A Friend Indeed, Part II

I’ve had a few dust-ups with David Anderson, but politics aside, he’s a good guy. We’ve actually become pretty good friends.

Well, he’s been living and working in Costa Rica for a few years, and he suddenly found he was in need of some paperwork collected and moved around the country for various approvals and stamps. He has a few friends he could have asked, but instead he reached out to me.

So that explains why, right now, I am in possession of a certified copy of his criminal record and his one-and-only birth certificate.

That birth certificate is a fascinating document. He was born in Virginia in 1960, and the race of his parents are both listed as “colored.”

That set off a rather interesting discussion. First, I told him that there was a mistake on it. He’s black, and technically black is the absence of color. I’m white, and white is the combination of all colors. By rights, I should be called “colored,” not him.

Then he pointed out that he’s not really black, but brown. In that spirit, I’m not really white, but more of a pinkish-tan. (More tan than pink, my boss insisted on pointing out.) So I guess “colored” isn’t so much of a stretch.

That’s when I stole a gag from “Dr. Detroit.” (See the extended section for my recollection of one scene.) I said I was very surprised that he was listed as “colored.” I thought he was born that shade, and was astonished to hear he was colored that after being born. He wouldn’t tell me what his original coloration was, though.

So, anyway, I have this rather sensitive personal information on Mr. Anderson. He’s given me some money to cover my time and expenses in getting all his stuff in order for him, but it occurs to me that I could probably make a LOT more by offering it up for sale.

If any potential identity thieves who could pass for a black male in his 40’s would care to make me an offer…

(Kidding, David. It is currently on its way to that DC office you need it sent to. But when they send it back to me… well, you might want to be the high bidder.)

In “Dr. Detroit,” Dan Aykroyd plays a mild-mannered college professor who is pressed to portray a fictional pimp called “Dr. Detroit” by Howard Hesseman. In one scene, Dr. Detroit is called to get one of the prostitutes out of jail. The judge in question is an old-fashioned Southerner, and Ackroyd goes in as a “southern gentleman” out to rescue his poor, besmirched sister, a “true flower of the south” who has been horribly mis-accused of this travesty of justice. He persuades the judge to release the prostitute, Thelma, who is then brought into the courtroom.

Ackroyd is instantly horrified. “You didn’t tell me she was the BLACK one!”

He quickly grabs the lady in question and rushes her towards the door before the judge looks up. They almost make it, but the judge suddenly shouts out “That girl is COLORED!”

She yanks her arm free from Aykroyd and storms up the aisle towards the judge, infuriated. “Ain’t nobody ‘colored’ me, judge, I was BORN this way!”

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