Whitey Rears His Ugly Head
Let me paint you a picture. Imagine a middle school cafeteria in an exurban/rural school district. Imagine that it is filled with all sort of people -- some obviously coming in from their farms, others from the dusty highway atop their Harleys (complete with chaps), still others strapped with cell phones and arriving from their city offices -- and that many of them are clapping along to a song being sung by a choir of middle school students. Now imagine that the song being sung is a heinous choral jazz rendition of "C Jam Blues" by Duke Ellington which features such lyrical gems as "he fills your cup with dreams" and "trumpets get their kicks in Duke's place." Add that the clapping is happening mostly in the rhythmic limbo between beats 1 and 2 and then again between 3 and 4, as though some people knew when to clap, others did not, and most of them had no idea where the beat was anyway. And to top it all off, imagine a fourteen year old girl in an all-orange jumper (and braided pigtails... we can't forget the braided pigtails) scatting over all of this.
Whitey was out in force at Farmington Middle School West last night.
Luckily for me, as usual, I was able to stay black and proud while stuck in a sea of haystack crackers. But it was crazy. It would have angered/tickled pink G-Money, had he been there to experience it. I was forced to imagine how, some day, a jazz band of my very own will play "Battle Without Honor or Humanity" by Tomayasu Hotei and kick its ass all over the stage while Whitey exults in the audience and offers me sizeables cash bonuses for my stunning service to the community. Where could something like that happen? Where else?
Whitey was out in force at Farmington Middle School West last night.
Luckily for me, as usual, I was able to stay black and proud while stuck in a sea of haystack crackers. But it was crazy. It would have angered/tickled pink G-Money, had he been there to experience it. I was forced to imagine how, some day, a jazz band of my very own will play "Battle Without Honor or Humanity" by Tomayasu Hotei and kick its ass all over the stage while Whitey exults in the audience and offers me sizeables cash bonuses for my stunning service to the community. Where could something like that happen? Where else?
posted by Buckwalter at 6:31 AM
3 Comments:
Soul Funk Brother, I feel your pain. I really, really do. I've been there, and it's painful. To combat this evil contemplate a bassoon quartet, exuberantly playing Abba's "Dancing Queen" when suddenly, the Nation of Islam rises up, and with Muhammed Istafar at their head, 100,000 black men crush the putrid plaid pillow-pooping purveyors of white music in a graceful yet eye-piercingly horrible orgy of destruction and death. This is, I think, a true vision of what Shiva will give us, since he is neither shy, not unwilling, much like your friend and mine, the Anpir (pronounced AINE-peer, a cross between the tapir and the giant anteater, with all of the advantages, and none of the drawbacks).
It did indeed happen, and last night too. And I'm perfectly serious about the crowd... people-watching in Farmington is like watching some police video on stereotypes. When I say bikers, I'm talking braided-beard, chaps-wearing, tattooed bikers. And the scary thing is they're parents.
There are many reasons as to why it is important to leave a place like this...this is just one of the many. Also, when one of those parents approaches you to wonder aloud why their child wasn't picked for an award this afternoon -- that's another good reason. Hm. Many things to ponder. Can I ponder them aloud with you while you are obviously trying to flee the scene with your spouse -- could we enter into a dialogue about that?
Ha. Ha. Those are my two last laughs as I travel to the land of wind and ghosts and flamingos with my dear Jonny Mysterio.
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