DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT IT

I’m sitting at Physical Therapy with my shoulder iced. Next to me sits a man, his shoulder is iced too. He has on an NRA hat. He’s playing with his phone to pass the time.

He hands me his phone and says “Take a look at that!”

It’s a picture of an F-4 Phantom, a workhorse of a fighter plane that’s been around since the Vietnam War.

“Oh, that’s nice” I say, and hand his phone back.

He explains to me how he used to do maintenance on them.

“Were you in Vietnam?” I ask.

“No, I enlisted just after.”

He proceeds to hand me the phone several more times, more images of fighter planes.

One is an F-15.

“Those can accelerate in a vertical climb” he explains.

“Incredible!” I say.

He hands me the phone again. This time it’s a picture of a motorcycle, with a leather holster across the gas tank and a pair of six-shooter pistols hanging on each side, a row of bullets in between. On the back there is a big leather scabbard with a sawed off 12 gauge in it.

“What do you think of that?” he asks.

I think a moment.

‘You probably would need something like that in Arizona” I say. I figure that’s fairly benign and a diplomatic approach to answer his question.

“Shoot, you need it around here these days” he tells me.

Now, I’ve lived “around here” most all my life, and never once had to blast my way out of Mexican Inn. Every now and then you hear about someone getting shot or stabbed by their girlfriend, I guess there have been a few instances of armed robbers at the Subway sandwich shop, and then that Mr. M’s over on Pipeline, some thugs a few years back came in and shot the poor clerk execution style. And I think a few weeks ago, someone tried to steal a ladies purse and a good Samaritan came along and got the perps at gunpoint and made them lay down in the parking lot until the cops arrived. That ended well, but it may not have been so smooth and easy if the perps had been armed themselves.

But it is a cool looking bike, and the leather work is good, and the six-shooters very shiny with Ivory grips.

“Is that yours” I ask?

“No, I found it online on one of my Second Amendment forums.”

“Pretty cool” I say, and hand his phone back.

He starts back to fingerpokin’ and buttonmashin’ again, and hands me back the phone. This time its text, in big red letters.

It says:

“The one card you never want to leave home without.

 Its all you need when you are out of everything else.

Its your own personal RACE CARD!
I sure love my Race Card!

It comes in handy whenever I find myself in a mess I've made.

I just bring it out and 'voila', the mess is overlooked.

In fact, there's no limit on how many times I can use it!

I highly recommend the Race Card.

Don't leave home without it." 

 BHO

Then there is a picture of the President.

I don’t know if I was supposed to laugh, haha,  or nod an acknowledgement, give the secret handshake, or punch him in the mouth.

I don’t know if I’m supposed to think the meme is proof of not being a racist, or just a real dislike for the president.

I don’t know if its something a racist might carry around to show people, or if its just a mean man that has nothing better to do.
I don't know if I would recognize it if the president were to play the race card, maybe only because I like the president.

I don’t know if its like poker, and an “anti-race card” card beats a “race card”.

So I did my best at just not reacting at all. I’m almost ashamed of that, except I’ve noticed one thing for sure.

Talking about racism is like eating spinach. You just can’t hardly do it without getting some stuck between your teeth.