriend several dozen of them over the years. I love all peoples: the blacks, the Jews, the Canadians, even the French. Well, I do hate the Mexicans, but doesn't everybody? Ok, I am kidding. I don't like the Jews either.


Go to Hell