*Must give Jake credit. He said he wanted us both to join the LAPD and reenact the Lethal Weapon series. He informed me I would be the black cop.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Wanted: Black Mentor
I have been tossing around the idea of joining the LAPD. Not really doing anything about it but on occasion my neighbor lies to me and tells me she is going to take me on a ride along in Compton. I am picturing my experience playing out like a scared straight video from 1978. If the cop thing ever does happen I have decided I need a black mentor to show me the ways. I am thinking an older guy who is about to retire who can take me under his wing. We will get off to a rocky start when he finds me cleaning my gun in the lobby and he mistakes me for a perp. After that we will most likely take down ex special forces drug dealers, rogue South African diplomats, some bad cops, and perhaps the Chinese mafia. All the while, my mentor will tell me he is getting too old for this shit. Eventually he will retire to spend his time being a goodwill ambassador while I end up drunk, calling my new partner sugar tits and blaming all wars on the Jews.
*Must give Jake credit. He said he wanted us both to join the LAPD and reenact the Lethal Weapon series. He informed me I would be the black cop.
*Must give Jake credit. He said he wanted us both to join the LAPD and reenact the Lethal Weapon series. He informed me I would be the black cop.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
I had a black mentor. It didn't turn out so well.
I am Arnold Silverman's personal physician, and I owe the readers of The Barry Rides an apology.
One of the key tenets of my profession, something I learned firsthand as I went door-to-door with a jar of leeches and a dog-eared copy of the New World Translation of the Bible, is this: elder abuse is a blessing. And Arnold needs our compassion . . . and a beating. Allow me to explain.
At Final Destination - "Where Seniors See the Light" - we seek to give our patients the very best personalized care. Even the troublesome ones like Arnold. (As some of you may already know, Arnold has acute dementia. His case is well documented, examples abound concerning his violence toward staff and his threats to fellow patients, but one incident speaks for itself. While treating the patients to the director's cut of Whose Life Is It Anyway?, Arnold entered the theater - he was wearing a Girl Scout uniform, which he had plundered from the locker of the head nurse, Viola Jenkins, said uniform belonging to Nurse Jenkins' daughter, Wilona - and, his face covered in his own feces, he lifted his skirt, revealing his huge erection, screaming: "Eat my sugar twist!!!!! Eat it!!!!")
Events like the one described above can test the patience - and the patients! - of the most seasoned professionals. Alas, I could not contain myself.
After I had three orderlies subdue Arnold and shove a colonoscope up his ass, all the while shouting "It's Giuliani time!!", I punched him repeatedly in the face . . . and then came to my senses.
Waving a picture of Aunt Ruthie, I just smiled. Forty seconds later, Arnold was crying and saying: "Anything but that. Please. Show me her ass, her vagina, anything but her face. Have you no mercy?!"
You can read the rest in the September issue of AARP.
Post a Comment