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Ask Bob!
I don't have any questions to answer today 'cause I 'v been too lazy to check my email. In addition, I'm eating a popsicle, pardon - I mean a frozen fruit bar. That means I'm writing with just one hand while the other holds the frozen treat. The last two sentences took about 15 minutes to write, but I'm finished now so I can go ahead and ramble on. In last weeks column, Stephen accused me of "playing the race card," because I objected to being treated like shit at Home Depot. That's actually a white mans code that means, "Don't talk back to me...nigger." It's supposed to shut you up. So fuck Stephen, he can kiss my ass. Mutha fucka...bitch...Stephen! Damn that dirty ape. Mutha-fucka, I kinda like the sound of that. I'll try to use it more often, like my childhood friend Eminem, or Marshall Mathers, or Slim Slady. Lot of folks don't know it, but he used to live right down the street from me. The mean streets. That's why we identify with the hip-hoppers and pill poppers. That's why I identify with the minorities, that...and also because I'm a Mexican-Jewish American who was raised by a black man. So hate-mongers, like mutha-fucka Stephen, gots a chance to hate me from every angle possible. Anyways, I'm the one who gave Marshall Mathers his nickname. Don't get me wrong, I don't love the guy, but he speaks his mind and that's cool. So he was called slim when we was kids, that was a given. Because he was real skinny. He was sooo skinny - he was soooo - skinny, folks called him slim. We was the only non-blacks in our school, but I was still darker that ol' slim. That made him sad. So at the tender age of seven he started smearing dirt on his face to make himself look darker. So one day, a brother stops him on the playground and says, "What makes you think you can be a neeegro." Slim says, "I can play B-ball better than anyone here...black!" Brother Cornel says, "Hmmmm." while givin' him a "you ain't all that look." I felt a fight about to start, so to break the tension I circle around slim and says, "Boy, you don't look black wit that dirt on ur face, youuus looks shaaaady. Yo, check out SLIM SHADY!!!!" And everybody laughed. The name sort of stuck. I've never received a royalty check for my help in his success. And while I'm on the subject of cookies. Today everybody at work was talkin' about how they all get headaches every day. I think, I never get headaches? But then again I don't work that hard and I don't care that much about what I'm doin', so I guess that's the advantage of being an under acheiver. So at work they had these goo-ey chocolate chip cookies, in the break room. I eat one with coffee which kinda made the chips goo-ey-er. I liked it. Then I go to the bathroom, and like so-many-naughty-boys, I don't wash my hands. I walk out of the bathroom and there are a bunch of employees standing around the water cooler, and they start laughing at me! I think, "I didn't have a big beef blow-out in the john...so what could be so funny this time?" They just don't stop, the laughing gets louder and more and more fingers are pointing at me. So finally a girl shows me her mirror that she pulls from her purse and I got a big brown smear on the side of my mouth...looks like a turd smear. Ha, ha...I get it. Mutha-fuckas...laughin' at me and shit. But it don't matter, 'cause Stephen's still an ass-hole. And now you know! COMING NEXT: I decide to get "uppity." Email Bob! webmaster@theweirdcrap.com
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