Trannies & Trumpers Mykel's Post MRR Column no 42

Mykel's

Post MRR Column no 42

Trannies and Trumpers

by Mykel Board

PISSY (& SHITTY) SECTION: I rarely use the ladies'... either at work or in a public place. Usually there's a line... I figure if someone wants to piss in the W, they've got to wait for a stall. In the M, the guys who can use the urinals, do. Stall pissers like me, have more chances.

Tonight is different. I rarely go out on Saturday night... too many tourists... but tonight I'm meeting my pals, Toshi, Pedro and Sven at Harp... the local Irish seafood place... (almost) all boys.

My bladder's three Harp-pints full, I gotta go. There's a line at the Men's... from the door to the bar... no amount of knee holding is gonna take care of me. The Ladies' seems empty...not a surprise since the drinkers here are mostly guys. Why not? I'll be in a stall. Who's gonna know?

A couple quick over-the-shoulder glances and I slip inside. It's empty. Whew! I run for a stall and close the door. There's a crack between the stall door and the frame. From my seated position, I have a full view of the front/sink part of the room. I have other fish to fry.

I sit down (my aim is worsening with age) and let go. While the relief comes over my body, I hear the door open. Footsteps... more than one pair.

I see two women enter, both twenty something... one white, a bit sorority-looking with melon bazooms under a striped black and white sweater... no ass to speak of under her jeans. The other... black, with one of those asses that Christians want to outlaw. She's wearing a CUNY sweatshirt, and pants so tight I feel my good part rise on the toilet.

“Let's go!” whispers one of the girls... I can't tell which from my vantage point. I watch... keeping deadly silent in the stall.

Then it starts. The white girl crosses her arms over her chest grabbing the bottom of her sweater. Uncrossing her arms, she pulls the wool over her head.

Double melons... real.. not the never-limp hard shell of implants... but the soft natural fall of Godly endowment. The kind of tits you can slide a sheet of paper beneath... and it'll stay.

Then the black girl... I dunno... there's something about dark skin.. all the way from Mexican-Lite... to African Noir. It's better up close, of course. In my little stall I'm too far away to see those tiny goose bumps... each one like a raised dot on an expensive condom. I imagine it and throb.

The two embrace. I hear the slurp of their kiss. It's like watching a porno movie on girls4girls.com. Then... more-so. Another woman enters. She's a bit older than the embracing ones... Late forties, I'd guess.... with a matronly haircut and the kind of body that shops at Walmart.

In a flash she's naked. They move to one of those three-way kissing triangles... All touch tongues. Then the housewifey one drops to her knees and pushes he face between the black girl's legs.

One by one, more people enter. They strip off and join the orgy.

---

Of course, none of that happened. I haven't been in a Ladies' Room in a dozen years. My vaginated friends assure me that nothing has changed. You go in, take care of business, wash your hands... maybe adjust your make-up... and leave... not very sexy.

Then what the fuck? What are the women and (mostly?) men worried about when they demand a bathroom closed to transsexuals... or anybody, for that matter? Unless my first fantasy accurately reflects what goes on, why should they care? What do they have to protect from MEN or women in men's bodies? Or anything? There's a stall. You piss privately... occasionally shit... and that's it. Otherwise NOTHING HAPPENS. You're more likely to be raped in an elevator than in a bathroom.

Do you care who sees you wash your hands? I don't even understand why there are separate Men's and Ladies' Rooms in the first place... unless they need to know where to put the urinals.

Even at the urinal, you're facing the other way, Goddamn it! What possible difference does it make?

SMILEY FACE SECTION: After the last election, my fuck-buddy Barack Obie said, “The sky won't fall. The sun will still rise tomorrow.” But you wouldn't know it from the panic

Trump coughs... he's intentionally spreading TB to help the drug industry. He scratches his earlobe... He's receiving secret messages from Putin about who he should appoint Secretary of State.

It's called The Halo Effect... though for Trump I'd call it The Horns and Tail Effect. It's a psychological principle that says if you like someone... or their ideas... everything they do will be good. Even if you only like their looks, everything will seem better about them.

Among liberals, the halo effect worked for Obama. He was responsible for thousands of foreign drone deaths. He bombed a Doctors Without Borders hospital. Killed a US hostage. Deported more people than any two presidents before him. Tried to push through the awful TPP, letting a business council decide American environmental and labor laws. He jailed more whistle-blowers than all previous presidents combined. If Donald Trump had done all that, there'd be marches in the street. There are marches in the street anyway.

But Obama has a nice face. He's a colored guy. He has a soft, intellectual voice. That's a huge Halo.

Donald Trump is ugly... as belligerent as a punk rocker... and as abrasive. No matter what he does, it's EVIL. Negotiate lower drug prices using the buying power of the government? It's a trick. Convince companies to stay in America? It's just propaganda. They were gonna stay anyway. No matter what he does... it's EVIL... because... well... because he's Donald Trump.

So Donny T's taking the limo home from a hard day supervising wall-building.

“Driver,” he says, “take me to the colored neighborhood. I wanna see how those people live.”

“We don't say colored anymore,” says the driver, turning the limo South.

“I'm the fuckin' President,” says Donald. “I can say what I like.”

The exchange ends there. In front of them is an old Washington wooden house, with a front porch... on fire. Big leaping flames... hotter than a tranny's thigh... right there in front of them.

“Stop the car, NOW!” shouts the president. BANG! He's out of there, racing into the burning building.

“What the fuck?” asks the driver frantically searching for a place to park. He's supposed to protect this guy, but the heat from the fire is too much for him to enter into the building.

He calls a special number and before long sirens ring in the distance. In what seems like hours, but is probably only a few minutes, a figure appears at the door of the burning house. It's the President. In each of his arms is a small child, faces covered with ash. The president's blond locks are singed. His red face is even redder. Blisters appear.

The next day Facebook liberals tell each other that Trump's own staff set the fire so he could profit from the publicity.

Trump can't win. There's nothing he can say or do that's right for those in the grip of the Horns and Tail Effect. After the fire, they hate the president even more because “he'd risk the lives of children, just to get some good press.”

Anyone who says, the guy might have an ounce of compassion is suddenly “a Donald Trump supporter.”

BACK TO REALITY: You can't even joke about Trump... unless the jokes you're telling are anti-Trump. Make fun of Obama, criticize Clinton... and you're a Nazi. The Halo effect makes every other view a danger... They warn: Don't take the risk!

“Listen,” they'll tell you, “Trump's an unqualified bad guy... stupid... insane!”

It's the Horns and Tail effect. You want to stay safe. (I already was unfriended^® by a long-term real-life friend because I said that Donald Trump had not yet started a nuclear war. Really!) So you agree, laugh at the guy. Fifteen years ago he made a joke about pussy grabbing... grab that line! Run with it.

Look at the TV liberals: Bill Maher, Stephen Colbert. What is their humor? Anti-Trump jokes. In those circles, being anti-Trump is as safe as being anti-Hitler.

Sorry buckaroos. As my condom supplier knows (I don't have one), I never play safe.

-end-

ENDNOTES: [You can contact me by email at god@mykelboard.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available by subscribing to the MYKEL'S READERS Yahoo group readmboard-subscribe@yahoogroups.com]

-->A Wet One Dept: Former Navy SEAL Carl Higbie told Fox News that torture isn't so bad.

"Well, I can tell you, NOT waterboarding didn't get us the information. So why not give it a shot."

Donny seems to agree, but that doesn't surprise me. I've heard he's a fan of watersporting anyway.

-->Girls vs God dept: During a basketball game between a heavily Jewish Boston-area public school, and a visiting all-boys Catholic school, the Jews taunted the Catholics by shouting, "Where are your girls?"

The Catholics shouted back, "You killed Jesus!"

-->Side effects dept: Tylenol, already marked because of a cyanide scandal last century, has since been shown to cause severe liver damage... and the latest report shows that the drug "dulls empathy." That means, if you take Tylenol, you're less likely to give a buck to that homeless guy sitting freezing on his cardboard box.

My question: Why hasn't there been a study about capitalism? I'm sure it will find an even strong correlation between it and lack of empathy. Take Ayn Rand.... please!

-->It had to happen dept: The city of Toronto had to cancel a public meeting on accessible housing for the disabled. Why? You guessed it. The building where the meeting was held was not accessible to the disabled.

-->Public Transportation Dept: Pastor Tim Jones of Resurrection Baptist Church in Kannapolis NC offered voters a ride to the polls in the last presidential election.

"The only stipulation is you vote against abortion, corruption, excessive gun control, Obamacare and career political criminals. Otherwise, you will have to take a cab! Our church is NOT ashamed to stand up and support Donald Trump!"

-->Xmas cheer dept: A man visiting Six Flags over Texas was asked to leave because he looked too much like Santa Claus.

WALB News reports that when parents saw this guy with a white beard and long hair,they asked him to pose with their kids. He did, and park officials kicked him out for... er... interacting with children.

Hmmm, we wouldn't want Santa interacting with children would we?

-->Show some respect dept: Indian police have arrested at least 20 people for not standing during the national anthem at a movie theater. Says a NY times article:

The arrests were the first known efforts by the police to enforce compliance with the Supreme Court ruling, which requires movie theaters to play the national anthem before each screening. Patrons, according to the ruling, are required to stand respectfully for the duration of the song unless they are physically unable.

The court said it was necessary that “the citizens of the country realize that they live in a nation and are duty bound to show respect to the national anthem.” The Constitution, it continued, “does not allow any different notion, or the perception of individual rights.”

Seems like football fans in the US also are not very big on "different notion of perception of individual rights," when players express THEIR disagreement by not standing during OUR national anthem.

--> Keeping the Pressure on Dept: I want to thank reader George Metesky for suggesting a continuing Bring Back Mykel effort directed at Maximum Rock'n'Roll for censoring me.

As their revolving editrixes move on to commercial ventures, each blames her predecessors for my demise... as if they had no control over the business... and couldn't simply invite me back.

Send your comments to mrr@maximumrocknroll.com (or post on their facebook page) with the subject line: BRING BACK MYKEL! Let me know how they answer.

See you in hell.

-end-

NOTE: If you're interested in my travel blog, you can read it at mykelsdiary.blogspot.com. (It hasn't been updated in awhile, but you might enjoy the history.)

MRR Column for no 357 (Mykel does election day)

 

You're Wrong

An Irregular Column

by Mykel Board

Mykel's Column for MRR # 357 (January)

"Democracy today is just a polite term for highly developed totalitarianism,” --Laibach

       ELECTION DAY 2012: One of the many things I love about toilet stalls is that you can close the door and be in your own world. You can experience the joy of release... sometimes the double joy. I now stand stall-pissing. Ridding myself of the morning coffee, with a touch of last night's beer. My whole body relaxes as the yellowtude pours out of me. Gas rumbles through my intestines. It too demands release. Yes! That's the double joy... a standing pissing fart. The morning's flatulence out with the morning's liquid. The gas bubble nudges downwards as the yellow stream slows to a trickle. I tense my abdomin... give it a final push... I'm already late for class... I gotta hurry.

Uhhh, uhhh, ugggg, whoops! It's not just gas that passes from my anal sphincter. A turdball... grape-sized... escapes and rolls down into my boxers... down the back of my leg... inside my knee... to my calf... to my ankle where it lays trapped by my pantsleg stuck into my army boots.

Damn! I wish I were a girl. Then, when I pissed, I'd be in the right position to aim those turdballs directly into the toilet. Now I'm stuck. No time to undo my boots and fish it out... and who knows what an extra mess that'd make? I'll have to let it rest until after class. Then, I can sit down and get rid of it... It's probably left a trail that'll need cleaning up... Delightful!

Ah well, it's back to class. I just hope I don't accidentally squash the turdball against my ankle. Besides slopping up, it'll stink. The Japanese, that means all my students, are extremely sensitive to smells. They don't even like GOOD smells. They want NO smell. (There are exceptions, but that's another column.)

Shit, it's not even 2PM and today's been hell. I tried to vote this morning... waited on line (IN line, as they say in America) for an hour... got to the front: “You're on the wrong line.... You're in the wrong building...”

Fuck, I'll have to come back during a break. I have to get to class....

When I do get to school, I complain about being kicked out of the poling area.

“Hey,” says a fellow-teacher.. a rabid Democrat, “that's not allowed. Governor Cuomo issued an executive order. Anybody can vote anywhere... It's on account of the hurricane.”

“Nobody told the guys where I vote... didn't vote,” I say, now even MORE pissed off.

She shrugs.

So here I am... in class... private... one-on-one... a turdball resting at the top of my boot, against my ankle.

My student is Takashi, an attractive young man from Osaka. His business casual clothes limp what would be an oriental-induced erection. Good, I don't need another pants problem.

Like my other students, Takashi is fascinated by today's election. He doesn't understand it, but it looks like fun.

“Are you a Republican or a Democrat?” asks the young man.

“I'm neither,” I tell him. “I hate 'em both.”

He looks puzzled.

“Then you're not going to vote?” he asks. “I thought all Americans vote. It's like football. Everybody has a team, right?”

“It IS like football,” I tell him. “I hate football.”

[Aside: Do they play THE RAMONES at football games? I honestly don't know. I hope not.]

“Okay,” he says, “then it's like baseball. You've got a team to support.”

“I support the Green Party,” I tell him. “I'm going to vote for Jill Stein.”

“Who?”

I repeat the name of my candidate of choice.

“Is that your mother?” he asks.

After class, I run back to vote again-- still with the turd in my pantsleg. This time the line is shorter, but it moves slower than the singer in a junkie band.

I finally get my paper ballot: a long confusing list of names. I fill in the little circle next to JILL STEIN. Then I fill in the rest of the WORKING FAMILIES PARTY choices. I'm not much for WORKING anything, but they have good taste in politics and-- except for supporting Obama-- are the best of the bunch.

But wait a minute... one of the working families guys is running for the SAME OFFICE (Senator) as the Green Party guy. I marked 'em both... screwed up the ballot... have to get a replacement. How the hell is some uneducated shlub gonna do this? I've got a fuckin' Master's Degree and I can't do it!

I bring the spoiled ballot back to the desk.

“Can I have another one?” I ask, handing over my mistake. “I fu... er... made a mistake on this one.”

The pimply adolescent whiteboy behind the table makes a tsk tsk sound as he takes the paper. He looks at it, tsk tsks again, (isn't that unconstitutional?) gets a folder, marks something on the ballot, hands me another, and says, “This is your last chance.”

I walk to the metal marking booths, open for the world-- at least for the TV cameras which are EVERYWHERE-- to see. I carefully mark my choices and bring it to the vote-counting scanner where a big Aunt Jemima blocks my way.

“I'll take that,” she says, “the machines aren't working right. I have to feed in the ballots very slowly.”

She takes my ballot and looks at it. She does not tsk tsk, but carefully inserts it into the machine, looks at me, smiles, and says “Thank you citizen.”

I immediately like her.

No time to chat. It's back to school for two more classes, then home.

I need to call WCSB at 10PM to record an interview. It's the second one in a week. The first was with Blag, yeah that one... from the Dwarves. He wanted to talk to me after the MRR no-column fiasco. He's got an internet radio show called “Radio Like You Want.” I don't even know if the show aired, but I was on it.

Now, I'm talking to... oh no! I forget his name. On Facebook, he's DRICORE. He has the late night show on WCSB in Cleveland. He must be old because this is the second interview he's done with me. The first was in 1997!

“Mykel,” he asks, “have you voted?”

“You bet,” I tell him, “and it wasn't easy.”

“From reading your columns, I guess you voted for Jill Stein,” he says.

That's what I like: a man who does his homework.

“You bet,” I say. “You think she'll win?”

“Is your dick gonna grow another three inches?” he doesn't ask. As a matter of fact he doesn't say anything... at least not then. After a throat clear, the conversation continues.

We talk more about the election. He tries the Obama line about healthcare, jobs, I donno. He wants me to be realistic. Sorry, I'm the wrong guy for that job.

People need employment because we've got a fucked up slave system that says work or die. I hate that system. I can't say it's GOOD to put people to work. Is it better that people work than die? Yeah, it's better that I have a turd in my pantsleg than a mass of red ants... but that turd is still a turd and I don't want it there.

The week before, Blag asked me about my rejection of jail for “abusers.”

“What's the alternative?” he asked. “We just let these violent people go and do nothing?”

What the fuck? I don't know the alternative. If someone says you can cure cancer by nailing your nipple to the wall, should I let people do it because I have no alternative? Because I can't cure cancer myself? I don't know what the answer is, but I know what it ISN'T. Same with jobs, abusers... and Obama.

What it comes down to: Am I happy Obama won? No.

Even a tinge that Romney won't be president for four years? No.

Even a bit... selfishly... that the world will think SLIGHTLY better of Americans because they re-elected a colored president? It will be easier to travel than it was during Bush times. Okay, a TINY BIT... selfishly... but that's it.

See you in Suriname... or hell... whichever comes first

ENDNOTES: [email subscribers (god@mykelboard.com) or blog viewers (mykelsblog.blogspot.com/) will get live links and a chance to post comments on the column. Your zines, Cds/records, and... er... private videos... can and should be sent to me at: Mykel Board, POB 137, Prince Street Station, New York NY 10012]

-->One of my facebook friends sent me a YouTube of a news report about a pizza delivery. A colored mother ordered a Domino's pizza. On the bottom of the receipt was printed: Niggahs don't tip. The woman complained. Domino's fired the driver who wrote the comment. That's as far as the video goes. But that's not far enough for me:

1. How do we know what color the driver was? We don't. Black people are a lot more free in their speech than white people. And they know the difference between Nigger and Niggah. The news made this sound like a racist incident, but was it?
2. Did Domino's settle to avoid a lawsuit? How much?
3. Did the family tip? Do they now?

-->Voter base dept: Ann Coulter said that Obama was campaigning with women's rights activist Sandra Fluke because he "is so desperate to get the base Democratic voter-- stupid single women-- to vote for him"

I ask, is Ann Coulter married? If so, does that mean the Republican voter base is stupid MARRIED women?

-->The Real Entrepreneurs dept: The Progressive reports that the Republican convention used the theme WE BUILT THIS to show how private entrepreneurship trumps government action. The convention itself was held at the Tampa Bay Times Forum, built with 62 percent government funds.

-->So that's why dept: On his radio show, Rush Limbaugh blamed a 10 percent decline in penis size on feminism. Says Rush “it has to be the feminazis, the chickification, and everything else.”

-->I'll tell you when I get to the Middle dept: A study by Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting found that of 10,489 election campaign stories, only seventeen talked about poverty. I can't remember hearing ONE. It was Middle Class this and Middle Class that. As the Republicans move to take the vote away from the poor, I bet we're gonna be hearing the word “poverty” even less in times to come.

-->Speaking of poverty dept: The National Federation of the Blind picketed dozens of Goodwill stores demanding equal pay for the company's disabled employees. The group says Goodwill has consistently paid sub-minimum wages to disabled workers, sometimes as low as twenty-two cents an hour. There goes my Chanukah shopping!

At least the workers of Walmart are finally going on strike. It's about fuckin' time! Black Friday too!!

I hope the store doesn't pick up thousands of scabs who need a few bucks and will do ANYTHING in for a job in Obamaland. Looks like Walmart's getting a black eye for this. But you don't care. You'll be shopping there... feeling like shit about it... but doing it anyway, right?

-->World Bully Dept: As Israel is acting like big brother America: invading other countries, mass murdering, destroying everything in a wide path, I frantically look around for some Jews I can be proud of! I found 'em! Rabbis for Palestine! They seem to understand the problem best... and they have the right answers.

On the other hand, Israeli rabbis are shouting “Palestinians to the Ovens!” Oy vey!

(MRR 351) August 2012 Mykel Faces His Fears!

You're Wrong

An Irregular Column

by Mykel Board

Mykel's MRR Column for MRR 351

where Mykel learns about his predjudices

 

 

It conformed to my idea of Africa and Africans, an obvious contrast to the growing isolation of American life... the insistent pleasure of other people's company, the joy of human warmth." --Barack Obama

Imagine an old fashioned faucet. The kind with a handle on top... made of iron... the way it curves... bending downward three-quarters of the way toward the spout... an iron hard L-shape... the opening of the L pointing South.

 

That's the shape of the erect penises of African men. At least it's the shape of the one now in my mouth as I lie with a Gambian... in The Gambia. Lights off, my bed partner is as dark as the night. My hands and mouth explore the braille of his body.

He too explores me, but doesn't take me into HIS mouth. Maybe, he's afraid of getting something... maybe it's just fear... the unwelcome novelty of a white stubby. He does manipulate me... very well... I mean.. Yes! Yes! There we go... I explode white into the darkest continent. Aaahhhh!

 

Whew! Now that's over, we can return to last month, where I was in a somewhat less orgasmic position.

 

 

FLASH BACK: I'm in Tangier. I inadvertently insulted some Arab students... posted a picture of their girlfriends on Facebook... invited lascivious comments.

 

The boys are mad: TAKE THE PICTURE DOWN... WHY YOU INSULT US? WHY YOU MAKE FUN OF US.

 

Before this, I thought these guys were cool. I met them in the park... friendly as kittens. They invited me to join them on-line with the invitation: Can you give me your face? We were supposed to meet... see the town.

 

Electronically, I apologized for the pictures and removed them... no response.

 

The next day, I meet them by “accident” on my front steps... all friendly again. They invite me to go out with them. I can even bring my friend Zayd if I like. They'll take care of me. Yeah, I bet.

 

I soon realize that the meeting was no accident. They had it in for me... were waiting on the steps all morning, just for me. I insulted their women and would pay with my life... or at least my testicles.

 

In the morning, there they are: three very big guys in a car. Zayd and I get it. They take us to the chopping block. Zayd dies quickly. Me, they take a little extra time with... NOT!

 

They take us to The Largest Arab-African Manga Festival in the world. It's sponsored by the University. My friend, Soufiane, (how could I have doubted him?... He is one of the heroes of this

trip!) knows everybody. He introduces me around. Takes me to the kung-fu show..

 

The rest of the day is a non-stop tour of an amazing Arab city. I meet a dozen people. I can feel their interest... not because they want something, but because they want to KNOW something.

They love their city and want to show it off, but they also want to learn about the world, America, Obama, everything. These are some of the best people I've met... and only in a short time. We're instant pals.

 

I feel like shit for doubting them. I feel worse than shit for letting my America-induced anti-Arab anti-Muslim feelings get in the way of my real-life experience. Me, Mr. anti-America! Still carrying American baggage in my bowels! Expel that shit now! I think I do, but you never know what remains... impacted in the mental large intestine.

 

 

Right now, I LOVE Muslims. I LOVE Arabs. They are fun, generous, funny, and more open to discussion than most anyone I know in the US. Governments ruling in the name of Islam... like governments ruling in the name of Judaism or Protestantism... are evil shits. But the people? Wow! I could live here.

 

FLASH AHEAD 3 WEEKS... TO THE GAMBIA: Back in bed with the Gambian who won't suck me off. I'll call him Barbour. I can't use his real name... he might get in trouble... though I can't imagine how he'll get in trouble from a blowjob!

 

(FYI: You have less of a chance of getting a disease from giving or getting a blowjob than you have of getting anal warts from toilet paper... except for herpes. Getting Type II herpes from someone with an active cold sore is possible. BUT, type II herpes is easy to cure AND once you get it, you're immune from getting type I: genital herpes-- the much nastier kinds. That means, a blow job is actually an exercise in preventive healthcare!)

 

For someone old enough to be out of college and into the REAL WORLD of employment, Barbour seems inexperienced. What about my balls? He could at least do my balls! That won't get him herpes! Even the good kind!

 

Wait, I have an idea. Maybe if he only manipulates me, it won't really count as AN UNNATURAL ACT. Later, I find this on the BBC website:

 

“The Gambian Criminal Code states that any person who has or attempts to have, "carnal knowledge" of any person "against the order of nature" is guilty of a felony and could face imprisonment. The Gambian courts may interpret homosexual acts as falling under this part of the Code. The Code also states that gross indecency between men, whether in public or private, is a felony and anyone committing this felony could face imprisonment. Any private citizen has the power of arrest for these offenses. The police have recently been actively enforcing this code. On the 10^th and 11^th of April 2012, 18 Gambian men and two Gambian women were arrested accused of indecent practice.”

 

 

And it gets worse.

“Gay rights activists have condemned Gambian President Yahya Jammeh's threat TO BEHEAD HOMOSEXUALS.

Last week he told a political rally that gay people had 24 hours to leave the country.

He promised "stricter laws than Iran" on homosexuality and said he would "CUT OFF THE HEAD" of any gay person found in The Gambia.”

Wow! Maybe that's why Barbour didn't give the head he should have. Giving me head may mean losing his.

On a side note, the president of The Gambia is an interesting guy. Luk Haas calls him the Juju President because of rumors he rules by black magic.

Jammeh took the office in 1994 in a coup d'etat. Since then, there have been elections every 5 years. People are encouraged to vote... and they do. Somehow, Jammeh always wins.

Unlike in Russia, though, people don't complain when the dictator wins. Many celebrate it. A funny guy, he often travels the length of the country. (That's not very far. The country is about the size of Maryland.)

When he travels, he throws t-shirts to the crowds clustered around his car. Each t-shirt has a quote from (you guessed it) the president. The quotes are not very profound... on the order of EDUCATION IS GOOD or WOMEN ARE IMPORTANT FOR A NATION. But I see them all over. Most Gambians love them and the man who threw them. I expect Barbour doesn't. I don't either.

But, like in Morocco, it is the PEOPLE of The Gambia that make it great. Governments are as fucked as corporations. And that's pretty fucked. In the US, the government IS corporations. But, as in Morocco, the people here are great.

Flash ahead to a university classroom: I've left my faucet-shaped host and moved to another Gambian city. Abdou, my new host is not so intimate, but he is twice as friendly.

He's invited me to sit in on two of his university classes.

I walk into the math class.The blackboard is villed with equations.  Totally beyond me. Weird stuff... sines... cosines... square roots...

Students sit at long tables... about four chairs to a table... Gals and guys mixed... equal numbers. About half the girls wear headscarves, about half the guys wear African-looking robes.

The girls are beautiful. Thin, oval faces with high cheekbones, soupbowl breasts-- and asses! Such asses! The bulge in my pants is NOT faucet-shaped, I can tell you that.

The professor walks in... a young guy... early 30s... he looks like a grad assistant... Abdou introduces us.

“This is Mykel, my friend from New York,” he says.   

We shake hands.

“Please don't call on me in class,” I beg him. “I don't get any of this math stuff.”
   

 

“You're in the class,” he answers with a mischievous smile, “I call on EVERYBODY in the class.”

I sit in fear of being asked something quadratic.    

The fear is unnecessary. The girls in the class take up the slack. Raising hands, answering questions, challenging the teacher.    

Amazing. Another stereotype... dashed in the sub-Sahara... Muslims have no respect for women... girls can't get into university... Muslim guys do all the talking... IT'S ALL BULLSHIT!

Hand raising, question answering, question asking, teacher challenging. GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS!    
  

I can't believe how American I am-- again. I pride myself on beating cliches. On not falling for anti-Muslimism or any other American prejudice. But I keep doing it. Headscarves and terrorists and burkas and... you know.

The Muslim countries of Indonesia, Pakistan and Bangladesh have or have had female presidents or prime ministers. How many women have sat in Washington DC's oval office? It took 200 years for our first Negro! (Africa has had 'em for decades.) Women? Fuddedaboudit!    
  

Here in The Gambia (and Senegal) women rule the roost. Husbands are there to fatten them up, to plant a seed and move on to the next wife. The home, the streets, the classroom are controlled by women.

Yeah! There's nothing like travel to show me when I'm wrong... when I'm American in spite of myself. This is stuff YOU'll never know. You're too attached to your own prejudices. You see a headscarf and you think slave. You see a woman carrying a day's groceries on her head and you think oppressed. You're wrong.

Your electronic i-chains oppress you more than a headscarf could ever do. You'll never learn about the world from Fox News OR Wikipedia. You'll never learn at all.


ENDNOTES:            

 

 

-->Tooting my own horn dept: Those who want to read the details of my trip to Africa... with more pictures but less sex than the columns, can follow me at: www.mykelsdiary.blogspot.com I've cut the sex in some entries because of the possible penalties for those involved. Me? I'm not shy.

-->Evils of Arizona part 2141032 dept: The public school district in Tucson has banned Mexican American Studies and taken books away from schoolchildren, teachers and libraries. The incredible censorship happened in a place where the ONLY decent thing is the Mexican influence. I'd love to see the Mexicans just pack up and move to New Mexico. Let the Arizonans trim their own gardens... and make their own tacos. See how far they get.    

-->Calves, pigs or women, what's the difference? dept: Georgia state Rep, Terry England was speaking in favor of a bill that would make abortion illegal even if the fetus is DEAD.    

Said England, “I've had the experience of delivering calves dead and alive. Delivering pigs dead or alive. It breaks our hearts to see those animals not make it. It's the same for women.

-->Frack that dept: With gas companies taking some heat for causing earthquakes in previously safe areas (like Oklahoma), it's ironic that Time Magazine has found that THE SIERRA CLUB “has accepted more than $25 million in donations from the gas industry.” Strange how the Sierra Club has embraced natural gas as a coal/oil alternative. Yeah, as strange as the Sierra Club's CEO's 6 digit salary.

-->Quote of the week dept: Alan Dlugash, a member of the 1% at the accounting firm Marks, Paneth & Shron complained

“People who don't have money don't understand the stress.”

 Aww, doesn't it get you right here.


-->Drip this dept: By an 8 to 4 vote, the Wilmington Delaware City council officially recognized the “personhood” of semen. Said their resolution “each sperm (person) should be equal in the eyes of the government

-->Let God pay 'em dept: Alabama state senator Shadrack McGill, says it's important to keep teacher's salaries low.    

“It's a biblical principle,” he says. “If you double a teacher's pay, you'll attract people who aren't called to teach. All these teachers that are called to teach, regardless of the pay scale, they would teach. It's just in them to do. It's the ability that God gave them.

-->Language flip-flop? dept: So Mitt Romney says he doesn't like the Obama healthcare program. That program was modeled after one instituted in Massachusetts by Governor... you guessed it... Mitt Romney. The Democrats point fingers and you see Romney's picture with FLIP FLOP sandals for ears.

But hold on! In an early debate among Democratic presidential candidates, Democrats were asked about their positions on homo rights. One candidate said, “I don't support gay marriage, I can tell you that much.” The candidate? Barack Obama.

So, what about Obama's recent statement of support for gay marriage?

“President Obama's position has evolved,” said a spokesman.

Yeah, like my shower sandals.

-end-

 

You can read about Mykel's African adventures in more details on his travel blog.