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Dear Mr. President

Dear President Obama,

As a black person, who was born and raised in this country, seeing you elected as President of the United States brought tears to my eyes. There I was, at roughly 12am EST, on the night of November 6, 2008, crying right along with Oprah and Jessie. I have never been as proud to be an American citizen as I was at that moment. I recognize that you will be a little busy solving the economic crisis and trying to rescue our country from the brink of another Great Depression; but if you find yourself with a free moment do you think you could do me three small favors?

  1. Would you kindly pass an executive order promising that the US Census will no longer ask black people to classify themselves as Negroes? Frankly, I find it to be extremely insulting.
  2. Please apologize to the entire world for the last eight years. It would be nice if I didn’t have to be too embarrassed to travel outside the United States.
  3. Declare the day that George W. Bush leaves office a national holiday. I don’t think that I can stress enough what a monumental event that will be. Make sure you burn sage throughout the White House to get rid of all those nasty vibes.

You’ve got a lot of late nights and hard work ahead of you Mr. President. May the force be with you!!!



Dodging Depression

Last night the United States government took over Washington Mutual and sold it, piecemeal, to JP Morgan Chase, in the largest savings and loan bailout in US history. Much of the Washington Mutual’s troubles, like that of many other banks, were caused by defaults on high risk mortgages as well as a dramatic drop in the value of WAMU stocks over the past months.

Simultaneously, the Democrats and Republicans were busy reaching no agreement at the White House in their endeavours to bail out the rest of the nations financial institutions. Rumor has it that the gathering was actually reduced to a shouting match when the Republicans revolted against their own President by proposing a new plan that was contrary to his and, as a result, absolutely nothing was solved. At best, the solution will be our tax dollars going to purchase bad assets from the banks in order to prevent them from going belly up. If only Warren Buffet would bailout all of the banks and not just Goldman Sachs.

As our most prestigious financial institutions crumble around us, and consumer confidence is at an all time low, and retailers predict the slowest shopping season ever, the rest of us just bite our nails and pray that we are able to dodge the next Great Depression.

I’m Back

Well folks, after a long and arduous summer in California…I’m back! It’s amazing how different two regions of the same country can be. Your girl was so bored out in the deserts of Cali that she got her license to bear arms. Now i realize that all those gun nuts out there aren’t staunch defenders of the second amendment, so much as they are so crazed by the unending monotony of everyday life that they feel compelled to pick up a gun and shoot something.

When I stepped out of the taxi i literally kissed the streets of Harlem. I know that it sounds disgusting and I immediately wiped my mouth with an alcohol swab that I had handy, but those of you who have yet to see the hidden wonders of america just don’t understand how lucky we are to live in NYC.

Here is a brief list of things that i won’t miss about California:

Trailer trash, spiders, lizards, 110 degree days, roaches that are as big as out waterbugs, spiders, and gun toting ignorant bigots. Oh and did i mention the trailer trash and the spiders?

Adios Cali! Even though I’ll miss the Mexican food, drinks by the pool and the shooting range I’ll take crack heads, subways and bodega’s anyday.

How I Got a Parking Ticket

It was just supposed to be a simple excusion to Sal’s pizza. We figured that since we had to move the car we might as well make a munchie run to the best pizza shop in town. Lord knows it would be convenient to be able to run downstairs for a bite to eat, but since the options around here are Popeye’s, Kennedy’s and Popeye’s we decided to escape the realm of fried chicken and make a run for something more edible. Who knew that the pizza was going to cost $51.00 plus the $0.25 we put in the parking meeter before we got the ticket. 

We erroneously assumed that it should take no more than one quarter’s worth of time to buy a slice of pizza and eat it. Little did we know that the Three Stooges were ordering pizza in front of us. We sat there, waiting, while these three idiots went on a whole diatribe. The topics ranged from putting a lot of hot pepper (or red “red stuff” as Curly so elloquently put it) on the boss’ pizza so he’d get sick and send them home early; to offering manual labor for a free pie to the totally disinterested old man who works behind the counter. In a clear effort to get rid of Curly, Larry and Moe, Sal or Carmine (i still don’t know which one is which) asked Larry if his pizza was done enough. Larry responded, “I don’t know is it eat-able?”

Long story short these morons took so long ordering their pizza that by the time we got ours we had a $35.00 ticket. It occured to me that since there are still grown-ups walking the streets saying “eat-able” instead of edible that everyone who lives in this city should get there tax money back from what is clearly an ineffective public school system and that money should be put towards free parking.