Man, get this: two black guys and a Mexican walk into a bar…

One orders a Budweiser. The other a Bud Light. “Cerveza?”
“Claro que si. Un Miller Light, por favor.”

“Danke.” “Bitte.”(The two black guys are German.)
The Mexican is a Rhodes Scholar. So what?

Are the black guys Nazis because they speak Deutsch?
Is the Mexican going to mop up the place?

What’s running through your mind right now? Why are they
in a bar? Where are they? Let’s say … New York. Why?

Why the hell not? It’s New York. More forward, like
the Germans did when they befriended Javi,

the new guy in their little group: cautiously,
not the way the goddamned did Nazis back in

the days of the… Oh God. Blitzkrieg Bop just
came on in the bar and these three el-seven

weenies are trying to dance. They’re terrible.
Hans can’t keep rhythm, which is weird, because … well.

I mean … what’s a good stereotype called? Who
cares? Klaus is an amputee with one left foot.

He hops like a bunny. It’s funny, yes, but
in no way, shape or form can this man dance.

Javi is the worst of the three. He’s so stiff
he makes Elaine Benes look like Natalie

Portman, and even I don’t know what that means.
Someone does, though. They say you just write for one

person, but I think they’re lying. If there was
one person who walked up and said, “This means this,”

and they were 100 percent on the up
and up? I might lose my cotton-pickin’ mind.

Did I mention I’ve been to Mississippi?
Hazelhurst is a fine town. They play sports there

these days. It’s right there on the sign when you ent-
-er town. They’ve won state championships. So what?

Robert Johnson was born there. The Crossroads
Legend in the flesh. He learned from Ike Zimmer…


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