Some folks have no sense of humor at all

Last Thursday I was loading my truck and saw Brotherman Jerome in the office so when I went to turn in my paperwork I stuck my head in the window and told him we were going to have him, his wife The Queen Bee and all 7 of his adopted chirren over for a barbecue sometime soon.
“…..Yeah man, so I was just giving you a heads-up. But we’ll have chicken and ribs and watermelon and okra and all that other food you people like ’cause I love ya, man.”
“Uh-huh. You people, huh.” He’s giving me one of them sideways looks.
I was still able to maintain a straight face while everybody in the office was looking shocked or laughing depending on how well they knew me and Jerome. “But I need to know before you come over Bro, what flavor Kool-Aid should I get for your chirren? Red or purple?”
He got all ghetto on me then. “Man, how you gonna act coming off with all that red or purple flavor crap? Huh? Now you know my chirrens likes RED Kool-Aid.”
Then both of us got to giggling so fucking hard that it was obvious I was clowning him but don’t you know some motherfucker turned me in for making a racist statement? I got no clue who, they won’t tell me but it was ‘mentioned’ to me today and I was told I may get written up over it.

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12 Responses to Some folks have no sense of humor at all

  1. Odysseus says:

    I must be the trans-racialed, cause I love all that stuff.

  2. I wouldn’t have had it “mentioned.” I’d have been fired without warning. And this even though the only double-tenured professor in the department (tenured and affirmative action tenured through being–his words, here–the token black guy) would have been rolling on the floor laughing.

    • Wirecutter says:

      ‘Mentioned’ is a gentle word for ass-chewing.
      I figure that if they were going to fire me for something racist they’d have done it when I was wearing my Poor White Trash T shirt. Or when inquiring as to the amount of people we had on the job, asking how many metsicans were on hand. Or when I remarked to a boss one time that now I know what it must’ve felt like to be at the Alamo. Or when…..

  3. FrankC says:

    Offended on behalf of somebody who was not offended. That’ll be a liberal/socialist/democrat then.

  4. hiswiserangel says:

    God save us from the whiny PC crowd. If you can’t fucking laugh at yourself…

  5. Randy A. Erwin says:

    Man Cutter….I member when Roney Rome used to wear a shirt that said ” The last plantation is a black mans mind.” If “we” were to wear some white shit like that, our asses would be upstairs then wearin a brand new Safeway t-shirt. Roney Rome was off the hook though. That dude was straight up good peoples. Tell em Randy says hi.

  6. David says:

    Refuse the write up, you have a right to face your accuser. They then have to warn you first that you may have violated a rule. Insist that the complainant has miss heard or misunderstood. Force the pansy ass to make a public complaint.

  7. Dan O says:

    I think third-party complaints are cowardly and are usually filed by someone who doesn’t participate in camaraderie of the majority in a group. Witnessed a man lose his Naval career because of a third-party complaint. The person he was accused of “harassing” had no part in it as far as I know.

  8. Ironmonkey says:

    Happened to me, years ago. A couple of times at the same place. Ok, the first time, we were asking for it. I worked alongside an Indian Sikh, called Satnam. We got on great, and were friends. Then a family of South Africans turned up working there, and the mother was a real bitch. So, to wind her up, I used to call Sat ‘my little Kaffir’ when she was in earshot. I got hauled up for that one, this particular place had a large number of mixed race employees, and racism was a problem (Damn, those Indians and Pakistanis HATE each other). A while later, I got into an argument with a proper little shit of a Pakistani. He called himself Jazz, so I called him Jizz. We had this row, ending with me threatening to paint the wall with his carcass. He cried to the bosses, playing the race card. Hauled up again, I went off on one at the supervisor, to the tune of this;’ Racist? Me?! How fucking DARE you? I work over there with Sat, yes? I’ve been to his house. His wife cooks me food, we’re good friends, if I were racist do you think that would be the case? The reason I can’t stand Jizz has nothing to do with his race, it’s because he’s a cunt. Simple as that. And if you dare accuse me of being a racist again I’ll show you how little I really care about this job, and an assault charge!’
    Nothing more was ever said to me, I worked there for about another 8 months.

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