Wednesday, January 28, 2009

However, it Would be a Wonderful Name for a Wesley Snipes Film.

Dear Casey E. Thomas II,

Good day to you, president of the Dallas National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, Branch # 6169. My name is Alibaster K. Abthernabther, best-selling author, champion yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast, and concerned Caucasian.

It gives me no pleasure to bring to your attention a vile new addition to the meteorological lexicon. They call it “Black Ice.” And this morning it had the entire city in its frosty clutches.

That is, black ice’s frosty clutches had the entire city by the balls. So, you can only imagine how cold those balls were. They were really cold, frosty balls.

Nevertheless! “Black ice” is, in fact, transparent – not black. But who would be afraid of driving on “clear ice” or “invisible ice” or “transparent ice?” No one, that’s who. White America needed a term that would keep drivers on their toes, in fear of a shadowy menace that is out to steal their cars.

But “black ice” isn’t out on a carjacking spree so he can get accepted into a street gang and listen to the new Heavy D & the Boyz compact disk. This “black ice” causes nasty traffic accidents. Well, then why didn’t they just call it “Old Korean Lady Ice?”

I don’t know, sir. I do not know why they didn’t just call it “Old Korean Lady Ice.”

So we shamefully add the phrase “black ice” to a constantly growing heap of ignorant faux-Euro-intellectual garbage verbiage, such as “blackball” and “blacklist,” as otherwise innocent, average words are made evermore sinister when prefaced with the word “black.”

What did the words “ice,” “ball,” and “list” ever do to deserve being saddled with such a devastating prefix? And why did their credit scores each drop 100 points immediately after being blackened-ed?

Sorry, I forgot the rest of that bit. It was either Chris Rocks or Martin Lawrences or Byron Allen or Byron Nelson or one of those other Def Comedy Jam guys.

The pasty underbelly of the extreme Caucasian media underground has deftly inserted the “black ice” phrase into common conversation in a subversive psychological ploy to breed racist ignorance in our nation’s motorists and cross-town commuters. It sickens me. Though it brings me hope.

This bittersweet chocolate irony occurs as our country celebrates the historic inaugural year of President Barack Obama. And I am so sick, but I can only vomit hope.

To quote Heavy D; “Now that we’ve found love, what are we gonna do…with it?”


Alibaster K. Abthernabther