Monday, March 14, 2005

Go for the Black Gold

Dear Donny,

I'm a married man, with a couple grown kids, but that's just
circumspectual. See, there's this woman that works for me who I think
about day in and day out. She's cute as the winning bunny at the state fair
and got brains to boot. Thing is, she's afromerican and dark meat was
always frowned on at our kitchen table. She's dark toned too, but so high
functioning she'll make you forget.

Now my Christian faith keeps me from wandering astray on most fronts,
but even our Lord can't stop a saint's mind from sashaying down the
wrong path. Times I just want to slap her backside and give her a wink. And I kinda
get the feeling she'd like me to.

Like I said, she works for me and I keep doing things to impressonate
her. First I hired a afromerican for a big job at my company just to show I
don't mind having em close around me. She must a knew I did it for
her and had me round her cute little finger. Then she flattered me into taking
over this little company oversees. I wasn't too sure about it, but she
said it was the right thing to do. Course I couldn't get enough of her and
one day she whispers in my ear she wants the job of the afromerican fella I
told you about earlier. So, we drum up some story how he wants to spend time
with his family and show him the door.

Now she's got his job and before you know it she's off with the
company jet on a tour of Europe. Dag-namit if I didn't have to high tail it over
there myself just to smell her sweet breath again.

So Donny, what's a man like me to do? I'm a promineminant member of
my community, but she makes me feel like a pup on the range.

God Bless ya,

W.


Dear W.,

You hot dog. You really are in a pickle, aren't you? Or rather, you'd sure like to have your pickle in.

You know, there's an old saying about afro-girlfriends outside of marriage: "You can't have your chocolate cake and eat it too." But in this case, I think we can avoid silly old epiteths and stick with the unique words I am going to offer you now in your modern dilemma during these spiritually difficult times.

First of all, since you are a spiritual man, you must look deep into your holy heart and ask yourself the big question. "Do I want to remain true to my vows that I made to my old wife, or do I just want to eat, hard, a good piece of that forbidden chocolate Candi?" And as we all know, since no one can resist chocolate, you will probably take the next available service vehicle from your company's fleet and get your riled up soul over to your Afro-bunny's briar patch before you can even say Uncle Remus.

W., it sounds to me like you're a good man with a good conscience. But every man has to be true to what it is to be a man. And what it is to be a man, is to follow his blood urges. This is sanctioned by God. Don't you just feel it? God has a plan for you. And furthermore, on a more earthly plain, if you really want chocolate love, why settle for vanilla swirl?

If you really loved your wife, you wouldn't even be thinking about this Nubian hottie. God is in charge of everything. He put these lustful thoughts into your head. Your wife, sure, she might have raised your children, she may have even taught you how to read, but W., God is telling you now that that part of your life is over. And God never fudges. So go make some good fudge of your own.

And remember to use your aggression that you must have used to rise high in your big business. Go for it with no wavering. Give it to her hard. It sounds to me like this little afro-temptress wants it. And it sounds to me like she'll be worth the risk. The darker the lady, the sweeter the hole. Get in that dark rabbit hole. It's going to be a wonderland for you.

And to keep a good, functioning boundary in your life, it is essential that you quit your job, immediately. If your wife divorces you over any of this, give her everything, and hop, hop, hop with your black bunny love to a safe place where race is not at all an issue and where an aggressive, take charge business man is needed. Perhaps you can buy Brazil.

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