“One Race (And It’s A Real Slow’un)”


“One Race” The Answer,

fever blisters’ Lip Service

swirls down the toilet!*

 

  • (When asked by some Skinheads holding fort across from the wanna-be onepercenter biker club across the street as I banged on their hatch with a Warlock M/C biker in tow, to the question: “Who’sit?” I replied “The Jew across the street you goddamn moron – open up, a clubber wants to check you out!” The ‘Heads had seen the biker club’s bus to haul both bikes and drunks back to Lake County after the day-long party, so they knew at leas half of my screed was true: so they opened up and the clubber and I climbed the last drunk stretched across the doorframe and checked out the sad assemblage for a beer and so shot breeze.  Later, when walking back across the sad road to the Jokers’ clubhouse, the ‘Lock asked me a question he’d heard me espouse to the head Skin’: You really believe it’s all one race, us humans ‘n’ all?  “Yup. One race. Each and every one of us Homo Sapiens Sapiens are all genetically the same despite the melanin and the hair and the hips and lips – that’s all geography and possibly inbreeding like gals and boys in Appalachia all have one leg longer than the other from running all those ridges. And, it’s provably a real slow race at that, considering how we waste time tussling at the bottom of a very large barrel while the big boys on top hoot and laugh at out stupidity.” He stopped his cross-street march, turned full on to me, shook his head and swore: “Goddamn! But you’re a funny guy, Pigpen.  Sure you don’t want to ‘patch?'” Naw, I replied: “‘sudes’ The Jokers really own first call, lessen’ you count them guys from Wisconsin.  I got too much freedom from my last club, the You Esse Mohreen Crotch ever to want to join another bunch of ‘Do Our Thing Only’ types again.”)

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