Eat the Press - Do Not Read It! Unmasked
CAUTION: This TOME is not, yet, rated! Viewer discretion is advised!
Violence, Vulgarity, Left Wing Sentiments, Sexual Situations are all included, at NO EXTRA COST! (Read at your own peril).
Beware: Right Wing Nut Jobs will attack you with merciless, inarticulate comments that will have you scratching your head and asking yourself: "How did these Marrons get out of the fifth grade and into my head?"
"Chances Are" (My Favorite Song by Johnny Mathis, another "gay" man) these, "ready to rumble", moonshine sucking Hill Folks, did not get out of the fifth (5th) grade, until they reach sixteen years old, the legal age to quit school, and, too, marry their first cousin (Clydesdale) or, siblings, as is, and, has been, the custom in the old Confederacy, now, known as THE RED STATES!
After all these years, and, on direct orders from the court, it is time, I BELIEVE, that I step forward, out of the shadows of the "alley dumpsters", into the light of "Trump Urinal Piss-Pot Politics" , and, share my "Twisted Sisters' View" of the political sex-scene in 'Merica.
I pledge, to the GOD OF CHAOS, that in this drunken state, I shall unmask myself to my legion of fans, known to law enforcement as, the " Unwashed Masses of Liberal Asses."
Those other chumps, the "the Deplorables", that tends to "curse my name" to the God of Grammar (a fraudulent deity that has tormented me all of "me" MISERABLE LIFE) I further vow, "the tyrants shall not prevail, because we have e-mail!" (Write that down).
We must Resist, Brothers & Sistas, of the Corn Hole Degeneration , you know who I am talkin' to; those "damnable Left-Leaning Liberals Too Lazy To Get a Job", and, those "Right-Wing, Gun-Totting Knuckleheads That Can't Get One Either Because They Are Just Too Damn Poorly Educated, Beaver Pelts."
We, their "betters," must boot "these hardenTrumpers" out of all public latrines, and, send their "sorry arses" back to grammar school.
On the other hand, ("the left one") we recommend that the "gov-mint" dump "trillions" of other people's money, aka, "FEDERAL DOLLARS" into rehabbing EXCLUSIVELY the "sad-sacks liberals, Commies, Marxists, Socialists, Lefties." After all, they vote DEMOCRAT!
Dummies, like, "W", Pence, and Trump have been in charge, too, damn long.
It is time for us, the "slightly less dumb," to regain our rightful place as heads of all public "mistakes," and, start giving "Free Sh*t Away, Again" to our fellow Left-Leaning Liberals smoking pot and too "stoned" to work at a regular job.
Amen, Brother Ben! (Ben Carson, that is).
Why run from it, folks?
It is what the "All-knowing, Right-Wing, Always-Right, Uptight-Upright Conservative Christian Re-Puritans" claim that is what Dems, Liberals, and Humanitarians do: "Give Free Sh*t Away!"
We are, according to God's Chosen Folks , "nothin', but "Welfare Cheats, Commies, Socialists, Marxists - Fascists", because we want everyone who is eligible to vote . . . VOTE.
That is the "free shat " we are giving away.
How radical is that?
We are, also, proponents of the Bill of Rights and, unlike the "others" clan, the "gun tottering" ones, who cannot read the Constitution. They just memorize their favorite part of the Second Amendment dealing with their right to own guns. Interrupting it to mean as "many as we damn well, please to keep the gov'mint in check". I am so relieved that their H.S. dropouts have found their "calling in life", and, it ain't "Hog Callin'!"
Those bib overhauls are so "tacky", Honey!
Forgive me for indulging myself, but, I started this "confessional" by acknowledging that I am not, nor, have I ever been "queer"! Full of "cheer", but, not queer. Odd, yes, by God, but, not queer full of fear.
I get that question every single day from Maroons wearing those silly red MAGA caps, lugging around their loaded military-style weapons, as they shop at WalMart, of course, Horse. Fearful, I assume, that a "fat white-woman, with a fist-full of coupons, might slow the check outline down during "check-out".
RePuritans, always say, "No", to gourmet establishments. They are too "gay", as one Gun Nut explained to me. Although, I did not ask. Another burr hair cut member of "Killers For Khrist", butted in with, "Real Americans with Real, Red-Faces and Real Red-Necks aren't sissified Northerners!"
"Is you one," asked a third, tapping the barrel of his rifle on my chartreuse-colored T-Shirt covering my chest.
Who the FU*K are these arse-wipes?
More importantly, who is responsible for taking the SEWER LIDS off, anywho, you who? That is the one that is at fault!
Why do Evangelicals and Gun-Totting Conservative Republicans, with marginal intelligence, always think that it is appropriate to ask total strangers when they first meet them a very personal question: "Are you GAY?"
"No, I am queer! And you, are you still bangin' your momma, Oedipus?"
"What? Who is Ed-de-pus?," they always ask, reaching for their AR 15, staring belligerently at me with those menacing eyes of the typical Evangelical Preacher, caught molesting a big-busted female choir member. (Man or woman, as long as they are "Big-Busted", they grab them by the "pussy", like their idol, "the Donald" does. But, they never, ever sexually harass them).
Is that in the Bible, somewhere?
In college, I was very, very, close, perhaps, too, close to my Freshman roommate. My "roomie" was a big, white, "nerdy looking", unnaturally awkward young man, and the object of my envy.
His Honest to Hades name is "Winthrop Merideth, The III."
Wow, now that is a rich-sounding name for an aristocrat. I was struck with that handle. One knew from the name that that "White, Obnoxious, Son-of-A-Bi-Ouch-ie Snob" was RICH, load to the "gills", which he actually had on either side of his neck.
"Imagine that", I thought, "a freakin' rich, white kid at a BLACK UNIVERSITY, in Wilberforce, Ohio.
This out of place, be-spectacle Freshman stuck out from across the campus, as did his silk, expensive-looking scarf that he wore everywhere, even to the gym.
Man, was I smitten!
Later in life, I took his name, out of vengeance and made him publisher of Eat The Press - Do Not Read It (The Content Is Worthless! The value is in the nutrients in the pulp in the paper when one eats it. So, Eat It, Michael! Don't Beat It. That is so passe ).
On the advice of my attorneys, Swinlers, Inc., altered the spelling slightly, to prevent the inevitable lawsuits for slander, which is my trade.
I took his name out of revenge. Wintrope hurt me, so, so many decades ago, oh, so, deeply, that I could not get him out of my mind, or my arse!
He was the stubborn, impacted, you know what, that refuses to leave your body, making you nauseous and queasy until it does.
And, believe me, after, all these years, I wanted nothing than that rich kid from Pennsylvania out of me arse. It gave me headaches to be so abused.
But, "Winnie" would not go. Not even with an exorcism.
Have you ever had anyone haunt you like that?
In the "Spirit of Transparency", let me explain, that like Trump, I am a complete fraud, though, slightly less flush with other peoples' CASH than that POS in the WH is alleged to be.
I am a self-admitted card trick! Dealt from the bottom of the deck. Do Not Shuffle!
And, this is my autobiography, on sale in most Gay Baths, in Greenwich Village, where I used to work as a paid Hand Towel. Though, I am not "gay", so it will not rub off on you, unless, of course, you are a "Twisted Sister".
Oh, contra, I am a "Girly Man", and damn proud of it, too. I like the Opera, Ballet, the Theater, Classical Music, History, Art and Pussy.
Not to big on baseball, football, basketball after the 8th grade, when I had my balls crushed by a realization that I was a short, nearly incompetent athlete who would never play in the Major League. Damn it, I would have to get a job.
So, you see, don't you, that you have nothing to worry about reading this sad tale of a man who wanted to be "happy", but, was, like Edgar Allen Poe, profoundly "depressed" in a dress.
WARNING: Big boy words are thrown around "CHERE"!
If you are offended by words, but, not deeds, you may want to "fast forward" to the very popular page, "I Love Hypocrisy In My Morning Right-Wing, Conservative Nuts Cereal" page for Maroons! Those tomes are profusely sprinkled about The NewStalker.com, there is no need of you here if you are scared of queers, my dear.
Just look for the sounds of WHINING! That is where one will find "the real queer folks", re-puritans.
Let me be perfectly clear about this, I do not HATE Trump! I just don't think CROOKS should be President.
Call me "old fashioned", even "queer", if you must, but, I think it is a bad idea to elevate "Con Artists, Thieves, Deadbeats", even me, to the Highest Office in the land.
This ain't the "Land of Lakes", Honey! This is 'Merica! We don't cotton to " dat corruption shat"! No, siree, bob-ba-lu-ba, corruption stinks! Laugh at dat, MF-er!
Whatever happened to the concept of "vetting" candidates running for public office versus embracing those candidate running toward a public toilet at most Metropolitan Air Ports? "Shuck, Drag da foot and slide!"
End of Disclosure! Please, put your weapons away! And, take off those stupid RED CAPS when reading this tome. We all know you are going bald!
Well, then, Ladies (Lindsey Graham-ers) back to the "juicy", personal stuff.
I yam, I must confess, the one and only (thank God for that), "less than prestigious", Jonathan Livingston Pigeon-Poo, CEO & Flounder, of the Bird Droppings Institute, A Think Tank For Morons, No Idiots, Please!
We are located in the nearly all-torn down community of Mildew, Ohio, where there are no jobs, not even "Blow Jobs".
Mildew, like so many new rural American communities, is a GATED COMMUNITY. We don't know who built it or why, but, we like it like that. Come visit us, we are just a short leap from REALITY.
If you are driving we are the second exit from the one that reads, "Twilight Zone". Just make that VIOLENT, RIGHT-HAND TURN from anywhere in 'Merica and you'll be instantly there.
Don't let the gun turrets, the barb-wire fence or the mind field put you off, it is mostly for show. Just stay on the well-worn path and you'll be fine.
You see, folks, with the wisdom I have gained over the three-quarters of a century that I have transversed this world. I have picked up bad habits. I don't suffer fools well.
If someone thinks that a serial rapist, sexual predator, pathological liar, and CAREER THIEF is a good person to occupy the Whitehouse, by all means, SKIP this page.
As I see it, when "the below average, Angry Americans", who are, often, too stupid, too fat, or, too, naive to figure out who is "taking advantage of them", then, we are going to have trouble "Co-MUN-KNEE-ATE-ING!"
So why bother with getting your panties in a knot? There are a lot of "empty-headed, Trump Bots" seeded by the Russian Intelligence Agency thorough out social media to peruse, amuse and abuse you.
Trump in my view, and, in the view of 63,000,000 voters believe him to be "insane, a contemptuous human being and a "Clear and Present Danger"!
Howsomever, if you are not wholesome, a left-leaning liberal who loves creativity, the arts, the environment, humanity you may want to take a "roll in the hay" with us, Gus! Or, not!
CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED!
It is never the "Dems"; it is always the Calcified Conservative Republicans to hung up on racism, and, too, intolerant of others, the "BASTARDS-In-Cheap Shit Rhetoric" that are the "bad guys". Not us "good guy", forward-thinking Liberals, that are to blame for every damn thing wrong with 'Merica
For example in 1980, in an era of complete insanity, America fell madly in LOVE with a "B" rated movie actor, Ronnie Reagan. That is when everything started to "trickle-down" from there like Elephant piss!
Like Trump, who was a REALITY TV STAR before becoming POTUS, the Americans, back then, in the '80s, grew up on television, so, naturally, everyone loved Reagan, thought "Ronnie" had all the answers, had a "great smile, and was something he was not: HUMAN!
"Ronnie", as his wife, Cruella De Ville, like to call him, was a well known half-azz MOVIE STAR, with a nice voice, neat hair cut, and good teeth. The qualities that American voters look for in their president.
Reagan's appeal is similar to the current POS in the Whitehouse, Trump. Folks like his hair, his tan, and, above all else, 'the Donald" nice blue suits, freshly starched white shirt, and, those, extremely long red ties to camouflage his obese waist. At times, his red ties are so long that they drag behind him like a Devil's tail.
Educated people, who should have known better, bought Reagan's economic, "Trickle Down" malarky on face value. Reagan's face. It was nothing more than a "top-down scam", just like Trump's " Tax Cuts For The Rich" scheme.
The Republicans' Economic Theory amount to: "Rich People Need More Money"! It is quite forward and simple.
This classic Republican policy is based on the faulty belief that if our "betters", the super-rich, are allowed to keep more of their questionably acquired "cash", instead of paying taxes, like the "Little People" must, then, they, the Uber Rich Son of A Bitches," are so kind, so thoughtful, so generous due to their tender-hearted nature will ensures that all benefits from the "trickle-down" concept. Including, the peasants. ( Dat be you and me.)
It took years before the gullible American taxpayers realized that they had been "had".
However, 32% of Registered Republican, Right Wing Voters do not agree. They "LOVE" being "had", over and over, again, and, again.
"It feels good to get fuck", one 5th generation Re-Puritan explained the theory to me, as I banged his wife.
It is not "RONNIE" fault solely, other Re-Pukes had fu*ked it up, too: Herbert Hoover, Dick Nixon, Dick Cheney, and, of course, "W", contributed to our demise into a "SHITHOLE COUNTRY" with a "piece of shit" in the Whitehouse.
What the freakin' frack did you think would happen?
It was that great intellect, "W", America's First Retarded President, who opened the door, whereupon, Trump, The CON MAN, burst thru bellowing, snorting and exclaiming that he, "alone knows all things known"
Right, this entitled RICH, "SPOILED BRAT", who inherited $147,000,000 from his daddy, Frederich who, legend has it, made his "loot" laundering money for mobsters) is now our COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF.
Trump's mouth, and, that alone, is responsible for cracking the Republicans ever rotting egg.
At one time, the Republican Party was respected, had statesmen leading it. Not anymore.
Now it is a Lunatic Asylum with the worse collection of human waste imaginable, passing themselves as Congressional leaders!
Trump's never-ending bull-chip, contempt for the press, and, his inability to keep his hands out of the public coffers is slowly awakening rural Americans to the dirty innards of the Republicans "Horse Manure Farm".
The impact of "wrong-headed" Republican policies damn near wiped my small, pastoral community, Mildew, Ohio.
It is there, where I lay claim to me fame as the publisher of Eat The Press Do Not Wipe Your Butt With It.
Republicans self-serving policies nearly destroyed this once quaint prosperous, little community by the filthy, polluted Yellow Springs, that flows from our neighboring community's Military-Industrial, "Guns Don't Kill -People Do" munitions factories.
When the heartless Re-Puritans were elected nationwide, primarily by the questionable demographic, known as the "deplorables", they did so with the aid of the Russian government, Putin, the Koch Roach Brothers, Deranged Evangelical, and Corporate Thieves.
That is when our community went to Hell-In-A-Hand Bag .
What difference does it make if it is a "DESIGNER'S HANDBAG". It is still a handbag, probably a "KNOCK-OFF" made in China, and sold on the streets of America by "illegals", taking good-paying jobs from our recently released felons.
It seems, to this "slightly disturbed, humbled by the years' observer," that Republican policy is designed to screw the "little people", without their consent, by allowing our big, rich "betters to strangle us into starving paupers, making it easier to make us their slaves.
I ask you, fellow News Talkers.com, "what diabolical genius decided that the best thing to do to stimulate the sagging American economy was to ship 50,000 factories overseas to Communist China and Third World countries to keep the cost of goods low".
In my admittedly limited mind, I struggle with the issue that if the average American worker cannot get a good-paying job, then, we cannot buy the things we do not need. That ain't stimulating anything but "P O V E R T Y".
What say you, NewsStalkers?
For decades Republicans have denied the perils of Global Warming, replacing it with "Global Marketing". Which has become the "buzz word" for every Republican in 'Merica.
"No Global Warming!" It's now," Global Marketing, Baby!", they love to scream at the NRA meetings, in between their chants: "LOCK HER UP!"
Well, arse wipes, in Mildew, OH-HIGH-O, we endured the destructive force of a Category 10 economic tornado when this wave of self-righteous Republicans appeared on our doorsteps, unannounced!
Now, Republican leaders love Communist China? Of all the countries in the world, they want to send our jobs, over 5,000,000 jobs to CHINA. who would have thought it?
I thought Conservatives hated communists more than anything, except liberals. Apparently, they love MONEY more than they do their country.
Well, Brothers & Sistas of the Corn Hole De-Generation, it practically killed our community off. This once semi-prosperous, little community, by the county dump, went belly up overnight and turned into a "Swamp"!
Everyone in our town, including the mayor, the candlestick maker, even, our pedophile priest were affected; laid off, unemployed, bankrupted! Just like that.
Once upon a time, in a far off land was a thriving, prosperous community of "nitwits", isolated from the rest of the world by ostracism.
We didn't care, because anyone that could work, worked at our "CORK SACKING" factory. Or, in the complimentary "start-up" business making "KNEE PADS". You see, when everyone in your community is working as a "cork-sackers", you are gonna need a lot of knee pads."
Well, that's my story and I am sticking to it. So, "Yes", I, too, am a "Former Cork-Sacker" and, proud of it!
* * * *CONFESSIONAL OF A LIFE LONG CORK SACKER * * * *
Well, folks, you may have caught me, at a bad time, with me pants down, a frequent condition suffered by old folks with enlarged bladders the size of a watermelon, jammed up where "the Sun Don't Shine" , thanks to our Christian, angry Republican Trumpers!
Yep, I am "outed", yup, jes like Miss Lindsey Graham, and, that ain't the first time, neither, Miss Pence.
NOTE: This may be as good of a time, as any, for some of you that need to hurl to take your leave. Me, too. Be back in five. Talking about Trump does that to me - makes me want to VOMIT!
* * *
Chapter II: "Who The Hell Gives a Crap?"
I never took this old man's advice. What did he know?
Now, where was I, that is to say, none the least, in this "Spirit of Transparency Age & Overused Phrases", I admit that "the Very, Very Reverend Oral Fleece, "Straight From the Street and Not From the Police", pastor of the Church of T he How Big Is Your Wallet - How Small Is Your Brain", is, like all Evangelical Televangelists, just another "religious scam", that I concocted.
Like Trump's Trump University scheme, I, too, needed to raise money from "rubes" to pay for my Mercedes payments, which are in arrears. As, apparently, is my own rear!
I have been known to drag it behind, honey, filled with my sack of quarters.
They are not legally mine, like that POS in the Whitehouse, it's all ensconced from "other's people's cash."
A trick I learned from perusing "the Donald's" book of "The Art of the Steal".
I am guilty of using these pen names and a dozen other "non-de plums", that I employ to disabuse "me" creditors, which are many.
I, like Trump, am a congenital "deadbeat", and, like "the Donald", proud of it. To many of us hide in the shadows begging for crumbs from strangers.
Not, Trump nor I! We go boldly into the "Unkown" where DECENT FOLKS fear to fly! On the "criminal side"!
Believe me, if anyone understands Trump, it is I.
Not me Left eye; me Right One Sees All. His Warts, His Whores, His Schemes & Scams, His Foibles. They are so apparent it awes me that anyone with an I. Q. above minus 50 would not see them.
Truth be known, I am the lowly, lonely, looney, lovely, green-eyed John K. Roberts, aka ("Little Johnnie Jump Up") my stage personae, that I employ when I perform at backwatered establishment like Taffy Coffee Shop & Gay Biker Bar, in Eaton, Ohio, that have "Very Low Standards. If you have a heartbeat, you are Welcome to the Stage!"
It is a unique establishment, nestled in a quaint historic setting, where one is free to contract a venereal disease just my sitting in a booth.
It was here, in this quaint, queer-adverse, God Fearing, mostly right-wing Conservative community that I re-learned me "craft'.
T he Art of Th e Dodge, or, how to avoid a gaggle of irate "Red Neck Trump Supporters" screaming invectives while dexterously swinging hand-hewn pickaxes, weighed-down in the pursuit by their heavy military gear which appears to be permanently attached to their every appendage.
In a quieter, more reflective moment, these step-down geranium heads, should be "snapped" to allow the other flowers to bloom. But, in "Hill Billy Heaven" only the "briars" flourish. The poets are stomped on the vines by clog hopper wearing "Hill Folks" from KY (McConnell's Territory) with a "Religious Zeal" killings "Queers".
At 77 years, six months, and six days, I am too close to my "Expiration Date" to not to know when to run, even though I am not "gay", I am, according to the Local Christian Yokels, "Queer".
"We ain't seen you at the Bible readin's . Are you queer?"
"No, sure, just odd. I like to read, write, garden, meditate".
"Sounds queer to me. Yous better git outta town 'for we hang ya!"
"OK, then, bye-bye, now, I am leavin on the next plane, ain't comin' back again".
Who needs to go to a Gym, pay for a workout? When one can run for one's life from MidWestern, God-Fearing' "Trump Nuts" free.
END OF SECTION ONE
It may come as a surprise to my longstanding, largely incarcerated fans, that I purloined the name, "Winthrop Merideth, The III", from a college mate, that did me wrong!
Winthrop, like me, was a fellow white student (aka "a grey, who, like was isolated at the predominately Negro college, Central State, located in the little college community of Wilberforce, Ohio, back in the day, 1960, the Era of the Civil Rights Movement.
In my College "Hey Days" (60-63) I was lucky enough to be one of six white freshmen living on-campus in the former Penn Hall freshman dormitory. There were approximately 2300 students, of which, 99.9% were Afro-Americans, so, we, the "greys" stood out like "glow sticks".
Our fellow, non-white classmates referred to us as the "Greys", because, they claimed, we looked colorless, when seeing one's reflection in a plate glass window after being thrown headfirst into it by a militant, non-violence Civil Rights Worker, tired of the slow pace of the peaceful protest movement.
I thought it was just part of the Freshman Orientation and laughed it off.
What surprised me the most was that I discovered that "Negroes", like White racists, had their own caste system, where they ranked each other, not "on the content of their character", but, rather on the color of their skin.
The highest ranks were awarded to the "Near Whites", blended folks, who were predominately whites, but, as was the custom of that time, relegated to live within the Negroe community, or, attempt to "pass as White", at their own peril as I did.
You see, what most people do not know about me is that I am "blended". I am bi-racial, bi-pedal, bi-partisan and bi-polar.
If you don't believe me, I can prove it. Brothers have "rope"; right now my "Jonson" is down the street, around the corner making a "booty call" on a payphone. Some of you should be getting a text message about now.
Racism is not about the color of your skin, it is about the size of your Johnson. Ask Clarence Thomas, he gave himself the handle of "Long Dong Silver".
Viagra has helped some, but, White People still have a long way to go. "Penis Envy" is Universal, just ask Donald J. Trump. He has suffered from that symptom all of his "miserable life".
Now, back to the meat of this tome:
The Classifications of Negroes into degrees of desirability by Negroes. First, there were the very attractive, "High Yellows" (poly blended beauties, who were not averse to letting you know it. Followed by the "Reds", who professed to have more Indian blood than African. Of course, the most common category, the "Mahagony", e.g. Michelle Obama, who was very conscious that they were quite a few steps above, the bottom run, the "Black as Coal", Black folks.
This was before the "Black Is Beautiful" movement, which upended this chart, and, replaced the pejorative term "Negro" with "Black". Black Pride. It is, and, was a good thing that rapidly changed the social dynamics in 'Merica.
We also had a few Africans, Indians, Albinoes, and one of two Orientals for photo ops.
Winthrop was a "Glow Stick", too, a "gray", as we were affectionately known to our new friends, who were as eager to know about us, as we were about them.
"You mean, you guys stand up to piss, too."
Or, from our more naive fellow white comrades in cultural contrast, these indelicate slip of the tongue: "Where do you all put the bone in your nose when you sleep?"
Most of rural White America's perception of "Black" was solidly formed from Tarzan movies.
Reluctantly, Winthrop, my new best White Friend, was a bit aloof, one might say smug, and, somewhat of a geek. Normally, I would have avoided him like the plague, but, thrown together in this sea of blackness, we cuddled as friends. We were both white, and, spoke the same language, English.
At that time, September 1960, we, as well as, most of White America were ignorant of "Ebonics", knew little about the African-American culture, less about World History and had only seen a few Negroes in our lifetime or by watching the very popular AMOS & ANDY TV series.
Winthrop was a "doofus", with thick glasses from Allen Town, Pennsylvania, and I was a "doofus" from Dayton, Ohio. At first, like "Faires in a Fairy Land", we hid in dormitory rooms, trying to blend in with the white sheet on the bed, unnoticed.
Often, in those first days of paranoia, we worked at adjusting to our new environs. Leaning the new phrases of greetings, "What's up, White Mother Fuc*ers", "Up High-Down Low", "Catch you on the down-low", and, the very popular, F*ck Off, Honkey, or die, Bitch!" (Which I took as a universal/reciprocal greeting).
We, the quivering, "Six Greys" spent a good bit of our "Nervous Neilley" trying to wipe the white off, and spraying on an entire can of Spray-On Tan as Trump does, a concealer protect that works. That is what folks do when they are in the minority. They assimilate, or, get the sh*t beat out of them.
We, also, spent a good deal of time wondering "What the Hell are we doing at an all-Negro College? Previously, I had been studying for the electric chair, and, my fellow "Whites" had various ambition working in the numerous manufacturing facilities in the Dayton/Montgomery country area, where gray work uniforms were the predominant look of the day. And, a scowl on one's face was mandatory.
But, secretly, we afraid that at any minute the natives might revolt, burst into our room, carry us off to the central plaza where we would be hurled into a vat of boiling water and eaten by wild savage in Ivy League clothes.
We, the inner city representatives of the "All White, American Working Class, Known As. The Paranoid Gerbils" grew up on a "boatload" of Tarzan & Jane movies in the '50s and '60s.
So quite naturally, our cultural orientation made us scared to death of blacks, especially, blacks that could dance well.
Tarzan, and, the half-naked Jane, were never far removed from our young hormone erupting minds. Neither was the topless, jiggling, Negroe women, dancing provocatively, prior to the feast. The intense music, the raw savagery, the sweating sexy scene were enough for me to voluntarily leap into the pot, just for the opportunity to see so many tits.
That is what scared me the most! The urge to leap into the pot. Instinctively, I sensed that there was a part of me that was not under my control, and, it scared the "bejesus" out of me. Some times I would nearly wet my pants. At least that is what I thought happened.
The storyline was predictable; a white, mousey guy, decked out in a freshly pressed, Tommy Hilfiger's "White Safari Explorer's Outfit", tied to a tree next to a large, black, pot bubbling over a roaring pit fire.
Per usual, this terrifying scene was made more threatening by a group of "wild-eyed savage, beating on drums, in grass skirts, complete with bones in their noses, dancing in remarkable choreographed routines, like a group of well-trained Rockets.
The camera close-ups shots revealed that they, indeed, were not "The Rockefeller Rockets on Tour in Africa", but, mortifyingly ferocious starving savages, "gingering up" their appetites in anticipation of the great "White Cook-Out Feast".
I never failed to notice that there were never any orientals, Jews, Chinese, or, Africans roasted, or, boiled ALIVE. It was always, only White guys with thick glasses wearing those stupid round sun hats for shade.
Who needs shade in a vat of boiling hot water?
Scared the bejesus out of me!
Gradually, we realized that our students were good kids from the middle to upper-class families that were not interested in eating us, except for the gay ones.
Rapidly, we became acclimatized to this beautiful, rustic college; it's soothing East Coast Ivy League quality, complete with a lovely, grassy knoll plaza, where local KKK members practiced their assassination skills with wood sticks, moonshine and a mouthful of tobacco juice.
CSC, at that time, was opening its campus to the surrounding community of "backwood Hill Folks" who, formerly had terrorized the college with their "Torch Burning, Night Rides" thorough the campus, on their monthly inspection tours to "make damn sure that no White woman was deflowered by a Black man on their watch", which always surprised me because not one of them could tell time.
lined with flowers that we eagerly, merrily transverse daily to a fro en route to our college classes.
Winthrop was a great storyteller, not a "good looking guy, like me, but, a shock to the eye. As you can see from his graduation picture to the left.
"Winny", as we called him/her is a great storyteller. He would regale us, late into the night, when he returned to campus, still "tipsy" from his glorious, enviable weekend exploits.
His lively, exciting stories of sexual conquests, drunken parties, and smoking "pot" keep us up all night, in more ways than one. We, too, were horny your men, with tiny, engorged horns that dripped with anticipation that "one day" we would be known not by the "color of our skin", but, by the size of our growing Jonsons.
Winthrop was the first "rich person" I had ever met, and I was proud to have a rich friend. I had sold my Green, 1949 Chevy Coupe to a fellow white student who commuted from Fairborn, Ohio for $150. I needed the money for books, supplies and to pay my "campus drug dealer", the Dean of Theater, Drama and the Art of Same-Sex Seduction, which was a mandatory requirement for Whites.
TO BE CONTINUED, whether you want me to, or, not!