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"Who da man?"
Written on 2001-07-12, at 1:56 a.m.
I decided to join a cause.

I didn't know what cause to join, so I decided to think on it a little. Did I want something ecological?

No, I don't like getting dirty.

Did I want something on human rights?

No, they're always getting arrested.

Then I saw something on TV, someone was giving a speech, yelling and screaming of how the "..man was keeping him down..." and to "Fight the man"...

He seemed so vehement and set on his stance that it moved me. So I decided then and there to "Fight the man!!!"

Then I realized I'm a white American male with a very healthy economic backround.

Shit, I thought...I am the man.

So now I have all the lights off in my apartment, typing this in secret, for I'm not very keen on violence, especially when it's directed toward me.

After several hours in my self-induced exile, however, rations began to run short...

And by rations, of course I mean two Smirnoff Ices, and a bag of Rolos.

At some point, I gathered up the courage to put the TV back on, and I happened to look at what I had been watching. Hmm. It was a documentary of the struggle of blacks in the 1960's.

After some mental mathematics, I realized that I, being born in 1978, was not alive in the 1960's.

So...I'm...not the man?

This was a crushing blow to my ego...though I soon let it go, as I became intrigued, and decided to find out just who "the man" was.

So, I set off on my journey...at some point I came upon a homeless man. "Can I ask you a question?" I said. "If ya gimme a dollah." he replied. So I obliged him. "Ok, whaddya want?". "Um, who's the man?" I asked timidly. He replied, "Heeeeeeeeeey, you da man!". Obviously he was confused...so I explained to him that I, too, thought I was the man, but as "the man" was around in the 1960's, the laws of nature simply don't allow for that. He obviously had some sort of problem comprehending this, as his reply was to urinate on the wall behind us. Taking this as the termination of our conversation, I moved on.

Frustrated, I went to the one place that anyone searching for something out of life should go.

Of course I mean Starbucks.

So as I order my double grande white mocha chip light skim milk low froth expresso shot, I ask the coffee-girl if she knew who the man was. She looked at me with that "I don't get paid enough to deal with you" sort of look.

The result of all this was that I eventually DID find "the man".

Turns out, "the man" is Morty Weisenbaum, a retired dentist from Bayshore, Long Island. He enjoys golfing, visits from his grandchildren, and early dinners at Ponderosa.

Be well...


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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