Flapjacks At A Waffle House

This can't be happening. I am sure that I am dreaming. The magnetic poles are doing a square dance and Lucifer is serving grape flavored Italian ices in Winnipeg with one of those Sharper Image personal neck-air conditioners. None of this is real, but it is. Ok, historically when I decide to write a good homepage (with clever history tid-bits wrapped in good ole drug induced, violence laden lunacy littered with comic book references (Deus Ex Machina kicks fucking ass!)) I call myself doing a bit of research before I put finger to key. I usually stay up all night trying to find something or usually someone obscure enough on which to base my whimsical little prose. I demand that I learn something. Once I'm able to wrap all that chaos into a few cohesive paragraphs I scour the web for the perfect image to represent the feel of my precious new article. Well tonight, something changed. Something wasn't right. Marvel resurrected Bucky Barnes, Spielberg re-edited Raiders, New Coke is on every grocery shelf because when I did an Image search on Google.com for the word "pimp" all the images, save half a dozen…were of white people.

I'd been stewing about my latest article for almost four whole days. It was going to be about the fictional "Pimp-Olympics" to which I would have been sent, by my tyrannical and terminally white oppressors, to cover and for which I was to provide commentary. It was great! I had blocked out the article and how I wanted it to flow, knowing where I wanted to plug the 400 Meter Pimp-Slap jokes, where I was going to make the synchronized Hoe-Punch references and at what point I'd harp on the Kicked In The Stomach And Hunched Over Hoe Hurdles. It would be magnificent. It would quite possibly be my best work this year, if not to date. Then…. You'll have to forgive me, as this is quite difficult.

I went to Google.com early. I should've finished the outline I'd started first, but I didn't. I was rash and reckless. Had I waited until after I finished the article to look for a caption picture, maybe the gods who sip upon Milk and Jack Daniel's would have grinned upon my beige-ish, Greek-American hide and the horror to which I was privy could have been averted. Alas, I didn't finish my outline first. I typed the letters "p-i-m-p" into Google, I hit enter, I saw the first picture of the one dude in the yellow, I saw the little South Park character, I went page after page after page after page, … and I began to cry at what I saw. We've gotten to a point where we're so afraid of offending someone that we're overlooking some of the very things that make the life we live so vivid and worth living.

It would be like not being able to find any record of a white President.

Feel me?