From Buckwheat To Token Franklin: Obama Makes Love To My Brain

Disassociated Press - Free of editing since 2008.

I come back from a two-month tea party in Nunavut with Rex Murphy and next thing I know Obama iz Prez.

And boy was it a mean tea party. Flavors of the world at our disposal.

Moon Zuppa asked me to offer my thoughts about the election. I said, "What election?" and they were like, "How much seal blood did you drink?" and I was like, "None. I'm Hemo-Intolerant."

They informed me about the first black President ever. I was surprised. I coulda sworn there were others. Weren't Bo Jackson or JJ leaders?

Then again, I never cared for facts or history. My first reaction was, "Fucken-A. Benson made it."

I asked what his campaign song was. I was disappointed he didn't go with "Fat Albert" or "Shaft" or "Sanford & Son" or "The Jeffersons." Although I hear he's already plastered the Oval Office walls with posters of Richard Pryor.

Our conversation concluded with my agreeing to offer my insights.

I made a few calls and discovered that Obama's first order of biz, in addition to growing a bad ass NBA-style afro, after he assumes full control of the executive is to introduce slavery. Only this time, it'll be white folk picking cotton - figuratively speaking. Three white people will be assigned to every black household in an effort to equalize history.

He's calling it "Reverse Slavery, Bitch."

I say go for it. If it means balancing things out I say it's about time. We white folks had it coming. And for those of you who feel you had nothing to do with the past I say too bad. You shoulda thought of that before choosing your past. Someone has to pay. Pay it back now!

While I was writing this article, I got hungry. So I headed for the pharmacy. On the way there, a kid tugged my jean jacket from behind as I stopped to light my cigarette. I hate when they fucking do that. He said, "Mister. Obama has inspired me to want to become the first Indian to become leader of America."

I kneeled down and put my hand on his shoulder and said, "That's great. Listen kid, don't take this the wrong way but get a grip. Even if you feather-wearing natives had a chance you would never succeed. To be leader of that country you need to be an American. You are in Canada dumb ass. Capiche, Buffalo Cheese?"

He began to cry. "But I don't want to be President of Canada!"

I looked at him and laughed.

Full on pills, I got back to work. According to my insider - who really isn't a political insider. He's just a plumber. And not a very good one - he told me a rapper he knows said he hear Obama say, "We are the establishment now! Bring some homies and chicks to the White House lawn! Let's bring class to this joint."

At which point, a delirious Jesse Jackson jumped up and cryptically yelped, "Yeow, My crayola's are missing!"

I also heard the KKK, for its part, is now planning to mail a copy of "Birth of a nation" on VHS to remind white people to "wake up" and take back their country. "When you mix a Jew with a nigger you get Jewnig. Do you want Jewnig's telling you what toilet paper to buy?"

The guy has a point.

I didn't know Obama until today. But already his tall, slender build and smooth verbal deliveries have left me wondering if he'll ever share a tea with me and Rex on the Mackenzie.

Jig Joner is a writer we found at a party.