What's that Coming from My Mouth? Froth. It Just Does that Sometimes. Think of it as “Perfect Freedom Froth” and Leave It Alone

Drunken Negro Cookies: This is me not being offended. See? Not. Offended. Prior to Tuesday's inauguration, I probably would have been in an absolutely, bet-your-fucking-ass sort of way. But that ain't me no more.

That person has no place in the new post-racial America, so the new me is just singing praises and getting on with his life, enjoying the sunshine and being warmed by the love of my fellow man. Life is so good. (I can see why y'all kept this from us for so long.)

Question: Is perfect equality suppose to taste like bile? Because I'm tasting bile. Okay, now, I'm tasting frustration with undertones of recriminations. (And is that boysenberry? Where'd that come from?) Oh, that's normal? Good. You know, when I dreamed about it as a kid, I always dreamed equality would taste like chicken.