Professional Sports: Unbound Racism

When will we fight back against the racism of professional sports?

Here's an article (thank you, Mr. Shlemazl, it is good to see you coming around) that shows clear proof of such bigotry.

The World Cup was, in fact, very racist. Of course, I did not have the time to watch this event -- and even if I did have the time, it would have been better spent attending to professorial duties rather than such vulgar entertainment. But still, it is a fact that every team is owned by capitalist white men who exploit the labors of Sun People to do their bidding.

And come to think of it, isn't that what all Amerikkkan sports are all about? White dominance in the corporate office? Of course, most Amerikkkan teams are closed to People of Color; I am told that there isn't a single minority hockey player on any team! Now, you can say, "What about basketball? What about boxing?" Well, what about those sports? They are the very epitome of capitalist exploitation of starving young African-Americans so that they white ruling class can line their pockets with unearned profits. And that, my friends, is slavery. Twenty-first Century slavery, alive and kicking. And in the case of basketball, you should also consider the vile racial theories that support this game. Sure, notorious Nazis like "Jimmy the Greek" have been exposed, but we have a long way to go to achieve a true outing of the thousands of KKK members, Nazis, eugenicists, and other racial kooks who infest this game.

The fight begins at home.

Or in my case, at the food co-op. Because when I was there last week, I looked around and discovered, to my horror, that everyone there was white. The members, and especially the fascist managers, did not have a single beautiful black face among them. Only the young man wheeling a hand truck of avocados was a Person of Color -- hence proving that slavery exists right in my food coop.

I headed directly to the manager's office and swung the door open, trembling in an uncontrollable rage. Seated at a desk was the coop manager himself, a regular Dr. Mengele, undoubtedly plotting his next supremacist move against the most vulnerable amongst us, the People of Color.

In my rage, I sprayed the room with spittle: "You racist filth, why are there no People of Color in this store?"

He answered, "Professor Kurgman, didn't you promise to stay away after our little fair-wage 'debate' last week?"

I was livid. "That was apparently part of your plan, wasn't it? To suppress my freedom of speech so that you can execute your genocidal employment policies."

"Look," he said, "anyone can join this food coop, and I too would be happier if our membership was an exact reflection of the community's racial, ethnic, religious, and gender makeup. But you know as well as I that there are few African Americans in this neighborhood, and that, by and large, they seem to prefer grocery shopping at Kroger and Wal-Mart."

At that point, my bowels loosened. "W-W-W-WAL-MART?? You think that minorities should shop at Wal-Mart? You're a racist! Your'e HITLER! YOU'RE HITLER! HITLER! HITLER! HITLER!"

Other people in the store heard this, but I didn't care. Morality was on my side.

I was so furious that I completely lost control of my bowels. "HITLER! HITLER! AM I EMBARRASSING YOU? WELL, GOOD! THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING AND THEY SHOULD KNOW YOU ARE HITLER! DO I SMELL BAD? WELL, FUCK YOU, HITLER -- GET IN TOUCH WITH NATURE!"

It was time to execute a sit-in in front of his office. So, I parked myself on the floor in front of his office and observed the all-white crowd in the food coop. And for once, I was perplexed. As the aroma of my fragrant vapors filled my nostrils, I sat, wondering why there were no People of Color in such a progressive establishment. Don't they understand that, as their patrons, only we can bring them justice? Don't they realize that only tenured professors and the progressive legal community can protect them?

For sure, all the white people in the coop shared my sentiments. Of course, with our busy schedules, we don't have time to shop at those exotic and honest grocery stores in Communities of Color. But were it not for circumstances beyond our control, we would like nothing more than to live amongst African Americans. They would look at us and know that we are on their side, and that we too despise Christians, capitalists, Zionists, and other white people.

And I wept. I sat on the floor, immersed in my precious bodily discharges, and wept for the African American community. I wept because we have failed to bring The Revolution to them. I wept because they are still in chains. And I wept because I hate our common enemies. How fortunate they are that I am on their side.

My sit-in lasted a full ten minutes; enough to make my point. I then lifted myself off the floor, adjusted my pants, and began my tour of duty at cleaning the salad bar.