Africa Unite!

No stranger has ever stopped me in the street and called me an egg suckin’ scum bag Jew hatin’ monkey boy scoundrel piece of gutter trash. Because I just don’t give off that kind of vibe. In fact while walking the streets of downtown Toronto I try to give off as little of any vibe as possible. So you can imagine my surprise when apparently I was giving off the sort of vibe that makes a stranger ask where I live and if he could come pick me up Sunday morning. I know…you’re confused, let’s start from the beginning. This beginning is different then most beginnings, in the sense that it starts at the end. That is the end of class…and at the end of class I do what I usually do which is walk to the train station and get the hell outta the shit hole known as Toronto. This walk is usually uneventful, the usual sites, fresh looking gangstas, trendy looking girls, dirty looking men and even dirtier looking homeless people. But today as I walk, I see a man waving a pamphlet with a large silhouette of Africa on it, and the words “Black History Month”. I check my internal data bank to confirm two things: One that it is in fact April, and that Black History Month is in fact in February. How embarrassing for this young lad, he’s two whole months late. (shrug). Or ten months early right? Tomato, Tomato, hmmm doesn’t work as well if you can’t hear the intonation in my voice change as a say tomato twice. I’ll assume you know what I’m talking about… OK so here is when things get interesting, as a walk past the man, shaking my head, wishing someone would tell him he’s promoting Black History Month during the wrong month, (which by the way, is a big problem given the name Black History Month. You’re only supposed to learn it during the specified month, if you could learn black history anytime, they’d call it “Black History Anytime” or “Black History Sprinkled Around Here And There” which would of course be shortened to BHSAHAT.) But things start to get really weird when I see another man a couple of meters away waving the same pamphlet. OK I think to myself I need to see what this hoopla’s all about.

“Sir, spare a moment for Black History Month”
“Listen, I should really tell you something…”
“O we know, we’re part of an organization trying to extend Black History Month year round.”
“…To a Black History Year, Black History Anytime, or B.H.S.A.H.A.T?”
“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Would you like to contribute a donation of at least two dollars?”

Now the whole time this conversation is going on I’m doing the pocket pat to signal I do not have any disposal change at this time.

“Oh no change?”

“No, sorry.”

“Well, I have change, you have any bills?”

Well I believe persistence should be rewarded so I hand him a five and ask for a two dollars back.

“Thank you sir.”

“No problem.”

“We are having get-togethers on Sunday mornings do you think you can come?”

“No, I work Sundays…”

Now I think it is important to remind you this is a true story and the following actually happened.

“Well, where do you live can I come pick you up?”

“Uhhh…”
“Is it far?”

“Yes…”
At this point I’m panicking, is this man going to try to rape me? I suppose he could tell that his idea wasn’t appealing to me because I was crouched down in my anti-rape stance.

“Hahaha, OK I can tell you are busy, thanks for your time.”

“No problem.”

Is there a point to this story? No it’s just a little anecdote that holds little to no importance.