This story doesn’t involve music.
Nor is it distinctly “Austin”.
But it illustrates a point that I’ve been trying to explain for quite some time now.
A couple hours ago, I found myself at a local smoothie shop, waiting to pick up an order that I had placed for my girlfriend because she’s at work all day and won’t have the time to leave to eat anything. Yes, I know. My “Best Boyfriend in the World” award is being Fed-Exed as we speak.
Anyway, as I had been walking in, I noticed another young, Caucasian male heading out. But after I had placed my order, he came back in, and spent a few seconds milling about, looking concerned.
And then he spoke thus, “I’m sorry. It just tastes… powdery.”
At this point, my jaw instantly clenched. Because I’ve seen this happen more times than I care to remember: an entitled bourgeoisie gumming up the works because their product that they just spent a hard-earned $6 on didn’t quite meet their expectations.
The clerk didn’t even flinch. “I’m sorry, sir. Let me remake that for you.”
And in record time, the plaintiff had a replacement in his hand. After a sip or two, he remarked disdainfully, “It was supposed to have lime in it.” Which he said in between more sips.
Again, the cashier offered to fix his order, but the offended party couldn’t be bothered by another minor indiscretion that would have taken roughly 20 seconds to remedy. He was “sorry”. He had “somewhere to be”.
But he wanted a full refund… Which was granted, even though he was keeping the offending beverage. And so he left. Thankfully before I sprouted a third limb out of my anus and strangled him with my new “shit arm”.
And this is always the way it is. There’s nothing particularly wrong here. You pay for something like this, don’t expect a filet mignon from Ruth’s Chris. It’s a goddamned smoothie.
But money clearly wasn’t even the issue, as evidenced by the young man’s clean cut appearance and two full sleeves of tattoo work. It was simply the complete lack of “Oh, well.” And I’m not saying that you should let the outside forces of the world walk all over you, but… for fuck’s sake!
I just happened to witness the byproduct of another spoiled brat let loose upon the world with a list of requirements, and woe be unto they who do not reach said standards. In other words, this was some white-ass, cracker-ass shit.
And this speaks beyond race. My girlfriend has told me several times, whether I’m listening to a commercial on the radio, or I’m watching a trailer for a romantic comedy at the movies, and she catches me twisting in my seat growling about how, “I fucking hate white people.”; she rarely misses the opportunity to point out my obvious dermatological pigmentation.
But what I mean is, regardless of your skin color, we are slowly but surely working our way to a future where race will no longer be an issue. And in the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.” You know, that line that light and dark people like to espouse so much? Except when it runs contrary to their behavioral practices? Well, guess what? If you act like this peckerwood, it doesn’t matter if you’re fresh off the boat from Cote D’Ivoire…
You are the New White.
Because in a world where race becomes less and less problematic, it is only your false sense of entitlement that is going to make you stand out as a would-be oppressor.
I know I might have let this get to me a little too much, but on behalf of all reasonable-people-who-just-happen-to-be-white-skinned everywhere, I’m not apologizing for this wretched little fuck’s behavior, but I just want you all to know that we’re not all like this.
But you already know that. You’re smart.
You read my blog, after all.