Kudos To Google For Non Woke Pixel 6 Commercial

Reset To Zero

I got a beer when I was at the Shell, getting kratom this afternoon.

Out of the blue, without too much thinking, except for the fact that I had made the 39 bucks the night before; and that the batteries for the portable amp were a lot cheaper than the 10 bucks I figured they would be.

They last about 3 hours in the amp, for a total of $2.17.

I sort of knew better than to ruin the 24 days sober. 

I guess I had forgotten why drinking had become so much of a pain in the butt that I purposely spent the remainder of my money on the night that I purposed to quit, and that I would use a juice fast, into a water fast to give me ten times my normal will power.

But, the beer tasted like beer did the first time I ever drank it. That would have been as an 11 year old, and would have been stealthily sipped out of my best friend's father's mug of it, which would have been left unattended on one of the steps of a ladder that he was using to scrape paint off the side of my best friend's house.

Dave's father would pour his Shlitz out of the can and into a thick, glass mug, which would not only keep it a lot colder than in the can, but would allow a head to foam up, which releases an aromatic component which is crucial to enjoying the full flavor of beer. They say that, when your nose is stuffed up so that you can't smell anything, it makes it so you can't taste anything either.

I suppose that's right; I just held my nose shut and took a sip off my coffee and I guess I couldn't taste it...

But, last night's beer reminded me of why I quit, for 24 days, and now 1 again.

It made me cantankerous and prone to abandon my adherence to The Law of Attraction, and to dwell upon the things that I didn't want, namely skeezers. And it made me stop for another 24 ounce can on the way to the Lilly Pad.

I was playing alright, and enjoying it, but the darkness was creeping in, like shadows when the sun is about to set, and, after I had made only about 10 bucks, I decided that I just didn't want to play any more. Right about that time, the street was starting to fill up with people, with probably a hundred within my vicinity. Who knows how much money I could have made, but, with the second can of beer finished, and only about a half hour of playing in, I just packed up and left.

As I was doing so, a tourist, seeing the sea of bodies coming down the street actually said: "He's leaving now?"

The best I can do to make sense out of it was that the alcohol had turned me into kind of a jerk, which included being a jerk to myself. I was taking myself out of a situation where I could have made enough to live comfortably for the rest of the week, telling myself that I had kratom and a nicotine vape and a can of food for Harold, as I ran for the shelter of my apartment, where a hot bath and YouTube waited for me.

And, of course, I would get fourth beer while picking up another can of food for Harold at the CVS, looking askance at all the skeezers I passed along the way there. In case it seems that I leapfrogged from the second to the fourth beer, that's because I stopped at the Unique Grocery, to see if they happened to sell cat food, even though I was 99% sure that they didn't and grabbed a beer while in there; for the walk to the CVS, I supposed.

And, true to the laws of The Law, it became a night of skeezers. Because I was focusing hatred upon them; I was attracting them like I was a skeezer magnet.

There was a loud, drunk heavyset black lady that was griping about something at the top of her voice.

"Damn, imagine living with that, and having to hear that every day and night?!" I asked the nearest person to me at the beer cooler...

Then, to a middle aged white guy, whose uncertainty when looking around the store, as if he was wondering which of the 3 registers he should go to, and the way he just deferred to the loud black lady after she brusquely cut in front of him and then started demanding certain scratch tickets of the cashier, painted him as definitely a tourist. He had kind of shrugged his shoulders as if he was thinking: I guess that's the custom down here, you just cut in front of people, every man for himself...

The Ethiopian staff in there are like the guy from Ghana that I worked for in Charlottesville, back in the early 2000's. While having brown skin, these guy's who came here from Africa harbored the same disdain for the same skin-toned, yet damaged culture of the African American.

"I can't stand these n****rs," said my manager, Modou, from Ghana, as if feeling more of a rapport with me than with those that happened to have the same skin color as he. "They think everything is owned by the white man, and it's OK to steal everything, and that's not right!" said Modou, as that was his name.

He was shrewd enough in the business sense, after having taken over, a gas station that had been hemorrhaging money to the tune of around $2,200 a month, as manager, and tasked with remedying the situation.

His approach was to fire the all African American staff and replace them with white workers. This plugged the biggest breach in the dike, as, I never stole from the business, and neither did another white lady named Brenda, who was married to a black man and felt that, as such, she was under intense scrutiny by white community members who would have been quick to judge her as having been corrupted by her husband, had she ever have been caught stealing.

Race relations in Charlottesville in the early 2000's are beyond the scope of this post, but it was easy for me to read between the lines and figure out what happened years later with the protesters and counter protesters and Trump saying that there were "good people on both sides."

Modou came from a very morally strict country in "The Ghana," as he called it. He told me a story about 2 homosexuals that ran a certain restaurant, and were espied by one of the patrons, who, unbeknownst to them could see a reflection of them off a glass door or something, kissing each other in the kitchen area; well, on the lips, but while standing in the kitchen area...

The news spread to all twenty or so customers in the seating area, who all, as if on cue, put their utensils and glasses down without taking another bite of food that they now deemed tainted. The 2 gay guys found an empty restaurant when they emerged from the kitchen area.

Soon, the authorities entered and arrested the 2 of them, bringing them out into the street where they were both summarily executed by gunshots to their heads.

So, it seemed almost ordained that, after replacing the staff at the gas station with an all white crew, and finding that, while not having nearly the problem of losing $2,200 a month, there was still the problem of someone stealing smaller amounts and it turned out to be Rene, who was a flabbily fat lesbian who worked there.

She devised a way to steal around 50 bucks every night; and do it in such a way that whomever worked the shift after her got blamed. 

She would victimize new employees. Several of them never became old employees, due to Rene's machinations that made their money come up short every night (that they worked the shift after Rene's). Most of them just quit rather than be accused of being a thief. That would be White Pride in action.     

But, I guess my point is that the Ethiopians at The Unique Grocery harbor Ethiopian Superiority over the African Americans whom they encountered upon arriving in this country. 

An older black guy approached me in CVS, asking for "a few dollars, so I can get me something to eat.." and then, after giving me a spiel that sounded like a well rehearsed and oft rehashed line; he paused, and then asked: "Well, what do you think?"

"You don't want to know what I'm thinking," I said, and then just ignored him until he spotted another potential victim, and went off to skeeze her.

I became full of hatred for almost all the street people I saw; deeming them to be skeezers; without having any evidence.

I found reasons to hate them; and was prepared to be begged by them; before they even spoke to me. It was the alcohol talking, I realized, because I hadn't had those kind of thoughts over the 24 days that I had quit.

Anyway, I didn't feel like playing after I had made a few bucks; I just left when it was so busy I had to push my way through the people just to get out of there...

And it reminded me why I quit drinking 24 days prior. It makes me over critical of the black people down here, among other things...

The Verdict Reveals: There Still Exists A Sub Class Of The Unwoke

I was happy to see a commercial for a Google Pixel 6 that depicted a small black boy enjoying his Pixel 6 and then showed that he had 2 parents in the house, who weren't a mixed couple, or a couple of gay guys or lesbians. There was even shown an elderly black man wearing a beard that said: grandfather. 

Wow, Google has finally figured out that woke people aren't likely to be able to afford the Pixel 6.

The "Doctor Huxtable" nuclear family role model might be making a comeback...It was starting to get irritating, how many recent commercials doubled as woke virtue signals. Like every product was designed for freaks who would be dragged into the streets and shot if this were the Ghana; but who are a privileged class in this bastion of freedom of a country.

I'll bet that Google had 2 different commercials ready to go for the Pixel 6, dependent upon the outcome of the Rittenhouse case, to run during Sunday Night Football. The sane commercial, and the woke one.

They ran the one that is targeted towards the people who can actually afford the Pixel 6, rather than at the inner city driftwood blacks who can't even afford school books, never mind Pixel 6's.

Good job, Google!

Now just don't censure this post...