Foundation Anger Management Fiesta

I have been writing this for some time, I have just been playing around with ways to place this entry into a blog with minimal editing in the transfer from Microsoft Word to MySpace to WordPress. My “Lego Star Wars III: The Clone Wars” (Playstation 3) addiction has not been helping either.

Truthfully, that above is not quite true. The truth is that I chose to delight you with a blast from the past. This post was indeed written using Microsoft Word. Further it has been transferred from MySpace to this WordPress blog. However, I have not really put too much time into this “edition,” other than add this foreword after the original introduction. I felt this was a good reprint to use for an introduction to The Rothechilde Foundation.

Starting this voyage somewhere near the middle of the trip, I will bounce back to the beginning after a time. The end of the story is an uneventful and quick ending that suddenly comes and goes after a bunch of writing and yammering. I just wanted to let you have a taste of my ADHD so that you feel like you are a part of my cognitive experience. Now, folks, somewhere in the middle…

Reporter: “Well, honky, cracker, white trash, etc. Those are funny. You know, when George Jefferson or Redd Foxx say any of those words, they are funny. Remember Richard Pryor? That ‘n’ word that you used is not funny; it represents years of subjugation and racist institution!”

Me: “Well, that is a bit redundant, are you of Manthony’s people? I shall speak with him about sending morons to interview me…”

Manthony: What is the fuck, my friend? Why are you tripping? He does not work for me!”

(Manthony:: “Look! I kno yo’ bitch ass gon’ read dis shit; yo’ OCD ass has to. Any fuckin’ way, don’ be messin’ wit mah words no moe! I talk like I wants to be talkin’. A nigga can’t deal wit it? He can talk to ma girlfriend ‘oops!’ I just got ma ass capped by Manthony! Believe dat shit! An’ ho’ I just said ‘nigga,’ wha’ tha’ fuck yo’ about-to-be-beat-down-interview ass gots to say about dat?”)

Very well…

Manthony: “Wha’ tha fuck, dawg? You kno’ he ain’t one o’ mah peeps!”

Me: “I know that, but I was making a pun based on your Department. Yes, I know you know that, also. However, this man is being a bit redundant, and unnecessarily so; racism is an institution by definition. He is suggesting some sort of uber-racism: an institutional institution founded in bigotry. Not to mention that he is being just plain stupid, why should someone be allowed to use some of those words and not the other? Oh yeah, because of slavery. Maybe it was that Jim Crow thing. Whatever. You know, I cannot go and punch a fellow everyday because he really kicked my ass for a bit. If something is over, then it is over. Stop punishing whitey! How about you, hypocrite? I am willing to bet that you thought Don Rickles was hilarious before Disney turned him into a talking potato”

Interviewer: “You are a horrible, horrible man.”

Me: “Thank you, my balls would look great in your mouth.”

And that is how I ended the conversation. This all started with a visit to a program that the Foundation is sponsoring at a local community center. The lovely people who secured the grant from us asked that we come to visit on this day in particular. Why? The local television station was going to do a story and they felt it would be good to have us there to speak on behalf of the Foundation.

My first thought was to send our illustrious Vice-President. I hate the idea of being on television. I hate the idea of being surrounded by children and on television even more. Most of all, I hate both of those things when they also include having some fake attitude from some self aggrandizing money grubber, eager to pat themselves on the back on the city stage.

As I thought of myriad ways to avoid this deal, Charlotte reminded me that Smeagol has a face that is not even suitable for radio. She was painfully correct; he cannot be put on television, particularly not as a representative our lovely Foundation. However, we do have Manthony. He likes television and the idea of being on it. I figured, I would go and do the dreaded spot with Manthony accompanying me. That way, I could avoid trying to connive away my presidential duty.

Most importantly, we have Charlotte. If you tell her that you want the whole deal to last no more than five minutes, then she will have you to your car in three of them flat. Everyone knows that. However, we need to be reminded of that from time-to-time:

Me: “Manthony, my secretary just informed me that one of our sponsored programs is being visited by a local television station. They would like a representative of the Foundation present. As President, I have to go as the Executive Secretary reminded me that our Veep does not have suitable appearance for television.”

Manthony: “Oh HELL yeah, le’s do dis shit up!”

(Manthony if you are reading this again, I just want you to know that your insistence that I write in your “dialect” is driving my spellchecker crazy).

Madame Secretary: “Whoa, that is not an option! The two of you are not going to be left to your own devices and allowed to go to that interview alone. What the fuck are you thinking? Smeagol is too ugly, besides should treat him…”appropriately,” we could have image issues later since the general public does not appreciate the extreme measures that have to be taken to contain him.”

Me: “Well, thank you for volunteering to chaperone…”

Madame Secretary: “That’s pretty funny. I am not dealing with that train wreck on my own. Charlotte has agreed to come also.”

There, it was decided and settled, we would all go to this interview.

We arrived about two minutes before the camera crew and the reporter. However, we decided to go on a tour of their facility and were not at the interview designation until after set up. When we made our way to the interview site, we were greeted by the site supervisor, a reporter, and a child. About forty yards away from us, a producer sat in the back of one of the station’s vans; he was going to be broadcasting this event I assumed due to the long antenna with the satellite dish jutting from the top of the vehicle.

The reporter was none other than Bert Berterson. I really hate this fellow; he seems to have some latent hatred of the Foundation and seeks at all times to “expose” what he considers inappropriate conduct perpetrated by our esteemed Board of Directors. His camera man was a bearded fellow who looked as if he had just spent two days sleeping in the very clothes he wore to this interview. His tee shirt, boldly emblazoned with the words: “White Trash Superstar” on the front, and “Cracker and His Technicolor Jean Jacket” on the back, was covered with stains from coffee and who knows what that color comes from?

The SS advised us that this child was one they thought would be a good representative of the children in the program and had been selected to join the interview. I recognized this child as the son of the SS herself. I mentioned this quietly to Manthony. I did not mention it quietly enough, because Charlotte happened to overhear it.

Charlotte: “What?! Sorry, this child is unacceptable! He is not even a participant in this damn program. Go find one who is, or I will do it for you. You have until I count to five to begin walking, lady.”

SS: “This is highly irregular. You have no authority to make demands of my program!”

Reporter: “This ought to be interesting; roll camera. Hello, I am Bert Berterson from TFTV Channel 11. I am on site at the Fun Summer Program site…”

Charlotte: “…two…”

Madame Secretary: “Actually, she does. If our Board decides that you are out of compliance with the grant specifications, it will be withdrawn; you will have to return any remaining funds. From there, a hearing will determine just how long you have been out of compliance and decide whether you have to repay the Foundation ANY funds that you have received.”

Charlotte: “You should have read the fine print, bitch. Four…”

Manthony: “Turn that camera, off…”

Charlotte: “…five. I’m going to get another child for this interview.”

Manthony: “Get dat boy over there; tha’s mah nigga’s Jo-Jo’s boy. He’ll do jus’ fine.”

Reporter: “Did you just call that boy the ‘n-word?'”

Me: “No, he called that boy’s father one of his ‘nigga’s. I believe they are familiar.”

Charlotte: “Hey, little man, come over here. We’d like you to appear on TV with us.”

Little Boy: “Hey, there unca Manny!”

Manthony: “W’sup, foo? Hey, I said turn dat shit off, man.”

SS: “Now, wait just a minute!”

Madame Secretary: “One more word out of you and you owe us money. Shut up!”

Reporter: “That large fellow should not be using those horrible words; not only is he perpetuating stereotypes, he is being a racist. Look at him! He is as white as they come and he is calling little black boys the ‘n-word!'”

Me: “Well, for someone so sanctimonious and politically correct, it would seem that you would not allow your camera man to wear that shirt of his out and about…”

And this is where we started. As I said earlier, this is where I grew tired of this interview and opted to leave. Mr. Berterson disagreed and chose to follow me to our Foundation limousine. His cameraman, still taping, followed him. Behind him followed the rest of the Foundation Board. The SS stayed back, wondering if she were now out of a job and/or program most likely.

Manthony: “I said turn dat shit off! I meant turn dat shit off. Now, dat I am turnin’ dat shit off!”

Manthony seized the camera, yanking it from the now-frightened man’s hands; pulling the man off of his feet and to the ground in the process. Then, he took a few steps back. You know, Manthony is a rather large fellow. Seeing him, you would assume that he is pretty strong. You would only be half correct; he is freakishly strong; freakishly strong and as graceful as a Peterbilt in toe shoes. He began to spin in a circle, like one of those Olympic hammer tossing guys. After he had built up enough speed, he released the camera. The video soul-stealing device sailed through the air in a nice, high arc. Near the end of the arc, it collided with the satellite dish on the top of the station’s van, crashed to the ground and skidded about ten yards to a stop on the other side of the parking lot.

The Secretary immediately got on her cell. We all knew that she was about to contact the Channel 11 in order to find a quick and news-free solution to this issue. The reporter and his camera man ran to the station van, leaving the remnants of their equipment behind and sped off. We got into our car and headed back to the Foundation:

Madame Secretary: “I was able to negotiate with TFTV (they should change their name to TSTV…heh heh, get it?), they will forget this happened if we replace the camera, satellite dish and antenna. Manthony, you will also have to attend the Foundation’s Anger Management Fiesta.”

Charlotte: “Well, that is a new one. Since he usually leads FAMF, does that mean I get to lead it since he has to attend?”

Manthony: “Hell no! You can’t be left wit Smeag by yo’ self wit dem tazers an’ shit…”

Me: “Sorry Manthony, but she is correct. You cannot teach the class. I would, but I am always in the class myself. Besides, Charlotte is great at this sort of thing. If I were leading, we would all be sitting around trying to figure out ways to subtly make a person’s life miserable. At least with Charlotte, you get my tactics and her need for more ‘pro-active’ approach.”



  1. Oh my! Who was responsible for making sure this reporter failed to read the memo regarding appropriate use of “nigga” versus “nigger”? More the pity, I do hope they find someone more competent and if they MUST act as foolishly green as him then the requirements are to strictly solely accept virgin females between the ages of eighteen and thirty. Why why am I not a technical writer…

  2. Physical activity can provide an outlet for your emotions, especially if you’re about to erupt. If you feel your anger escalating, go for a brisk walk or run, or spend some time doing other favorite physical activities. Physical activity stimulates various brain chemicals that can leave you feeling happier and more relaxed than you were before you worked out. `

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