My Friend, The Ghost Of Aunt Jemima

May 24, 2020 Diary entry: I actually talked to the ghost of Aunt Jemima quite frequently back in the late 60’s and early 70’s, did you know she could solve complicated math problems in her head without a pencil or anything, she invented several household kitchen items and she won some amateur beauty contests in her youth, that was before she got the pancake mix job, there was a clause written in her contract that said she could have all the pancakes she could eat free, and she began putting on weight which ended her modeling career, anyway, she told me about her friend Uncle Ben; back when the government was looking for some one to put on their “I Want You” poster, it came down to two choices, Uncle Sam and Uncle Ben, when the government picked the old white guy, Uncle Ben said “Screw you honkeys, I got a rice gig anyway”; after that bitter event, Uncle Ben became a ricist, he would no longer associate with the white rice, he preferred staying close to the brown rice he knew and loved, Uncle Ben was accused of ricism several times and he never fought the charges, well, after career successes and failures, Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben began to drink a lot down by the docks together; Otis Redding came along and wrote a biographical song about the two, called “Sittin’ On the Dock of the Bay”, “Feelin’ Fine”, I miss the world as it was so long ago, I met many wonderful people who were either famous or semi famous, usually about the time when the psilocybin mushroom was just kicking in, the world and it’s people seem so sterile and stale these days, people’s idea of fun anymore is eating from two different corn chip bags while they watch a rigged game on TV, and after two beers they start telling the same tired jokes you’ve heard a thousand times over the last fifty years, I liked it better when you looked around the room and your friends’ heads began looking like dead presidents and the ladies turned into those weird donkey-headed beasts with giant red lips and white tornado clouds coming out of their ears, and they made donkey sounds when you lit their cigarettes, god, where has the excitement gone, how did I ever wind up in such a dead crowd of people; if people were batteries, I’m afraid our collective flashlight would be worthless, if people were air freshener, we’d all have clothespins clipped to our noses, if people were the water of the sea, I’m afraid we’d all be crawling through dry sand, maybe this is what they mean when they talk about the “winter of your life”, if it is, then I’m freezing my ass off, this is Paulie, shalom…

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