This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
It was a Klan meeting night, which meant a late evening drinking copiously while plotting against “the forces of mongrelization of Aryan civilization”. Jeb enjoyed hearing the Grand Cyclops read those “mighty fine big words,” but didn‟t quite know what to make of them. Nor did it help matters that the mere utterance of polysyllabic words subconsciously compelled him to drink even more than usual. Now, finally in his personal cocoon of segregation, and free from the struggle of grappling with the meaning of such rhetoric, he swayed momentarily as if undulating with the resonating futility of a dying star once studied by some long extinct sentient breed. After recovering a miniscule semblance of bearings, Jeb slammed the door, doffed hood, hung it next to a six foot portrait of Hitler at Munich, swam out from beneath the rest of “official” robes, let them crumple onto the dirt floor where cockroaches scattered, and crashed his bloated bulk down into a filthy, rickety, food-stained chair. Jeb‟s drunken commotion sent dust clouds billowing in all directions, which induced a hacking cough in the rustic lasting several moments. After expelling a quart of phlegm laced with dust motes, Crackerwhip settled down enough to luxuriate within the only limpid memory left on the horizon of his swimming consciousness; that of being nude beneath his robes while fellowshipping with brother Klansmen. Savory memory notwithstanding, he was ultimately forced to admit it felt even more liberating to be rid of those garments entirely while in the comfort of his own decrepit shack. Suddenly it occurred to the demented hillbilly that he hadn‟t had a drop of booze in over half an hour! This represented an unacceptable affront to his sensibilities, and so after a few minutes of flailing around in every direction imaginable from the relative stability of his chair, Jeb found one of the auxiliary stashes: a half empty bottle of moonshine from the backyard still. It was hidden behind his collection of Playgirl back issues, which Jeb had painstakingly cleansed of minorities via scissors. In one stunningly competent and smoothly deft motion under the circumstances, he “killed „er off,” licked lips cracked beyond repair like a mangy cur lapping up antifreeze, and reached for the remote control. Jeb‟s fish tank mind, rotting in a stew of neo-Nazi lingo mixed with imagery inspired by movies based on graphic novels, took a few minutes of fumbling refamiliarization. “Gamneddod newfangled rice-a-roni shee-it!” With that besotted imprecatory epithet, and others which shall pass unmentioned, the Klansman eventually managed to turn the television on. Jeb Crackerwhip was not in the slightest bit prepared for the revolutionary revelation that zoomed passed his red watery eyeballs and directly into whatever was left of his festering cerebral cortex: “….News 6 is broadcasting live from one of the demonstrations. The shooting of Trayvon Martin has sparked a movement of anti-racist solidarity. As you
and noticed several white ones in the mix. The portrait was ripped to ribbons by shattered glass and consumed by an army of ravenous roaches. A crowd of Caucasian bigots in Dallas stopped beating two Hispanic transvestites in front of an electronics store. these demonstrators are all wearing hoodies. They asked puzzled passersby where the nearest hoodies might be obtained. the universal truth of it all snapped . a feat of multitasking the old Crackerwhip would have been wholly incapable of. his conscience was cauterized with a blinding achromatic light of such volcanic intensity that it induced a tectonic spasm inside his core. Meanwhile. where television sets glittered with hoodies. just like the one worn by the slain 17 year old. Many bear signs saying „I am Trayvon Martin. Had a close-up of this episode been filmed. and that some wore white ones. who hitherto only called wanting more money. his face turned into a roiling mass of pudding. The transformatively spastic fit culminated with his body lunging backward against the chair. An Aryan Nations rally in Coeur d‟Alene ended abruptly when all its participants fell down unconscious in concentric circles around a TV set. Jeb regained consciousness when his cell phone‟s Königgrätzer Marsch ringtone began blaring and buzzing. which in turn hurled him against the wall.' which is reminiscent of the „I am Spartacus‟ of movie fame.” Jeb hated hoodies with a pathological intensity almost equal to that of the raging racism burning within his inmost self. Similarly transcendent deontological coruscations were rippling throughout the world of organized racism. Silver rivulets of tears began streaming down his face. it happened to all of us. ancient Nazis near Buenos Aires gingerly stumbled out of the brush looking disheveled. who only left Jeb„s lifeless wreck alone because of the debilitatingly repelling stench. but with an eager light in their eyes and newfound benevolence in their hearts. Did you see those heroic crowds wearing hoodies. but this time was entirely different: "Jeb? Jeb?! Hello! Are you alright? Don‟t worry. There‟s no doubt about it: this movement is throwing down the gauntlet against racism in unmistakable terms…. Thus. It was the Klabee. thereby both knocking Jeb totally unconscious and the Hitler portrait onto the ground. “When I saw all those beautiful people in hoodies.can see at home and back at the studio. and his spine began bucking uncontrollably. Yet when he saw the peppy crowd on TV donning them together. and whilst pondering cockroach trails on the floor at close range. Suddenly. those observing it later would have every reason to believe he was riding a 20 G centrifuge at the time. the fevered racism of Jeb Crackerwhip was extinguished in an instant of violent revelation. Hours later. Jeb?!" "THIS changes everything!" intoned Jeb in reply.
“We are the children…” Unfortunately. Mogadishu. Meet us at the Klavern in half an hour!” “You betcha. Pristina . The Global Hoodie War had begun. they were both too overjoyed by having sloughed off racism for such a pedestrian consideration. Tel Aviv. Mexico City. the celebrants all burned giant effigies of test patterns while singing together. the Gaza Strip.” “Ciao.” “Fabulous! Toodles. I realized that the hoods of we Klansmen are not entirely dissimilar to their hoodies. An unprecedented global celebration ensued. Not a single soul harbored hatred in their heart on the basis of race. this global harmony lasted only until fights over differences in hoodies and styles of wearing them began to break out. Klabee! In fact. Walla Walla. Moscow. I„m no longer full of hatred for minorities or hoodies. you marvelous Klabee!” Neither Klabee nor Jeb noticed the obvious alteration in their speech patterns. McMurdo Sound. Massive crowds wearing hoodies and seething with the beneficence of colorblind unity celebrated a new world with an old anthem: "We are the world…" To fitly symbolize a world finally shorn of racism. In Times Square. Cheerful pillars of smoke rose high into the fresh air of deliverance in every populated area of the globe. we„re all going to take a ride with the Grand Cyclops to Wal-Mart and get hold of as many hoodies as possible! Then we„re going to revise the bylaws. Jeb.my mind into attention.the story and scene were the same everywhere. . Epilogue What began with a single bloodied hoodie blossomed forth with an unstoppably furious momentum. Racism was finally and truly dead. São Paulo. forever transforming the entire planet. Jeb! Listen. I‟ll be there in ten minutes. dear Klabee!” "I know exactly what you mean. Kabul. London.
This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
We've moved you to where you read on your other device.
Get the full title to continue reading from where you left off, or restart the preview.