On my way from the store, this morning, I almost got hit by a truck. And that was fine, but I noticed it had a bumper sticker of the Confederate flag, and that’s not the Portland I know and love. The Portland I know and love has always been a safe haven for free and progressive thinkers who embrace people of every ethnicity, nationality, and creed regardless of sex, gender, or orientation – as long as they live across a bridge.
But I’ve given it some thought, and maybe that guy’s not racist, at all. Maybe he just got a real good deal on a racist truck. Isn’t that possible?
Like you go to a dealership, and there’s a perfectly good Subaru from the late ’80s; it runs real good, but it’s still a little spendy given all the holes and dents in the framework, and the fact that it’s all fucked up on the inside. But right next to it, you have this shiny, new truck – like nothing you’ve ever seen before – for $1000 less, with a KKK decal. Well, what do you do?
It seems clear to me, you buy the truck and some white sheets; your hands are tied. I mean, ideals are good and all, but you can’t beat a good deal.
(listen at bit.ly/yffl-foreal)