The 1st Annual Racial Harmony Picnic
Recently, in the cavern of infinite joy (that’s what I’ve been calling my mind these days) a light went off (my cavern has electricity and running water, thank you very much).
For years, Martin Luther King day has come and gone with nary a celebration of what the good doctor had intended: equal rights and racial harmony. This year, I decided to step my civil rights game up and have a racial harmony picnic, a gathering of unity which says "we are all equal" and also which says "we can drink heavily because we don’t have work tomorrow."
Like most crusades, this one is not without seemingly insurmountable obstacles that I must overcome. First of all, who ever heard of a picnic in the winter? It’s a contradiction in terms, a rather implausible paradox. However, the unseasonable warmth we have been experiencing in NYC recently can only seem as ethereal confirmation that God approves of my plan and will help.
Then, there is also the fact that most of my good friends happen to be white and even then, our history of social interaction is filled with divisiveness based upon ethnicity (Italians Vs. Jews basketball being the most glaring example). But I’ll just ignore that fact for the time being. Worse comes to worse, the name of the event is the 1st Annual Racial Harmony Picnic, not Oooh Look At Us, We’re Diverse.
Also, it should be noted that as a child I attended P.S. 116, which was at the time billed itself as the "International Magnet School" because the school had students representing something like 46 different countries. We used to dress up as our countrymen would and all walk to the UN. I remember once seeing "Ziggy Marley and The Melody Makers" there. I imagine the number of different nations we repped would have ballooned after the USSR crumbled into numerous less dominant "countries", however by this point I was chilling in 7-3 at Hunter.
Either way, when recounting my storied past, it is important not to leave out my childhood years which were filled with pleasant interactions with people from diverse backgrounds. And when our school used to travel to Randalls Island and compete in the District 2 Track and Field Championships, we didn’t rally behind any flag or ideology. Rather we raised our collective young voice and triumphantly exclaimed in unison: "One-sixteen (clap, clap) one-sixteen (clap, clap)."
Unlike Thanksgiving, the annual fraud perpetrated by Hallmark et al., my 1st Annual Racial Harmony Picnic will steer clear of the capitalist scourge of decorations and greeting cards, focusing instead on the things that traditionally bring people together; alcohol, NFL football and the vague promise of food.
In a perfect world, I would mainly entertain attractive young ladies from far-off regions of the world who would bring home-cooked delicacies from their native lands and then help me clean up, all the while remembering to only talk during the commercials of the football games.
Alas, the world is flawed.
Imagine all those ladies, silently watching football…..Ohhhhhhh, you may say I’m a dreamer, but clearly I’m awake… So please come join me, as golbal unity is at stake…….(in my day we don’t rhyme "one" with "one")
Anyway, if you haven’t heard any further details for me before Sunday and are interested in attending, holler at me.
Weather/food/harmony permitting.
