Friday, October 17, 2008

Black Ops (part 1 of 3)

This week, our ebon employment seeker applies for a covert position with a nearby college where his skin color is the only security clearance he needs.

I called you into the office today, Mr. Jangles, to offer you the position of Assistant Director of Diversity here at Southpaw University.

Great! … Buuut this is the first time we’ve officially met.

Yes, well, I know a go-getter when I see one. And I’m sure you’ll really get up and go get me … sorry, I mean it … as my new assistant.

You’re the Director of Diversity?

Yes… you see, I’m part Finnish … and part Danish.


And my husband is … part Norwegian.

I see.

And in college, he roomed for a year with a man from Belgium.

I think I get the picture.

Besides, why do I need to know anything about non-European cultures? That’s why we have Assistant Directors of Diversity, right? Heh, heh.

Riiight. Anywho, quick question— In this position, how exactly would I coordinate with the university’s Asian Student Association and the League of Hispanic Students?

Not at all.

I’m sorry?

The university officially recognizes our Asian students as Caucasian for statistical purposes.

Lord knows we wouldn’t want good American Joe Plumber and Mary Homemaker thinking that their hard earned tax dollars are putting Socialist Sunyuk through college.

Ah …

And Hispanics? Well, this is Texas; you can’t swing a dead armadillo ‘round here without knocking over three or four—

OK, metaphor well taken.

So as an Assistant Director of Diversity, I won’t be dealing with South American students, Indian-Americans, Pacific Islanders …?

To speak plainly, Mr. Jangles, when we say “Diversity,” we really mean “black people.” And when we say “Director,” we really mean “Controller.”

Controller of black people?

Southpaw University is an institution of unimpeachable merit, Mr. Jangles, and that reputation wasn’t achieved arbitrarily. Only by a very calculated and deliberate intervention of my dedicated group of covert cultural foot soldiers—

Foot soldiers??

… I can see you’re man about business, Mr. Jangles, so let’s get down to brass tacks. You want specifics: How about a full State of Texas benefits package?


Solid blue chip, mutual fund-directed retirement plan, 50K per year?

Sounds good.

And you don’t even need to come into the office; you can work from home—on-call.

Shoooot! Where do I sign?!!

And one more thing, Mr. Jangles. Here, we enforce strict adherence to what we call Protocol #57: Under no circumstances will any employee ever engage in a romantic relationship with me.

Well, that’s fine, Mrs. Bronze. My partner, Mandy, and I—

I know, Mr. Jangles, that this protocol may be extremely hard to follow, but it is absolutely paramount.

No, Mrs. Bronze, I’m completely OK with—

Even if you were to come to the office in skin-tight Levis and a see-through muscle shirt, your biceps bulging from lugging a suitcase—

You’re right, Mrs. Bronze. I completely agree. Under no circumstances—

And even if in the throes of a temporary passion I were to fling myself—

OK … I’m gonna go to the HR office now.

Training Day

We go by codenames while on duty, Mr. Jangles.

You will be known as “Onyx Stone.” This is your partner, “Crystal Meth.”

Assalamu Alaikum, brother.


Only on the outside, brother. It’s “Meth” here, underground.

I see you’ve met our boss, “Opal Phaeton.”

Yes, well, most employees just call me “Ofay,” for short.

Welp … go get ‘em, Onyx!


Did she just slap my behind?

Yeah, you’ll get used to that. Anyways, let me show you your new toys.

Item # 24-PQR5-21D … looks like your typical set of gold fronts—ornamental mouth jewelry—right?


But when you bite down firmly on the front molars …

I just can’t stop—I just can’t stooooooop … iiiiiiiiit!!

Is that the latest R&B single by the pop star Ne-Yo … emanating from your mouth?

Yep … instantly transforms any black female underclassman into putty in your hands.


And this, item # 44-TTR7-85G … a “lojack” ankle bracelet. Gives you instant street cred with that fresh-out-on-probation look ... Comes with a built-in, spring-loaded sneaker scuffer.

This baby will send any ostensible roughneck crying home to his mama for a buff rag and some shoe polish.

That’s, like, the illest invention I ever— Huh … what’s that oblong, green object sitting inside that glass case?

Explosive watermelon, detonated sonically by the utterance of the N-word.

… Careful, that baby has a hair trigger.


Ssshyeah … we gave Jesse Jackson a tour of the facility a few weeks back, and he liked to blew us all to Kingdom Come.

So Meth, straight up—aside from the cool gadgets, the secret agent lifestyle, the relatively long stretches of inactivity when you just sit at home collecting a paycheck, what made you want to “control” black folks for the Department of Diversity?

Well, it all goes back to my days as an adjunct professor, rolling my A/V cart through campus ...

Across the brickyard I’d hear the throaty F-bombs from unmistakably African-American tongues …

… explicit references to sexual intercourse belted out as boorish attempts at wooing the opposite sex …

… the coonish carryings-on of a benighted bunch of black college students.

And it hurt my pride to pass my colleagues and have them shake their heads at me with downcast eyes as if I, too, were a part of the great “Negro problem.”


Like DuBois, I decided to stand up and be, for once, a part of the solution!

How stirring.

Come, Onyx Stone! Let us go whip these young black folk—standing but a few shuffling steps up from slavery and a slave mentality—into a presentable and respectable condition!


What’s that noise?

Red alert! There’s been a security breach!

This rat hole has security?

But who could have possibly broached our defenses?

Who else?

Gasp!! It’s Diamond Light!

Who dat is?

Only the DoD’s #1, most reviled arch-nemesis. She single-handed perpetrated the establishment of the Southpaw University drumline, step team, and Beta Lambda Kappa sorority—the most out of control black organizations on campus!

And I’m working on forming a Baptist holiness church gospel choir, too!

Oh, dear Lord … Noooooooo!

Ha, ha, ha! I just wanted to drop in and leave you two Haterade-sipping Negroes with one word of warning.

Well, make it quick.




Splatter Splatter Splatter Splatter

Curse her! Waste of a perfectly good explosive watermelon.

Ah, well … we’ve still got a few nitroglycerin-infused honeydews in the back.

Mmmmm, espionage never tasted so sweet.


… I’m just saying. That thing was ripe as a mug

For the love of Madam C. J. Walker, Onyx! Spit out those seeds!

… It’s time to go to work.

To be continued ...


marko said...


this one hits close to my job

Jackson Brown said...

dang, i always suspected you were a secret agent, marko.

Shawna said...


i love the A/V cart pic lol

"how stirring" hahahahahaha!

and did i just miss the jangles thing earlier?

Jackson Brown said...

lol. thanks.

nah, the jangles thing was new--an inside joke for returning readers (his first name isn't mentioned in this comic).