Living with the Cohort: Anecdotal Evidence for Team Cancer to Use as an Amulet Against Charges of Being Too Decent

I am screencapturing this, because I am scared to death it will–POOF!–disappear and I want it to live on forever so that everyone will know how disgusting The Derp is.

The Derp has cancer. Yay! I am squarely on the side of Team Cancer.

I’m sharing the following story as a way to sort of reset, get a grip, let go of some of my anger and disgust, and just offer up an antidote to his hatefulness. It’s a small thing, but I had to get it off my chest.

I’ve lived in two different neighborhoods right outside of DC. The current place we’re living is right across the street from sort of Muslim center, so our neighborhood has a lot of, well, Muslims in it. Our last neighborhood was heavily populated with blacks and latinos. We’re military. I imagine a lot of the people living in our last neighborhood worked at the Pentagon.

I jog past these people, drive past them, walk past them, talk to them, live next to them. I’m going to say this, though I feel I shouldn’t have to: I didn’t exactly live “in the hood.” But a multi-culti neighborhood is a multi-culti neighborhood and while these are nice neighborhoods they are not wealthy neighborhoods. Hey, it’s hard to be wealthy in DC.

Anyhoo, long story short, lots and lots of blacks in my last neighborhood. Like, every other house. So I was jogging in one of the tonier areas of my neighborhood and there are two dogs in the front yard of this one house. They went after me like I was made out of ham. All I got was a tiny nip on the ankle. They weren’t large dogs, but they were large enough to put a scare in me. Scared, angry me stood in the middle of the street, kind of paralyzed, screaming for the home owners to get their fucking dogs. A large black man comes out of the house behind me. I snippily ask if these are his dogs. He patiently says “No.”  and proceeds to clear the way for me. The dogs are intimidated by his height and decidedly not-defensive posture. They slunk away. I offered an effusive “Thank you, Sir!”  and continued jogging home. I was shaken. But felt extraordinarily grateful for the nice, big, calm guy who came to my rescue. More big black guys for my neighborhood, please.

I apologize for the tense changes, but I felt they made for a better story. And sorry if it came off a little “Magical Negro”-ish. That’s not the aim of the story. The aim of the story is to show that I am living, breathing, proof that The Derp is full of shit. When was the last time this fuckface was even around a black person who doesn’t have Stockholm Syndrome?



9 thoughts on “Living with the Cohort: Anecdotal Evidence for Team Cancer to Use as an Amulet Against Charges of Being Too Decent

  1. It’s interesting to me that the National Review had to fire him.

    The N.R. was pro-segregation back in the day, after all.

    Also: The magazine’s online editor, Jonah Goldberg, tweeted that the article was “fundamentally indefensible and offensive”.

    Jonah is the definition of “fundamentally indefensible and offensive”.

  2. I had to stand in the middle of the street once, shouting for whoever owned the dog that would not let me pass to call it off. The owner was a big fat white redneck looking mo’fo.

    I’ve spent some time in neighborhoods where whites were the minority by far and wasn’t bothered at all, much less threatened. Being visibly scared and defensive can be indistinguishable from paranoia, and paranoia is dangerous.

    Read recently that there were studies done on perception in which people who had guns were more likely to “see” guns on others. Thought of Zimmerman when I read that. Armed people “policing” their neighborhoods out of fear of burglary is a recipe for trouble and tragedy. Derby writing that trash as a response to the murder of Treyvon Martin is worthy of cancer.

    Is every election year going to be crazier than the last from now on?

  3. Nice post VS. Whilst at university and needing money for beer and such, I worked in what we call a freezing works, a place of animal slaughter and butchery. Not pretty, not nice but quite a traditional thing for university chaps to do. Anyways freezing works have a high proportion of Maori working in them and often I was in the minority. It never was much of a worry after I overheard two Maori guys bitching about their mortgages and I realised that we all lived in the same system and had stuff in common. In 5 years I spent 52 weeks working there and got called “Honky” once when the rest of the guys turned on the insulter and told him to “Fuck up, AK’s one of us”. I glowed.
    These guys were the best card players and could tell you what card you were going to play, they humoured me for a while but then wouldn’t let me play. There were some arseholes there and some decent guys, some druggies and thieves. It was like being at university except the pay was better.
    The thing was, they were just people.
    I was so fucking glad to be out of the place the last time that I almost cried, how the fuck they could stand it for years and years is beyond me.

  4. Ï worked in the Hunts Point section of the South Bronx (one of the roughest neighborhoods in the country) for years, and the majority of my co-workers were of black and Latino descent. We got along really well. If you’re not an asshole, people will generally treat you as if you, well, weren’t an asshole.

    This is not to say that everything was peachy keen- the first time I set foot in the building was to try to locate some local asshole who was taking potshots at staff during midnight shift change with a pellet gun from an adjacent building. The majority of the people in the neighborhood were just trying to get by, though.

  5. we have a black guy who works at the grocery store…i don’t have a whole lot of multi-culti experience…just common sense and a sense of commonality…i mean wtf? i’m going to be just as scared if some big white dude jumps out in front of me in a dark alleyway as i would a big black dude…or asian dude or wev…

    that’s why i like hanging out with the sadlynauts…no racism…like colbert we don’t see color…

    we do have indian casinos, however…so there’s that…and of course my alma mater is very multi…but of course the homophobic homegony just thinks it’s gay…

  6. You know, this whole Derb thing, given that no one at NR seemed to mind his creepy comments about women, despite the fact that he made them a LOT, reminds of a trick Courtney Love used to pull at concerts.

    She’s exhort her audience to yell “SLUT!”






    Then she’d say, “Now yell N-WORD!”

    And the audience would fall silent. I always thought that was kinda interesting.

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