Well I met with that lawyer boy as scheduled, and even though all my friends keep telling me that I did well, I can’t help but feel that it was a complete disaster. I tried backing out at the last minute because one of Pinko’s idiot colleagues had hosted a New Age Indian dinner party in Sedona, and after eating markedly un-American food, my stomach was making questionable sounds that lasted from Wednesday well into Saturday. I actually broke a sweat trying to hold back my bodily fluids. And, in addition to standing in a perpetual cloud of gastrital farts, I was forced to avoid looking at the man during our entire debate because when I first got to my podium, some prankster had printed all my prearranged notes over this image:
The man’s physical resemblance to the Muppet “Beaker” was so sudden and profound that I was afraid if I looked at him, I’d burst out laughing and simultaneously fill my pants with half-digested Indian lentils. Cindy would have killed me because all my jockeys were dirty, and I was wearing a pair of her favorite “change of life” dainties. It was a very stressful 90 minutes.
Pinko thinks I was avoiding eye contact because of the stupid yarn he’d spun about how in today’s politics, direct eye contact with a Negroman is a sign of aggression, and as reparation, I could legally be assaulted after the debate but only with a quarter foot of “black myth.” What a liar.
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