GRILLING REV AL SHARPTONGUE

WHITE INTERVIEWER: Reverand Al, welcome... you’re lookin’ good... all that weight loss... and I love that coat. Is it ermine?

AL: Dat’s racist! This ain’t Herman’s coat. It’s mine, sucker.

No, it was a sincere compliment. Honest.

 Sincere? Then where’s my fresh veggie plate? I axed fo fresh veggies. I cain’t do no interview widdout celery. And just a tahnny bit o’ foie gras. I gotta have my pâté.

It’s on the way, Reverend. But I thought you cut out eating meat...

It’s liver, igonamus, educate yo’seff.

Goose liver is meat, Reverend

Long as it ain’t white meat (heheh).

Good one, Rev.

Now, before I ask about all your visits to the Obama White House, I’ve heard you’ve been having trouble reading your teleprompter. Is it time for you to brush up on your English? Here’s a recent example:

Das disrestressfil! Is it my fall if the show producers cain’t spell ebonicals correctilly. Well? Ain-it? And what business is it of y’all’s how miny tahms I been to the White House?

It’s everybody’s White House.

Not now it ain’t.

Now Reverend, we’ve heard over and over again from black leaders that we need to have an honest conversation about race in this country, but we never seem to be able to do it. Why do you think that is?

They right. We cain’t! Oh, carrots too. I need carrots. Peeled. Now all that aside, we cain’t have no honest diamalog wit white folks. All y’all wants is to keep us down.

Way-way-wait. Keeping you down? What about the fancy limo that drove you here. You’re wearing an expensive suit... and I like your tie... is that one of Trump’s exclusive designs?

I wouldn’t wear no ugly ass tie with that dude’s name on it. He a rich white racist like all you white folks. Axing for Obama’s birth certi– certi– filate like he done. Ain’t that racism? Well?

If all of us are racist, how did a black man ever get elected President? I mean a lot of whites had to vote for him.

Sure! They voted fo’ his white half. Millins o’ dumb-ass rednecks figgered a dude named Mitt... Mitt! ...must be some kind o’ black pimp... so they votes fo’ the lesser evil. A half-white guy.

I see. But it sounds like maybe you have a stake in keeping all this racial animus going. After all, if we all get along, you’d be out on the street again finding crimes wherever you see a white man, right? Who’s going to pay for the limos then?

Look, if y’all invited me here just to call me names... okay fine... knock yo’sef out. This be something whites just cain’t understand. ‘Cause you wasn’t slaves!

C’mon Al, neither were you. No African-American living today was ever a slave – except, if you want to believe Rush Limbaugh and others, blacks are slaves to the Democratic Party. No African-American’s parents or even grandparents were slaves. I know you don’t subscribe to facts, Reverend, but the Civil War was in the 1860’s... you know... a hundred and fifty years ago. Not to mention the fact that in America’s past, there were more white slaves here than black! How can we have an honest conversation when you won’t even accept reality?

White reality. 
(Al’s iPhone plays Dixie)
‘Scuse me, I got a impotent call here...
(Al turns his head and whispers into his phone)
Hey, Brotha Barack, whaddup?
Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeh, okay, bro.
Ah’ll take care of it, done-choo worry.
Meanwhile, can y’all get that damn IRS off my back? Yeh... like you did Gite-ner. Right!
Later.
(turns back to the interview)
Now where was we? Oh yeh, pass the salsa.

Didn’t Rosa Parks and Dr. King and that whole ‘60s civil rights movement start to correct racial injustices of the past?

Black folks still cain’t git jobs. The unreployment rate be high in the hood. Thass why young black men gits into gangs and drugs and shit. Now who fault that? Rich whites, like that Trump and his ties and golf crosses.

Golf courses?

That’s what I said, stupid.

You claim young black men can’t get jobs? Maybe they don’t want jobs? After all, even new immigrants are able to get jobs?

What are you, stupid? Soon as them rich white racists see a job appricant be black, f’get it... they don’t git no job.

Employers say it’s not skin color but the way they dress, the gang tatt’s, ridiculous hats, doing weed during the interview, not being able to read or write well enough, bad attitude and that sort of thing?

How dare you! I don’t see nothin wrong with that. If a white racist cain’t look past super– super– uh– facial fashion, it show a narrow mind. Besides, no self-respectacle black man want to dress like a Trump.

But you’re wearing a nice suit, like The Donald.

It ain’t simular! Mine got cool pain-stripes... and see this little hidden pocket fo’ my piece. I mean if I was carryin’. Not that I carryin’ now, I don’t wanna give yo’ audience the wrong depression. Now look here whitey, where my mo-fo carrots!

Let’s talk serious. You have been criticized for rushing to every site of a tragedy involving white and black; they say you foment confrontations.

There’s a lot of ‘em, tha’s why! And I not inna bidnness of foaming nothin’! The stupid nig... I mean my black brothus and sistuhs... invites me to come.

So that’s why you went to Ferguson?

Damn right. No justice, no peace.

And Trayvon?

Damn right. That handsome young black teenage honor student was cut down in his pride.

Prime?

Whatever. That racist Zimm’en treat him like a sen-class sitzen ‘cause he black. Treat him like a slave. He jus a innocent little boy lookin forwards to a career in astrophys... uh... asso-physicals with a bag o’ Skiltens... uh... Skippits... Sliktins... freakin bag o candy. Then ‘at racist bastid Zimmin cuts him down and leave him to die in the street like a dog.

And the phony Duke rape case?

That was simular. The whole white racist cop sitchy-ayshun need to be over-alled. An don’t bring up that old Tar-wanna Brawley bidness. Thass jus plain race-baitin’.

Over-hauled?

Agreed. They’s too much conflick. White racist po-leece is trigger-happy. They looks at a black man and sees a giant seven-foot gorilla. Okay, maybe the bruthas is a little high on PCP, is that any reason to shoot him twelve times in the haid? No justice, no peace. Mmmm, this pâté is delicious. But I has to watch my diet.

Now, Reverend, I hate to say this, but it really seems that, in your eyes as well as in the eyes of most blacks, no matter how bad the crime, you simply will not admit a black suspect is ever guilty of anything. It’s always the white guy’s fault. White people have no problem admitting another white person is guilty.

Hahaha! That’s cause y’all are guilty allatime. White devils. Hahaha!

What about O.J.?

No thanks, this Pellegrino goes very good with my pâté.

Well, I meant O.J. Simpson, but let’s move along. Why do you think the races can’t seem to get along?

Bush.

George Bush!? Reverend, that was over six years ago.

All that sea-gestation destroyed the newcular black family.

No no no. It wasn’t sequestration. Experts point to Democratic welfare programs, especially those which specified if there was no father in the home, the mother would receive more benefits the more children she had. So fathers abandoned their offspring, left them to the mothers.

Who you callin’ a mutha?

What about the legions of American blacks who are doing very well nowadays? Millionaire sports stars, recording stars, tv personalities, politicians, judges, business leaders and all the rest? Can’t you at least agree there has been some progress?

They all Toms. Uncle Toms. Prolly had white grand-daddies hepping. Except sports stars and rappers. They cool.

Sorry we’re out of time, Reverand. It’s been real, uh, well... wish I could say I learned something.

That cause you cain’t reason with white folks. See. Y’all jus’ don’t unstand what it like to be black and how we sees things diffent. We got soul. White folk is like white bread. Bland. Not like this pâté.

Amen, Reverend... uh... you... you dropped a little mayo on your Trump tie...

Damn! An me needin’ to run over to the White House now. Better sen my seckaterry to Bloomies to git me a new tie.

Well, let me miss ya, Whitey.

GRILLING GOD: 1

Well... I’m surprised and delighted you’ve agreed to see me, Lord, though it would have been nice if I could actually see you.

I sense some annoyance in your voice, My son.

Well... Lord... yes. More like anger. I’m angry as hell.

That’s not good...anger...

All this bad shi... uh... stuff that’s going on around the world. Shouldn’t You be doing something to stop it?

Me?

Yes, You. Let’s start with all these people being slaughtered by terrorists. Christians!

You believe Christians deserve some special protection?

They’re Your people aren’t they?

Yes, all people are My children, no more special than any other people.

But believers are Your people.

No more than any others.

Even terrorists... evil demons who slaughter children for gain... You consider these people Your people too!? I can’t believe that, Lord. What about the Israelis? I thought they were Your “chosen” people. What about them? These terrorists vow to wipe them all out. How can You allow this to happen?

Because I allow everything. That’s the beauty of the free will I gave you. It’s the greatest gift I bestow in the universe. Do you think stars and galaxies have free will? And as far as Me choosing anyone over anyone else, you have Me confused with all those “lower-case g” gods of antiquity. You know; Bal Marduk, Ra, Yahweh, Ishtar... that bunch.

But...

No buts. I am The Creator. Remember? The alpha and the omega. Your own Aristotle and Aquinas – a couple of pretty smart fellows – reasoned it out. They had Me pegged. The First Cause. Something had to start all this up. I set this thing you call the universe in motion; okay, a couple of inviolable rules of physics. Your theoretical physicists even named a subatomic particle after me. I made the Beginning happen; the rest is up to you. All of you. If you want to go around killing one another that’s your choice and your prerogative. You blame Me for giving you freedom? That’s rather humerous, don’t you think? Do you think I enjoy seeing you humans make the wrong choices 99 out of 100 times? Like I have nothing else to do in the cosmos but fix all the stupid mistakes you dumbbells make?

Whoa! Just a second, Your Gloriousness. That alpha and omega bit may have gone down back in the day, but this is the Twenty-First Century. We have Science, y’know. We can figure stuff out. And Science says the universe was created by random fluctuations in the vacuum and quark soup that emerged with the Big Bang. So now a lot of people believe them and not You. And without belief there is no moral imperative. So they do terrible things without fear. If You don’t step in now and then with Your magic wand or whatever You call that thing, well ...cold, heartless Science wins. More and more terrible weapons. More war. More misery.

Fluctuations. Ha! That reminds me of a joke I heard about this Chinese lady who couldn’t speak English too well... (God’s laughter causes the Ring of Fire to erupt; a 7.2 quake sends a tsunami rushing across the Pacific towards San Francisco.)

Don’t you understand that “randomness” is just Science’s pseudonym for Me. You think I am a metaphor for randomness? You think that perfect symmetry is “random?” These scientists of yours... aren’t they the same clowns that made a religion out of global warming? As usual, they have it all backwards.

Far be it from Me to dictate how anyone should believe. You’re free to believe whatever you want, no matter how stupid. Make right choices, and humanity prospers in every conceivable way. Make wrong choices, and... welcome to Earth.

So what are you saying, Lord? We’re on our own? You don’t give a damn about us? There are hundreds of millions of poor, suffering humans on this planet... lots of them look to You for help. And You just let wars and killing and misery go on? Forever?

Try to see it from My perspective, bucko. I’ve kept this cosmos thing going for eons. Your wars and miseries have all happened in the blink of an eye. You’ve piled up bones and ashes in a monument to stupidity, all in an infinitesimal slice of Time. But you are doing the piling, not I. It’s all the doing of your race, My son.

Don’t give me that My son, My son crap! Who needs a Father Who doesn’t care!

You are angry.

Well...?

Of course I care. Humanity is My child.

If You can make night and day, why can’t You help us?

There you go again, thinking just like a dumbbell. I gave you FREE WILL. Just as I gave it to Marduk and Isis and Odin and all the olden gods... who I might add abused it terribly. Warring against one another over the same stupid things as in your time, teaching you gullible Earthlings how to make more and more terrible weapons. Tsk-tsk. Don’t you think it hurts Me to see how My children are so easily drawn to darkness? Frankly, eight thousand years of your countless screw-ups is enough to make Me think you are a hopeless lot.

Well, what in hell are we supposed to do? We’re just human beings, You know. There are evil, miserable people in this world You created. Own it. They don’t listen to reason.

It does seem to have become part of their genetic make-up, doesn’t it. But believe Me, I had nothing to do with that either. Wrong choices become habitual. Habits become engrained. Over the generations it becomes part of your genetic code.

So, Mightiness, what do You suggest we do?

Millennia ago, Yahweh’s attempts at peace failed to work with the evil ones of his time. He was a pretty clever god... had a bit of a temper... but smart. He knew how to handle wrong-doers.

What!? What are You saying? That we should eliminate the bad genes by killing all the bad people? Won’t we burn in hell for something like that?

There’s more than one way to skin the proverbial cat. Or are you “Twentieth Century” know-it-alls unable to think your way out of a paper bag? If appealing to the goodness I gave your kind isn’t persuasive enough, maybe your glorious Science can find a way to excise evil from the genes. All these things and more are possible. It’s your choice. You worry about burning in hell? The world is burning now anyway. It’s up to you to put out the fires. But you can’t do it by complaining to Me. As one of My angels once put it, “For evil to triumph, all that’s required is that good men do nothing.”

Yeh, I get that, alright. You help those who help themselves. Maybe the good guys have been looking the other way for way too long.

Amen.

And by the way... maybe you ought to stop being mesmerized by your crafty fellow men. Stop choosing the wrong people for your leaders. Making celebrities out of dumbbells with minor talent always leads to bad results. Learn to see and trust rightness.

Well, kiddo, I’ve enjoyed our little chat... but I’ve got to be on my way now. There’s some serious trouble with a couple of spiral galaxies that have rather large black holes, all about to collide. Ten billion quadrillion souls praying for Me to intercede. And that’s just before afternoon tea. 

Wow.

Did anyone ever tell You that You sound amazingly like Brando in The Godfather?

Uh-huh. I get that a lot. But I sounded like that looong before My ol’ friend, Marlon.

So be thankful. Your problems here are small potatoes. Anyway We must do this again soon.

Ta-ta for now.

Yah... see Ya’ ...and Lord... thanks for the advice. I’ll try to get everybody to spread the word.