Reporting Live From the Leftest and Loudest Place Possible

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1913

Abstract

ar, as a means of apologizing not only to eachother — but to me as well. On the very off chance that happens, they can consider themselves forgiven in my book.I don’t think I’m supposed to say any of this out loud in today’s America — which is why I’m saying all of it. I’m not supposed to refer to the black lesbians as black lesbians anymore. And I’m definitely not supposed to openly hope they have sex on my neighbor's car. That’s machoism at it’s finest and America doesn’t have room for it, anymore. Times up. Testosterone is something we’re supposed to keep tucked into our testicles and not talk about. Well screw that noise, I’m up now — and you have a pair of black lesbians to blame for it.I grew up in a world where my cousins and I openly called each other gay and we meant it as an insult. We might’ve even learned such atrocious behavior from our parents — but probably not. Point being is, this world I find myself in is not the one I grew up in and it’s going to take some time to adjust. Bare with me.Fifty years ago, there’s a solid chance someone would’ve called the cops on the two young ladies screaming at each other behind my house — but it would’ve been for being black lesbians, not their noise level.While I enjoy progressivism as much as the next person, does it have to be so goddamned loud? I’m all for your right to marry and abort a baby midterm, I don’t care. All I ask is you do so quietly if you insist on doing it behind my house early on a Saturday.I considered calling the cops, before picturing the “what in the Notorious B.I.G. am I possibly going to do about this” look on the face of what would most likely be a white male officer of whom the call was dispatched to. His day is probably tough enough.People keep shouting at him about which color lives matter, the annua

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l police and firefighter softball game is around the corner…point being he’s got enough to deal with as is.So what can I do about being woken up unceremoniously before my Newspaper has even arrived on a Saturday, you ask? I can get back inside and mind my business — and that’s it. Any more than that and I’ll end up regretting it. I’ll be fired before the weekend’s end and I’ll be forced to apologize for tweets of mine from ten years ago.People will probably angrily respond to this — and that’s exactly why I wrote it. To prove we are a society that values virtue signaling over actual virtues. There’s no reason for anyone to be screaming at the top of their lungs at 7 AM. Half my neighborhood is being woken up to the sound of a woman yelling “I don’t even know that bitch” and nobody is going to do a fucking thing about it.What we’d need to properly diffuse this situation, is a straight angry black woman. She could get away with saying all the things I wish I was allowed to, to the aggressively passionate young lady who woke me up this morning.The black lesbians would know, they had met their match and take their bullshit inside somewhere. Where the fuck is Cardi B when you need her?So I’ll just go about my day, slightly more tired than usual. If I happen to complain about any of this at some point later, I’ll be told what a privilege it is to be able to have black lesbians argue behind my house and how grateful I should be for it. If I even begin to suggest otherwise, I’ll be called a hate monger who helped Herman Munster rise to power.Don’t mind me, I’m probably just grumpy from a lack of sleep. Hopefully, my mid-afternoon nap isn’t interrupted by pro-life protestors rallying behind my garage — but anything’s possible in today’s all too silly political climate.</article></body>

With apologies to Ellen Degeneres

There are currently two black lesbians screaming at each other about who loves who more behind my house. It is 6:45 AM on a Saturday morning and I shouldn’t have to take this shit — but I do.

As what appears to be a white male to the untrained eye, I can’t just go out there and start yelling at a pair of black lesbians, in the middle of a clear lovers quarrel. The Spanish security guard from a few doors down just tried and was told to “mind his own business and go back inside”.

He stood there looking confused and defeated for a moment, before doing exactly that.

I love how bold and confident someone who has just spent the last hour yelling at her girlfriend, before 7 AM on a Saturday can say that, by the way. She wasn’t the least bit apologetic — it’s her world and the rest of us are just trying to sleep in it.

Black lesbians are a tricky bunch to deal with. They have the woke on their side — but still grew up hood enough to handle their own. They have Ellen’s support but didn’t ask for it.

As much as I want to go yell at the bickering couple, the other half of me is rooting for them. Part of me is hoping they resolve whatever their issue is and have makeup sex on the hood of my neighbor's car, as a means of apologizing not only to eachother — but to me as well. On the very off chance that happens, they can consider themselves forgiven in my book.

I don’t think I’m supposed to say any of this out loud in today’s America — which is why I’m saying all of it. I’m not supposed to refer to the black lesbians as black lesbians anymore. And I’m definitely not supposed to openly hope they have sex on my neighbor's car. That’s machoism at it’s finest and America doesn’t have room for it, anymore. Times up. Testosterone is something we’re supposed to keep tucked into our testicles and not talk about. Well screw that noise, I’m up now — and you have a pair of black lesbians to blame for it.

I grew up in a world where my cousins and I openly called each other gay and we meant it as an insult. We might’ve even learned such atrocious behavior from our parents — but probably not. Point being is, this world I find myself in is not the one I grew up in and it’s going to take some time to adjust. Bare with me.

Fifty years ago, there’s a solid chance someone would’ve called the cops on the two young ladies screaming at each other behind my house — but it would’ve been for being black lesbians, not their noise level.

While I enjoy progressivism as much as the next person, does it have to be so goddamned loud? I’m all for your right to marry and abort a baby midterm, I don’t care. All I ask is you do so quietly if you insist on doing it behind my house early on a Saturday.

I considered calling the cops, before picturing the “what in the Notorious B.I.G. am I possibly going to do about this” look on the face of what would most likely be a white male officer of whom the call was dispatched to. His day is probably tough enough.

People keep shouting at him about which color lives matter, the annual police and firefighter softball game is around the corner…point being he’s got enough to deal with as is.

So what can I do about being woken up unceremoniously before my Newspaper has even arrived on a Saturday, you ask? I can get back inside and mind my business — and that’s it. Any more than that and I’ll end up regretting it. I’ll be fired before the weekend’s end and I’ll be forced to apologize for tweets of mine from ten years ago.

People will probably angrily respond to this — and that’s exactly why I wrote it. To prove we are a society that values virtue signaling over actual virtues. There’s no reason for anyone to be screaming at the top of their lungs at 7 AM. Half my neighborhood is being woken up to the sound of a woman yelling “I don’t even know that bitch” and nobody is going to do a fucking thing about it.

What we’d need to properly diffuse this situation, is a straight angry black woman. She could get away with saying all the things I wish I was allowed to, to the aggressively passionate young lady who woke me up this morning.

The black lesbians would know, they had met their match and take their bullshit inside somewhere. Where the fuck is Cardi B when you need her?

So I’ll just go about my day, slightly more tired than usual. If I happen to complain about any of this at some point later, I’ll be told what a privilege it is to be able to have black lesbians argue behind my house and how grateful I should be for it. If I even begin to suggest otherwise, I’ll be called a hate monger who helped Herman Munster rise to power.

Don’t mind me, I’m probably just grumpy from a lack of sleep. Hopefully, my mid-afternoon nap isn’t interrupted by pro-life protestors rallying behind my garage — but anything’s possible in today’s all too silly political climate.