"Black Friend" is Largely a Myth

White Rash, Utopia -- At the annual "I'm OK, You're Non-White" conference on race and racism in Abilene, Texas, the University of Spokane released the results of an intensive three-year study on interracial friendships, with some surprising results. The report, a joint effort of the esteemed sociology and anthropology departments, definitively showed what many already suspected about interracial friendships in America: there aren't many. Most surprisingly, however, was the revelation that, though many white people purport to having a "black friend", this is not actually the case, in a literal sense.
"It seems that the 'black friend' spectre rears its head whenever a group of white people want to discuss racism," explained Professor J. Abu of the University of Spokane, "because it lends them an air of credibility. When pressed on the matter, many of these white people have been proven to have no black friends and barely any non-white friends at all." The most common interracial friendships with white people were with Asians, but respectable numbers were placed among latinos and Canadians. By and large, friendships between black and white people ranked lowest among interracial friendships, comprising less than 3% of friendships of any kind across the country.
One anonymous white person, cited in the report, admitted, "When I say 'I have a black friend,' I'm actually thinking of Jerome Watkinson from seventh grade. We sat next to each other, I lent him a pencil a couple of times. We got along pretty well." Another anonymous contributor offered this insight, "I have plenty of black colleagues, black people live in my neighborhood. We're all friendly with each other. Sure, we don't hang out or necessarily know each other by name, but we tolerate each other's existence, which is the first step towards friendship."
Professor Abu was less than glib about the findings. "The problem with the 'black friend' myth is that it suggests that, by having this black friend, one is allowed to opine on matters of race and racism because they, by an act of friendship, are proven not to be racist. It is actually quite the opposite." Stated Prof. Abu, "Allowing one black friend--real or imagined--to bestow a pass on a white person by association merely continues the same racist thinking where one person of color is an ambassador for an entire culture or race. I mean, this one black friend could be a total asshole."
Professor Abu also noted that many white people who actually do have a black friend are unknowingly sharing that same black friend with many other white people. "There were several cases where a white person was able to produce evidence of their black friend, and there were instances where disparate white people did have the same person as their black friend. In Southern California, there was a case where two-hundred white people all claimed the same black person as their friend." That person, who is unnamed for privacy reasons, was raised in an upper class all-white neighborhood and went to predominantly white private schools. "So you see," continued Professor Abu, "even though the black friend may be actual, it still doesn't give him the authority to bestow 'ghetto passes' or what-have-you."
Bruce Gordon of the NAACP couldn't be reached for comment, but Bruce Jenkins of 10th Avenue and 135th Street in New York City said, "Who wants one of these cracker bitches for a friend anyway?"

Here's a tip: Get a new job

I don't know if it's as prevalent elsewhere in the world, but here in New York City, "tip cups" have become quite common. At the corner deli, at chain eating establishments, even at the bank I have seen plastic cups labeled "tips", stuffed with change and a few dollar bills, sharing counter space with cash registers and items for impulse purchases. The first problem I see here is that employees are vying for my spare money alongside Lemonhead candies and cigarette lighters with naked ladies on them. I don't know what you've been told, but in the war between friendly service and tits, tits win every time.
The real problem I have with this is that it seems basically like a license for employers to pay shit wages. Now, I don't have an ethical problem with tipping, as a whole. Any delivery person deserves a tip of some sort, being that they expend a lot of physical energy just so I can have a life-sized wax statue of Tiffany Amber-Thiessen in my living room. Mailpeople probably deserve some kind of nominal tip, so that they'll have second thoughts when the time comes to throw your important packages under the wheel of the mail truck. Same goes for plumbers, auto mechanics, and other service workers, for much the same reason. Tips in this case are basically like bribes: You didn't spit in my food, right? You didn't read my magazines in the bathroom without washing your hands before delivering them to my home? Are you sure you didn't just charge me $500 for five minutes of work and fifty cents in parts? Thank you. Here's two bucks for your trouble.
When tipping becomes a nuisance is when it starts to become more mandatory and less common sense. I'd say that restaurants were the first to employ this "gratuity", which is not unlike the thank you notes your mom made you write to Aunt Edna even though she got you the most hideous sweater again that you have no hope of ever wearing, ever. Really, I don't feel like thanking someone for simply doing their job. If your boss pays you nonsense money because the public is expected to shore you up to earning a liveable wage, then your boss needs to get run out on rails. Sometimes, a waiter goes beyond the call of duty and actually warrants a gratuity, but more often than not, you took my food order, some Mexican guy ran it out from the kitchen, and then you somehow timed your "Is everything all right?" queries to interrupt particularly engrossing bits of conversation, or to force patrons to nod with mouths stuffed full of food. Sounds to me like you simply performed your regular duties, however admirably. My only tip would be to not mention how well your band is going everytime you come by to fill up the water glasses. To afford eating here, we customers had to get real jobs, and we don't cotton to being reminded that people still have fun out there in the world.
But now, cashiers want in on this tip action, and I say it has to stop. Most of these chain store jobs have such a narrow scope that you couldn't act outside of the parameters of your job, even if you wanted to. If I went into a McDonald's and asked for a turkey dinner with all the trimmings, that would be a tip-worthy feat. But since you just cranked out another burger from your Play-Doh factory, and I had to pay two dollars for it, to boot, I don't see what you've done that should weasel another quarter out of my pocket. What you need to do is tell your boss that unless s/he can pay a wage that will sustain the lives of the company's employees, then the company itself is not sustainable. Pretty soon, robots will be performing all of our menial tasks, and they'll have no need for tips or tip cups. This is a good thing, because we're going to need all the tip cups we can get for panhandling.

It's no one's fault but my own

Once, I was the envy of my peers and co-workers. I lorded over an empire of office supplies and letterhead stationery which was a topic of conversation, even in the Mighty Stock Room, from where most office supplies are derived. I never personally visited the Mighty Stock Room; I didn't need to. I burned that bridge when I laughed at the Mighty Stock Room employee as he tried to give me new Post-It Notes with the company website url printed on them. "Me?" I exclaimed, exasperated, "Young boy, I have enough Post-It Notes to affix to four sets of the Encyclopedia Britannica, without repeating color, size, or density!" I dismissed him with a cruel chuckle and a blithe wave of my hand. But I fear that my once-lofty empire is crumbling, and surely no one will help me back to where I once was. Amazingly, even though I had an entire filing cabinet drawer full of them at one time, I have completely run out of Medium Binder Clips.
This is a serious matter. It is not like when I ran out of pink, lined 3 x 5 index cards because I used my entire stock to create question cards for the mock game show at our annual company picnic. If anything, that was an mighty display of my hoarded office supplies, demonstrating that it is nothing for me to absorb two or even three packs of pink, lined 3 x 5 index cards, for I still have an admirable quantity in white, yellow and blue. I know it made more than one assistant jealous, considering that they actually use the cards for work purposes. Janie Salza from marketing even had the gall to ask me for some index cards a while back, in preparation for some project. I callously told her the Mighty Stock Room hours and sent her dejectedly on her way. You think she's going to give me any Medium Binder Clips now that I am in dire straits? Not a chance. In fact, if she catches wind of my office supply misstep, it will surely ruin my reptuation. But I can't hide my loss forever. I need my Medium Binder Clips.
Everyone knows that I like to affix ZIP disks to pertinent purchase orders using said Medium Binder Clips. Everyone knows this. And seeing as how I send out roughly a dozen or so purchase orders per day, it was clear that my supply would eventually expire. I didn't think. I should have kept better track of my incoming and outgoing Medium Clip Binders before the situation became so dire. I should have forseen this problem and either subtly worked Large Clip Binders or rubber bands into the mix to save myself some embarassment. And I certainly should not have told Kenneth Hottentot in research and development that I wouldn't give him a Medium Binder Clip to "secure a gushing neck artery." Well, now the artery of my office supply cache is hemmoraging, and certainly none will offer a Medium Binder Clip now.
If I am ever allowed to amass an impenetrable fortress of office supplies again, things will be different. I have learned my lesson. I will share any spare supplies to a degree based on how much I need them to complete my work and how necessary they are to the lendee. For example, I still wouldn't part with many Medium Binder Clips if I get a quantity back in the future. I need them. But I could certainly part with an unlimited supply of Small Binder Clips, which I barely use. I definitely wouldn't show off my case of Scotch Tape rolls to the intern and then shut and lock my personal supply closet in a smug act of vanity. Office supplies are a privelege, not a right, and part of that privelege is predicated on the notion that they will be used for the common good, and not for personal aspirations. I know that now. And if I am ever able to secure a quantity of Medium Binder Clips again, I swear I will apply this wisdom to the workplace.

Rappers Return to Drug Sales, IT Jobs

America, United States -- Well into the second quarter of the sales year, many rap music record labels are reportedly delaying expected releases "indefinitely" and renegotiating to cancel contracts with artists who have yet to record. However, slumping sales and industry politics are not the culprits this time around, instead many artists are simply quitting rap, or "leaving the game" as it is also known. This is due to a variety of factors, mainly that they aren't getting rich fast enough, yet do not want to die trying.
"I'm just not stacking the paper I thought I would," said Alabama-based rapper Hot Rockz, who quit a lucrative drug-dealing operation last year to break into rap music, "I made t-shirts, I screamed on a couple of mixtapes, but things aren't coming together like I had imagined. Turns out you actually have to make some music to be in this rap shit." Hot Rockz was never signed to a label nor did he release any music during his brief career, but he did shoot three videos that enjoyed regular circulation on BET.
Most rappers are returning to the jobs they left in order to get into the music industry, largely drug sales and working at corporate information technology departments. "I got into this game so I could launder some of that rock money, feel me?" said Burp Lawlezz aka Young Burp, a Minneapolis-based rapper that is able to burp on cue. "Turns out that in order to launder money successfully, you need to make some money. I was all prepped to make this Jay-Z loot but I wasn't really prepped to rhyme or make beats or nothing like that."
Industry executives are puzzled by this development, but there are no reported lawsuits against artists to date. "At Interdope Records, our motto has always been, 'let the Goof Mob be the Goof Mob'," stated Jimmy Iodine, speaking specifically about the startling departure of their critically-acclaimed but poor-selling rap act, "and that means if they want to be struggling artists or struggling fry chefs, we're going to let them do that." Iodine then excused himself as he took a bite of a Bengal Tiger sandwich and dabbed his mouth with a napkin made entirely from one-hundred dollar bills.
Executives at smaller labels, who potentially have more to lose, are less glib about recent developments. Eddie "Ed" McHurvey of Rank Out Records bemoaned the loss of two freshly-signed artists. "Man, we had everything set to go on these guys," he said, sitting behind a desk made from two milkcrates and a stop sign, "we made posters, stickers, t-shirts...I had two Escalades vinyl-wrapped with promotional ads and a spot running on MTV2 hourly. All we had to do was come up with the music. They left at the most crucial juncture in our arrangement." Still, McHurvey said he would not be seeking legal action against either. "It's all good," grinned McHurvey, "I can't player hate. I'm just glad to be down with the culture. Is that right? 'Down with the culture'? Help me out here."
Some artists remain steadfast in their pursuit of a lucrative musical dream. Knee-High of Brooklyn, NY said he would "ride or die for this rap shit": "Ain't nothing else you can do if you from the 'hood except rap or play [basket]ball." said Knee-High from the stoop of his Park Slope brownstone, solemnly, "That's why I pump these jumbs, to support my family and my peoples." Knee-High had to cut the interview short when his mother leaned out of an upstairs window and called him to dinner.