by Doug Giles
Sometimes I wish I was a radical gay, or a revolting, slick-haired, black race-baiter or drastic Muslim like that angry, rage-boy dude who’s the poster child for all the funny as heck Muslim memes.
Why am I forlorn at times with my heterosexuality, my caucasoidness and my evangelicalism? Well … it’s not that I now loathe the ladies, my pigmentation or the five Solas of the Reformation, but it’s primarily predicated upon the fact that as such a critter I can’t get away with squat any longer.
Heck, I can’t even use a tone in my voice, unless I’m mocking a redneck, lest I be reckoned with a notorious seventeenth century slave owner from Sierra Leone. And forget having chicken at a BBQ I’m hosting if I have any black friends over for that soiree. Somehow that’s now become an insult.
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