the irony
Rebbecca took me to this obnoxious movie about some rich white lady who feels bad for being rich so she gives money to bums and not to her spoiled ass child. And her kid’s all mad about being neglected and ugly. The rich lady tries and to volunteer at group homes but cries when she sees the retards because she feels superior. The next scene the little mongoloid is in the bathroom checking on her to see if she’s ok, it’s supposed to be poignant. It’s not. It’s annoying. The movie ends with her buying her spoiled ass kid some 250 dollar jeans.
I hated it.
I said to Rebbecca, “Rebbecca, why would you take me to see a movie about a bunch of people I hate?”
“Because I knew you would hate it.”
She was right. She likes to get me riled up.
Nothing annoys me more than white guilt. Nothing annoys me more than some motherfuckers who feels guilty about their station in life while taking advantage of their station in life.
It’s like those rich Silver Lake fuck-boys who feel bad for the poor Mexicans whilst pricing them out of their own neighborhood. Way to go dip-shits. But they’re letting them wash dishes in the new self sustaining restaurant so that’s good, right?
I told that to Anthony, the masseuse at my fancy pants chiropractor’s office. We were talking movies while I was trying to avoid the fact that the back of his hand was touching my dick and ball sack.
I told him, “The only people who want to watch a movie about a bunch of rich white people feeling bad about being rich and white is rich white people.”
He didn’t say shit. He just kept working my inner thigh.
The same lady who did that movie, did another one about some white people adopting a fat little black girl because her mom was a crack head or had AIDS or something.
I’m sure all my born rich, liberal friends creamed their pants over that one. Can you imagine having your very own pet black person that you rescued from the ghetto?
They’re such noble creatures the blacks. We must save them. I voted for Obama. I love the Mexicans, my nanny was Mexican. I hate white trash, they have no culture the whites, and so on and so forth.
I was out at my friend’s dinner party in the hills the other week and I was talking to this writer lady. Right after she finishes telling me about her daughter graduating from Harvard, she starts talking about how much she hates white people. We’re in a party full of white people mind you. The only black person being Canadian. She’s all, white people this and white people that.
She herself is white.
I tell her, “Be proud of your whiteness, white people are the shit.”
It’s true we are. We run things.
She’s like, “But deep down inside, I’m black. I feel like a black person. I feel it in my bones.”
I’m in awe. The lady’s in her 40’s and this shit’s falling out of her mouth. You feel like your ancestors were enslaved and that you’re a product of that? And that your own government has systematically attacked you? You feel black?
Wow.
She’s probably black on the inside like she’s the type of person who puts on Miles Davis and struts around her house drinking Cabernet, black.
I keep it light. I say, “Naw, you look white as hell to me.”
She says, “No I already got two strikes against me as a double minority. I’m a woman and I’m Jewish.”
I’m like, “You’re Jewish!? You ain’t no minority. Shit that’s like being white with benefits! You’re like white plus. You’re fine.”
“But deep down I’m black.”
I take a bite out my organic, wood oven, Gorgonzola and shallot pizza. Chewed it up, swallowed and let that one sink in.
Man, I hate white people too.
