kalends june 2003 c.e. o< - QUACK! SPIVAK IS BURNED OUT QUACK! SUBMIT SOMETHING!!! - >o Nigger Names Does your name look like something made up by a drunken chimp at a typewriter? Is your handle a factory second closeout like your parents couldn't afford a fancy-pants white name like Sean? Perhaps your folks simply didn't care after a night of smoking reefer and decided to pull tiles at random from a scrabble bag? You, my urbanly disadvantaged acquaintance, have a nigger name. What spurs this venomous excuse for an essay? Someone in the military, and don't get me started on them with their culture of entitlement, had a very unusual name. When I finally spoke with the customer I just noted the customer was a female and went about the business of processing an application. When I called later in the day to leave a message a younger woman who answered the phone said "he" was not in. "Well, is this individual a gentleman?" "Yeah" Of course the voices were distincitively "urban". The woman called back demanding she was the guy and said that she was a transsexual. The office had a jolly laugh when I shared that gem. I told her to stop with the shenanigans, I will be in contact with the customer and announced I was ending the conversation. She called back asking what shenanigans meant and why I was being so rude but when I told her I was transferring her to a manager she hung up when the manager picked up her line. These fucking nigger names, and this isn't the first time, have to be the greatest scam. Go on and rant how having a bizarro, pseudo-French-African name or an even more bizarre name that looks like it was made out of random scrabble tiles are reinforcing one's heritage. Personally I think that there's a strict quota in the amount of people who can be named "Lisa Brown" or "Jefferson Washington" at one time. These folks are so lacking in imagination and baby name books that the names are simply created on the fly. I digress. Who the hell knows if Myxlplyk Jones is a man or a woman. Some woman decides to get her husband into a bad financial situation because she's angry, she applies under his name and engenders an elaborate ruse to hasten the application process. The shitty loan is taken, the real Myxlplyk Jones is caught off guard and goes in the red or hollers at us for being thieves since we took the money that someone claiming to be Myxlplyk Jones authorized earlier in the month. Of course should anyone question the name or the gender of that person they'll become all offended at the carefully guarded suspicion. "I am a man, I just got a high voice!" is what I hear most and I give those calls to my manager. She says "They sound black and that usually happens just do the call" and passes it back to me. I smile and say "I really wouldn't know, they are on the phone and everyone sounds the same." But heaven forbid one even dares to simply remark "Oh, it was just an unusual name and I wanted to clear things up" they pull out the racism guns. Simply because you were born with black skin and have an aura of entitlement from five hundred years of slavery, slavery that you never experienced, now you're going to push the guilty white people situation by pulling the po', downtrodden nigger routine. That's right, that kind of attitude makes you a fucking nigger. By virtue of being born with dusky skin does not a nigger make! You are black until proven otherwise in mine eyes. Never African-American though because I know if I took some black kid who grew up in Newark and left him for a month out in the more civilized sections of Kenya or Nigeria that individual would be screaming about the savagery. If a black person could prove to me that they could, buck naked and armed only with a spear, hunt down a water buffalo then I'd consider calling them African-American. The sad thing is that this essay makes me into a gun-totin', nigger-draggin', sister-fuckin', g-droppin' redneck when my sole intent is to promote equality. Most times it appears to be equality on my terms but whenever I have seen equality enforced that equality leaves someone at a disadvantage. Someone is always more equal than others by virtue of their participation in the victim culture perpetuated by a sensitive yet innately racist society. Whenever someone gives a black person a break or turns a blind eye you are being just as racist as the guys who dragged James Byrd, Jr. behind their pickup truck as a lark. That person you gave a break to simply because of their skin color will never learn how to do anything for themself except manipulate guilty white people into tilting the playing field in that individual's favor. Make them work for it like everyone else. Man, I was all over the place with that one and it's a perfect example of "typing". If I had the patience to read it over and rewrite or tweak paragraphs then it'd slowly stumble towards being "writing". In Yer Dreams! A sad, little dream. Everything seemed one-off in my dream. I was coming back to New Jersey to see a greyhound dog who resembled Joy. For those playing along at home Joy was Malyss's dog for many, many years and crossed the rainbow bridge a few years ago. She was very lean, aerodynamic and had a wonderfully needy disposition. When I got to the dog's place there was this big girl who was like a linebacker but wasn't Malyss, who is more of a back end, who told me that the dog died the day before my arrival. I was so very heartbroken. The girl really didn't care but told me that minutes after the dog died she gave birth to two puppies. She was steadfast on keeping one of the pups and told me that she already found a home for the other puppy. I bit my lip as I felt my sinking stomach. Spot woke me up by batting my feet. In THEIR Dreams! It had to do with it being Thanksgiving and there was preperation of THE MEAL feeling. And there was something about there being a store roped off but I can't remember why but that was after the sex part. We were still clothed mostly and it wasn't rushed or anything even though the sneakiness, and I was on top I think. And somehow we had to sneak around because the neighbors (then later the store) would see and wouldn't sell us whatever it was that was roped off. That's about all I remember. But there was a whole Thanksgiving dinner table feel to the place we were at.