My dad would try to find racism in anything.
*in the supermarket*
“Now son just look at these cocoa puffs. Now you ask yourself why must I be coocoo for the cocoa puffs? The white man think I’m crazy? The white cereal frosted flakes are grrreat but the cocoa puffs make you coocoo! And why is the brown rice called wild rice? Just because it’s brown? And why are the black olives in a can? The green olives in a nice jar, but the black olives is in a can! Ask yourself why do they lock the black olives up? See what the white man tell you? You coocoo, you too wild, and you gotta be locked up!!”
We didn’t watch sports when I was growing up because ‘the black people don’t watch sports’ but my dad did let us watch bowling. He liked the symbolism of that big black ball crashing toward those ten white pins. And all the pins had red necks.. - Some black comedian who’s name I can’t remember.
> My dad would try to find racism in anything.
The rest of your comments are too funny. I had a Dad who carried over the seeds of racism from his forefathers who were slave owners and he was pretty much the same way (I figured out it was learned behavior later). Funny thing is one of my best friends was black after I got out of high school and I ended up playing guitar with him in an all black band in my twenties. I found out that if I didnt feel tense around them or act different that we got along just fine.
I’d rather have a respectful God fearing Blackman as my next door neighbor than a foul mouthed redneck any day... lol