You cry when your Conk dad blithely cuts down a Christmas tree with that Conky, Rushy shit-eating destroy-the-planet grin. When you see black kids, you worry that they're not getting enough to eat and that they've been snacking on lead paint chips from their tenement. You've read everything anyone ever wrote about Ghandi, Martin Luther King, Jr, Keith Olbermann, Nancy Pelosi, Barbara Boxer and John F. Kennedy. You have fourteen pair of Birkenstocks, all made out of hemp. You're hairy-armpitted granola girlfriend has had three abortions and your damned proud of each one of them, even though they were the result of her fvcking black guys because she worried they didn't get enough pussy. You have a Reagan voodoo doll with a hundred pins in it, all around the cock area. You're counting the minutes until Dick Cheney hears a truck backfire, strokes out, and dies. You haven't washed your dreadlocked hair since March and you think it's cruel to extermiante the gnats nesting in your crotch. Your '69 Volkswagen bus with the 34 Grateful Dead and ACORN stickers is the pride of the Alabama bohemian coffee klatch, such as it is. You have an autographed 8 x 10 of Jane Fonda and you beat off almost daily to nude pics you found on the Internet of Janeane Garofalo. You think Jesse Jackson and, particulary, Al Sharpton are just misunderstood souls. You've never thought of owning a gun and you think Charlton Heston was a scourge on American society.
Worse yet, you're a liberal stuck in Alabama!
Anyway, you're hiking along a lonely country road, your flannel kerchief napsack filled with oatmeal, pear, pomegranate, beeswax and flax trail mix, an ounce of marijuana and a copy of Mother Earth News. All of a sudden, you smell the acrid combination of burning oil and rubber and you see smoke at the end of some skidmarks leading down into the woods. You pick up your step and come across a terrible car crash.
The first thing you notice is the wild array of loud bumperstickers festooning the back, all Conky in nature. One says, "Reagan/Bush '84", another, "David Duke for President", as well as "Wake Up, White America", "Cheney/Bush '04", "N*gger, Please. It's a White House!", "Warning! I'm a Bitter Christian Clinging To My Guns", "Liberalism Is A Mental Disorder", "Better Dead Than Red", "Republican, Because Not Everyone Can Be On Welfare", "This Is America. When Ordering, Speak English" and the ubiquitous stars and bars.
You wretch a little, thinking of that little Conk mouse from Arizona on CS.com, but, you're a liberal and, thus, bigger than the small-minded among us, and you proceed to the cabin of the vehicle, a late model GMC Yukon. The guy in the front seat is in really bad shape. He's bleeding out of his eyes and nose and mouth, fighting desperately for his breath. Strange, but you recognize him. Where have you seen this guy before???
That's it! It's that racist azzhole, former KKK Grand Wizard from Selma, "Col." Carlton Jefferson Davis Fremont, who's been fanning the race flames lately. Dude's been investigated for decades by the Southern Poverty Law Center and the FBI and CIA and every other law organization for his complicity in a host of criminal activities, including at least five mysterious murders of black citizens going back to '75. Never been nailed on a single one. Hot shot Conk lawyer who was a Klan buddy, got him off every time on a technicality. He's most famous for video of him walking down a sidewalk after one of his acquittals and beating up a small, six year old black boy who just happened to get in his way. The footage made it all around the world and it stunned everyone, especially you and your girlfriend and you both cried for hours over it. Even mustered up all the white guilt you could and looked superficially into adopting the little boy. Your girfriend was deemed "unfit" because of body odor.
The guy was unabashedly in the Klan for three decades and caused a mountain of pain for both the white community and the black community. In the heyday of Ronald Reagan and George H W Bush and David Duke and Rush Limbaugh and Col Hogan, he was elected mayor of nearby Burnsville, AL, and tortured blacks for the duration of his 12 year tenure. He was the guy responsible for redlining black neighborhoods when it came to city services and school upkeep. Said in an infamous 60 Minutes interview that Thurgood Marshall was in Hell for Brown v. Board of Ed.
He's dying and, through blood-filled eyes, he pleads with you to call an ambulance, but not before telling you to get a haircut, calling you a bum. He shakingly reaches for his cell phone and offers it to you.
Question: Do you call for help or, knowing that the world would be better off without this diseased ultraConk, let him, or even help him to die?
