When I’m President Part 2 (We’ll Have One More Country That Hates US)

While eating our meals from what’s effectively a mobile soup kitchen yesterday, my buddy Dan and I had this conversation:

“Hey Brian, did you notice how the new van spells out Baltimore Urban Ministries?”

“Yeah, I pointed that out to Computer Dan.”

“So they’re subtly calling us bums?”

“Hey, if the cardboard box fits—“

“Live in it.”

“Right.  And speaking of the van, could you do me a comedic favor?”

“Probably not, but go ahead.”

“”It says ‘Good Spoon’ to the right of the acronymized ‘BUM,’ so I want you to go up to one of the Koreans [that run the service], and—“

“And say, ‘That’s what she said,’ because you’ve maxed out your lifetime allotment?”

“Exactly!  Strong the smart-ass is in this one.”  (My Yoda impression ain’t too shabby.)

“No, I just know you too well.  Unfortunately.”

“There’s, like, a 1% chance they’ll get the joke.”

“And within that 1%, a 95% chance I’d get slapped.”

“Dude, they’re Asian.  I’m sure they know some kind of martial art and can surely do better than a slap.”

“Next  week they’ll say, ‘We set aside this plate just for you’.”

“Who knows, though?  They might go,” I began jumping, clapping my hands excitedly, and this time affected a stereotypical Asian accent, ‘Oh, we love The Office!  Steve Cawell big hewo in South Kowea!  When North say, “We going to swallow your countwy and its missiles,” We just like, “That what she says”!’”

“That may have been the last straw that sends you to racist hell.”

Once more with the accent, “That what you say.”


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