Ethnic Power Politics

My nephew Jamal is a hotheaded young buck. Acts crazy, talks crazy. Last week he was on a rant about how happy he was that eight years of B.O. (the 'Big Oriole' he says) in the White House would soon be over. OK, I try to avoid politics, although sometimes it finds me ... Just for the hell of it I sometimes like to get Jamal's goat: I tell him how much I admire Faulkner's literary skills, and wait for him to explode in a Black Power fireworks display. (Truth be told, old Bill understood a shit load more about being black than Eldridge Cleaver ever did ...)

So I was kind of pleased when I ran into Jamal in the park with a fine new girl. Melody Marie Mason. (Names have been changed to protect the guilty, but the alias captures her attitude perfectly.)

Melody was a 19 year old college student living in Reston with her parents. Second generation American from her Vietnamese mother, third generation American from her Chinese father; Melody herself, as the name she preferred to use suggests, was as all-American as Hawaiian pizza. If she knew anything about any Asian culture, it was probably as a result of a wiki search for a middle school class project. Physically, American nutrition and health care had worked with her hybrid ancestry to produce one fine piece of ass. About 5'6" tall she had real curves,- not the immature, starved body so many Asian girls have. She liked to wear hip-hugging jeans and short tops that revealed a nice belly with just a hint of curve. Her complexion was light tan and just flawless. Her eyes were a liquid brown that caught the light and always seemed to be laughing. Her full shoulder length black hair gleamed: pleasant to imagine Melody in her jammies sitting in front of a bedroom mirror doing her 100 nightly brush strokes.

I was expecting Jamal to have gotten Melody through her initiation into the sorority of nigger loving girls in record time.

But no, instead of being the big, black stud, she had cowed Jamal into being a comical caricature of a big black stud. You could see it in her eyes, hear it in her laugh, "I'm smarter than you, and I am going to have some fun baiting you. I bet you do want some candy, big boy, don't you?" The bitter irony was lost on Jamal: after 300 years in America he wasn't allowed the option of easy assimilation that Melody had chosen. She was securely in the class that had power.

Later that day I got Jamal by himself and told him straight out that Melody was mine, and he could just wait and see if he might get leftovers. I needed to fix this fucked-up situation. Jamal yelled, scuffled a bit, but finally acquiesced to my demands. Then I went to work on my plan.

Jamal informed Melody that his uncle Shawn had a part time job opportunity that she shouldn't pass up. Melody had no classes on Friday, and the job would pay $200 for a morning's work; plus, it would look good on her resume.

Education is big business in America, and I have several businesses in that sector. Legitimate you ask? What a question! Public universities charging college tuition for warmed-over high school courses, and that ain't theft?

There were thousands of anxious Asian parents in Northern Virginia and DC willing to pay through the nose to make sure their children got into a good college, and why shouldn't I take their money as well as anybody?

What a load of crap that 'brainy Asian student' stereotype is: I had lectured on 'Intermediate Algebra' to hundreds of glassy eyed, lazy, clueless Asian kids at the local junior college. If they do have some real talent, still they would graduate with a degree in mathematics, statistics, computer science and then just end up a spreadsheet monkey caged in a cubicle. Good old Mom and Dad fine with that as long as the boss feeds the monkey ...So this was a profitable niche market, and I don't look too hard at what the staff at the Agency does to 'help' deserving chinks get their ass into a college classroom seat.

Heading the Agency staff was an essential ally. Hayli was a former junior high school English teacher from Texas with a penchant for big black bulls who forgot their manners badly and didn't say please and thank you. I met her on-line, had some fine rough play with her, and eventually convinced her to say goodbye to teaching whiny private school adolescents, come work for me and make some real money. She eventually married a white accountant, had two kids, bought a house with a white picket fence, baked homemade apple pies, and somewhat sadly confined her darker interests to having on-line exchanges with anonymous niggers who were not all nice to her. Once in a great while I still checked in with her myself, and she would confess how empty her love hole felt, how much she needed my thick fourteen inch pole to fill her up ...At 35 her lovely 36C tits had started to sag a bit, but she still had great legs, great ass, thick strawberry blonde hair, and a fashion model face ...'Miss Hayli' could still gin up a Southern accent, and could still captivate men ... and women ... with her voice, her looks, and her intelligence.

Melody interviewed for the part-time job with Hayli, - and it was a breeze - Who knew a job interview could be so much fun, or that your future boss would be such a cool person! ... Kind of like a younger aunt, really.

Making copies, updating spreadsheets, answering the phone ...the usual office shit, - sure there was enough of that. But there were also long lunches with Hayli, who shared secrets from her own youth, laughed at her jokes, and took Melody's career plans seriously, - not as some phenomenally egotistical head-trip, as her parents looked at it. Hayli and Melody went shopping together at the local outlet mall. One morning Melody found that designer handbag she had wanted so much sitting on her desk with a card that read simply, "Thanks for Being You. - H." So much of a successful business strategy is timing ...Only after several weeks did the lunch time conversations begin to be more intimate, to hint at the joys and excitement of sexual experimentation remembered from Hayli's college days. Hayli had worked up to it with the genius that had always amazed me: at just the right moment Hayli put her hand on top of Melody's hand as they sat at the bistro table, confessing that she felt she could confide anything to Melody safely. Hayli declared that Melody was indeed young and beautiful, and yet she was so insightful and so intelligent and understood the varieties of human emotion... and desire ...so deeply. And so, of course, Hayli felt secure in telling her that, well, (squeeze of her hand on Melody's ) after being with Melody these past weeks, she felt that ...

Really roll on the floor comical, huh? But it worked ...and the door was open ...