Black Votes Matter

You know, I don’t even pretend to understand what it is to be Black in the United States. People think things are are monochrome in Stars Hollow and they pretty much are, in Stars Hollow (hate this stinking town), but I don’t live more than an hour away from any part of Connecticut and there is no place I haven’t walked. Yup, Bridgeport, Hartford, New Haven, all supposed to be scary for someone as white as I am (New Haven actually is scary but no one talks about it. Yale.).

I may have mentioned that I used to work at a Gas Station. I did 4 to 12s standing behind a register that was never supposed to have more than $200 in it.


Anyway the guy that did the shift before me, the 8 to 4s, about my height, about my age, same general skin and hair color (Look, I am the whitest guy you’ll ever meet), come to find out he was in the Witness Protection Program for narcing on the Latin Kings.

And I stood in an illuminated glass box for 8 hours a day.

The most exciting thing that ever happened was when the steam cleaners working on the canopy set off the Halon fire suppression system. That was pretty spectacular, covered the whole block in fog. I phoned my boss and asked her if I should close down.

“You can still breathe, right?”


“It will clear off in 10 or 15 minutes. Have the Fire Department call when they get there.”

Sanders Hits a Brick Wall with the Black Vote

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  1. Vent Hole

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