| OFFSIDES
Nigger
or Angel?
Several people, fans for the most part, have approached me
wondering, in light of my “nothing is sacred”
style of writing, why I don’t ever use the word nigger
in my articles. Now, the easy answer for this would be that
my typical readers are mostly caucasian men and women so laden
with white guilt that they’d rather buttfuck an entire
tribe of Mau-Maus than actually read the word nigger in print.
You know, like the white guy who will fight another white
guy tooth and nail for simply saying the word, but then turn
around and let a pack of wild niggers run rampant lest he
be accused of being racist. That’s my type of guy.
Although this is an easy answer, it’s not one I would
choose to embrace because, like most racial “issues”
in our society today, it’s just stupid and overused.
There are plenty more examples. For instance, these free-thinking
rednecks who will give you the old “Why is it that when
a black guy does it it’s ok, but when a white guy does
it, it’s such a big deal. It’s reverse prejudice!”
Reverse prejudice? Is that your big brain opus, you fucking
hick? Reverse prejudice? Shut the fuck up. White people aren’t
supposed to complain anyway, so act your fucking race for
God’s sake. You make me sick.
These people are just one step removed from the “Well,
you got your black people, and then you got your niggers.”
crowd. Yeah, try to explain that one to the next black family
you see at the grocery store, Mother Theresa. Then there’s
the “educated” liberal who loves negroes so much,
he wants to put them on the endangered species list. (I don’t
know how they made it this far without you, Pal.) None of
these folks are to be overshadowed by the enlightened darky
who, after one too many black history months, has decided
that he now rules the fucking planet. Basically, everybody
on every side of the race issue sucks, including me, and you
can read more about it in my up and coming novel, a sociological
masterpiece titled, White People Who Are Afraid To Speak Their
Minds, And The Niggers Who Scare Them.
Now, I know that there are some of you out there who may be
mexican, or asian, or arab, or whatever, and you’re
thinking “but this is a black/white argument, where
do I fit in?” Well, you don’t fit in. Now fuck
off.
All this being said, I just don’t feel like using the
word nigger is appropriate, unless it’s used strictly
in instances of humor and good taste: Like in my next bit
here for instance, where I explore how in almost every circumstance
that you substitute the word “Angel” with the
word “Nigger”, hilarity ensues.
Ok, remember, we are using the word “nigger” in
lieu of “angel” with hilarious consequences. Let’s
begin with songs. First, you have The Black Crow’s hit,
“She Talks To Niggers”. I had a girlfriend like
that once. Then, there is Slayer’s “Nigger of
Death”, the Colin Ferguson story. Local Austinites will
be particularly fond of Willie Nelson’s hit, “Niggers
Flying Too Close To the Ground” which is the biography
of both Mickey Leland and Roberto Clemente. Some golden oldies
would include “Earth Nigger”, “Dream Nigger”,
“Johhny Nigger”, “Pretty Little Nigger Eyes”,
“Devil or Nigger”, “My Special Nigger”,
and “Nigger Baby”, all of which are much funnier
when sung aloud than read in print. Bob Dylan lovers around
the world will recall “You Nigger You”. Let’s
not forget Juice Newton’s ballad about her garbage man,
“Nigger of the Morning”, or “Niggerfuck”,
The Misfits’ ode to coal burning women.
Moving right along to television and film, one would easily
remember a classic like Charlie’s Niggers, but should
never overlook a more contemporary work like Touched by a
Nigger which, along with Date with a Nigger is about that
same old girlfriend I mentioned earlier. I have always considered
Nigger Heart to be one of Robert DeNiro’s best movies,
and We’re No Niggers to be one of his worst. One mustn’t
forget the wonderful world of Disney. Niggers in the Outfield
has always been a recipe for success, and Niggers in the Endzone
is something we are all very familiar with. Nicholas Cage
fans are particularly fond of City of Niggers, which I believe
was filmed in either Atlanta or Washington D.C. I still can’t
decide whether Paul Hogan’s Almost a Nigger is about
Colin Powell, or Eminem. Perhaps you, my reading public can
choose. I’ve always considered Jessica Alba’s
Dark Nigger and the documentary, Tupac Shakur- Thug Nigger
to both be cases of overstating the obvious. This year’s
Iron Jawed Niggers from HBO is probably the newest addition
to our list, while an internet search of old movies reveals
a virtual wellspring of titles, including Niggers, We Call
Them Mothers Down Here (1922), Niggers With Dirty Faces (1938),
and Nigger on my Shoulder(1946).
As far as everything you have read up until this point, I
admit a certain degree of culpability, sure. However, you,
being the person who just sat there and read all of it, will
be ultimately held responsible for what just happened. Furthermore,
although using the word nigger 39 times in one article may
seem a bit excessive even to the staunchest conservatives,
let’s not overlook the fact that in writing 27 different
“Offsides With Chad Holt” pieces, my overall niggercount
rests comfortably around the 1.444 per article mark. I consider
this to be a perfectly acceptable average, even to the most
progressive of social organizations.
Moving
right along, I notice that there is still plenty of space
left for me here, so it may not be too late to try to actually
entertain somebody. Join me, as I look fondly back on one
of the more amusing traffic stops I’ve been involved
in. This would have been back when I was still in the band
DKB with most of my ex-conspirators from Frunttbutt. I remember
this because I had just bought a bunch of postcards out in
Hollywood that I was going to use to make a flyer. I had some
great cards with pictures of Schwarzenegger, Stallone, Chuck
Norris, Jean-Claude Van Damme and so on, most of them scantily
clad and sweaty in really muscular action poses. This would
have made for a great flyer, believe me. I was driving along
up in north Austin somewhere, and got pulled over by two officers
in a DPS cruiser. I don’t remember what the infraction
was, but I do recall not being able to find my insurance initially,
which that led to even greater scrutiny. Eventually, I was
asked to exit the vehicle, and answer a series of the standard
question, when I noticed one of the officers had sort of angled
around behind me and lowered his flashlight a bit. He clears
his throat and says, “Uhhh, Mr. Holt?” This is
when I started thinking about the pants I was wearing.
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