Last Tuesday I worked security detail at the R Kelly concert downtown. Mad loco baby! I know my manager told me to keep my (steel-gray) eyes on potential security problems, but the ladies were out in swarm and a man is only a man. And I’m a man. Know what I mean? So, R Kelly comes out in a blaze and all these scantily clad chicas start screaming, tragic screams or catastrophic screams, the screams of a dying or horny eagle, a dying and horny American eagle, and as I asked a small assembly of chicas to stop dry humping the railing so they wouldn’t fall over, I got to thinking, “Jewdor, this is what America is all about. America is a place, no, it’s a concept and that concept is an Idea and that Idea is a Vision, the Ultimate Vision, of freedom and liberty and virtue and black presidents and R&B and chicas dry humping things and immigrants and parties, the type of parties that reach into the Stygian night and even deeper into your soul, the type of parties that seem to be endless, as if they were parties that had started at the dawn of humanity 150,000 years ago on a now ravaged and deserted exotic African beach, the type of parties where you meet and sleep with scantily clad women who scream like dying, horny American eagles. That’s America! And that’s why my father and eight month pregnant mother snuck over the border years and years ago. So his son, his only son, could partake in this Ultimate Vision!” So, by the time R Kelly said it, I didn’t even need to be convinced. I knew this country was for me.
All you ladies out there! MAKE SOME NOISE!
And man, did they ever!
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