was having dinner with my mother and her dopey friend
Bob. I was telling a story of how I pretended I
was a Jew so my Jew boss would give me that raise
I wanted. And before you could say oy gevalt!,
I got the raise. Bob laughed at my story and said,
"You Da Man!"
thought to myself, what a stupid thing to say.
"You Da Man!" Isn't that like a 1996 expression
from the black community? Do people still say that?
That is, other than dopey old guys who heard it
on the WB? Wasn't "The Man" the Evil White Oppressor
who's been keeping us down? Wouldn't that be like
an insult then? Is it?
it got me thinking of exactly who "The Man" was.
are a few simple criteria:
He must have no striking physical abnormalities,
no disabilities like an unusually high voice or
realized right then that I am "The Man." A proud
son of the Global White Oligarchic System. I am
the Lost Freemason, the Inheritor of the Earth.
was a young white male who'd realized that the rules
no longer applied to me. No longer was I the object
of ridicule by my TB-carrying colleagues who don't
approve of my polo shirts and pleated khaki Dockers.
What I lacked in soul, I more than made up for in
my newfound unlimited power to oppress.
are your bosses, lawyers, judges, cops. We are authority.
We run the schools that tell your children what
to think. We make the rules that control your life
and change them as we see fit. We can rub our poop
in your hair, and you can't do a damn thing about
that I accept the fact that I'm "The Man," I revel
in it. I smoke big fat cigars and wear a top hat
in my hot tub with a snifter of cognac in one hand
while cutting crisp lines of cocaine with the other
as your sister gives me a blow job under 108-degree
you can't tell, I like being "The Man." I like that
I can drink and drive and kill a pedestrian and
know I can get away with it because I golf with
two circuit-court judges and the city district attorney.
I like that I can pick out a girl I see in a music
video, call her agent, and be sticking chili peppers
in her ass within two hours. I like that I see homeless
guys fighting over a McDumpster burger rind and
I'll decide to feed my dogs porterhouse steak that
Black History Month, Breast Cancer Awareness Week,
Gay Pride Parades, Jewish History Week, Puerto Rican
Pride Day...you know that if there were like a White
Pride parade, that people would riot," said my pal
Steve the other day.
easy, Steve," I said coolly. "We don't need a parade.
Every day is White Guy's Day."
we've got it easy, but some sad sacks need to be
shown the light. Case
go into the local Arby's and see one of my melanin-deficient
brothers wasting his life slicing meat nine hours
a day, and I wanna slap him in the face. I wanna
yell at him, "Rise up and oppress your tormentors
a white male, it is his God-given right--nay, his
RESPONSIBILITY--to take advantage of the opportunities
afforded him by his heritage. I wanna take that
nametag-wearing slicer-jockey and put a white collar
and a necktie on him and watch the little bastard
claw his way up the corporate ladder and get the
keys to the executive toilet, look up at me and
say, "Thanks, Dave," only to stab me in the back
with those selfsame keys the second I let my guard
I'm talking about here, friends, is opportunity.
As "The Man," I have the world open to me--and let
me tell you, I don't just "take advantage" of it,
I rape that sweet bitch we call opportunity every
single day. I rape it as if it were the nine-year-old
Korean boy in your father's basement. I travel along
the life-maze gobbling up opportunity in a Pac-Manlike
fashion, leaving an empty trail of hopelessness
in my wake. I'll kill the golden goose because I
wanna use its beak to clean under my fingernails.
don't you ever feel guilty?"
that poor waitress got fired because of you," my
incredulous liberal coworker Greg answered back.
the contrary, Greg," I said, "If she hadn't been
fired, I'd have bought this crappy restaurant just
to fire the manager who didn't fire her."
you see, you jackass?" I shouted at him. "I saved
that manager his job! His kids will go to college
because of me."
pretended not to understand.
is a person who refuses to play his predestined
role of oppressor. He cries that I oppress women
and blacks. He creates and reinforces Glass Ceilings,
blah blah blah, and at the same time Greg claims
he isn't one of us. "The Man" who chooses not to
wield his power over others sees himself as a threat
to The System. But this is not the case. The System
protects itself by calling Greg a
faggot loudly and in public places. Well, maybe
The System doesn't, but I sure do. Constantly.
another type of person who abstains from being "The
Man," and this is The Rebel. In the few coherent
moments between their meth rages and booze stupors,
they think that they're happy. Save for the pitiful
amount of happiness derived from date rape and truck
rallies, their life is pretty goddamned miserable.
So, Rebel, you think you're fighting The System?
You're not. It's our fucking world; you're just
killing time here.
yes, Mr. Rebel, Blackman, Bulldyke, you can all
probably kick my ass. You can still kick my ass
just like you did when we were in grade school.
Sure, it'll hurt for a while. Let me tell you this,
though: Bad credit is forever. I'll make you bankrupt
and then do it again seven years later. I'll put
you on welfare,
send you to jail, and turn your wife and daughters
to prostitution. I'll ruin you. And after all the
shit you've pulled during your miserable life, when
you finally fucking kill yourself, you'll still
have Hell to look forward to.
If it struck me as funny, I'd make you drive your
twin sons to my house next Thursday and make them
do things and send them home with a videocassette
of it for you to write a thousand-word essay on.
is good as "The Man." I know how to enjoy life.
I wear leather made
from soft pelts of the fetal remains of third-trimester
Down Syndrome abortions. I dine on only the rarest
of endangered species. The only thing funnier than
clubbing baby seals is clubbing baby Haitians.
I was a little boy, my Grandma asked me what I wanted
to do when I grew up. I told her that I wanted to
rule the world. She looked at me wearily, tousled
my hair and said, "You will, honey...you will."