The tragic death of 17-year-old Trayvon Martin has resulted in a great deal of response from the American public, particularly with regards to who is really to blame. In a Gabbler special, two American citizens who are totally in touch with reality bravely tackle these sensitive issues head on, without fear of sounding completely insane or ridiculous.
—————————-
POINT
“Taste the Rainbow, How Skittles were the Downfall of Trayvon Martin”
Dear Editor,
This situation is tragic! After watching the news on my new iPad (the display really is impeccable, by the way), I immediately decided that I needed to do something. At first, I thought that perhaps I’d donate some canned goods to his family. But I quickly remembered that I don’t keep anything canned – it’s a bit vulgar. I did have a few jarred items – truffle oil, black caviar, that new face cream made with placenta – so I threw them into the basket. Then, I thought I’d add some clothes to the mix. But, I remembered that I’ve downsized to an all-black wardrobe (it’s more slimming) and I didn’t want to offend anybody.
In the course of my philanthropic endeavors, however, I realized something important. Young men and women these days – they don’t realize the effect their appearance can have on others. They simply do not understand that if they aren’t careful, they’ll look like a hooligan, and when a person looks like a hooligan, well, – in a sense – they become a hooligan. Now this poor young man, I know it wasn’t his fault, per se – but he was doing something that set him up from the beginning to look suspicious.
Yes, you all know what I’m thinking, but are perhaps too afraid to say it. Well, you know what? I’m tired of skirting around the truth when innocent people are getting killed! I’m tired of writing countless checks to charitable organizations, only to use them as a write-off come late February. Most of all, I’m tired of hiding in my big old house surrounded by electric fencing as soon as it gets dark outside. I’ll just say it – the boy was eating Skittles, for Pete’s sake. Skittles!
Everyone knows that only poor, desperate people eat Skittles. They taste like sugared plastic, stain your fingers purple, and – if consumed regularly – will rot out your teeth. And therein lies the problem. People with bad teeth are always criminals. It’s a fact.
Take my father’s third wife, for example. Oh sure, she knew how to wear a leggy little number and bleach out her hair (from a box, no less). But I knew from the moment she smiled and her incisors were yellowing at the edges that she was nothing but a no-good-hard-candy-and-cheap-
Anyway, my point is that people who eat nasty, sugary snacks never turn out well. Skittles, M&M’s, Starburst, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Nerds, Bazooka Bubble Gum, those filthy candies will rot you from the inside, out. It’s like that idea we talked about when I got bored and decided to get my Masters in Comparative Literature at Wellesley – a metaphor. Bad teeth are a metaphor for bad morals.
Of course, I don’t think this poor child was rotten just yet. I don’t know how these kids get started eating Skittles at such a young age: bad home life, depression, abuse, neglect, starvation, indifferent teachers, mindless television. Who knows? But I have some advice for all the children out there who want to protect themselves from crazed gunmen who can shoot at whomever they please with no legal repercussions whatsoever…
Please kids: don’t eat Skittles.
Sincerely Yours,
W.A.S.P.
(Woman Advocating Skittle Prevention)
—————————-
COUNTERPOINT
“Let’s End the Pity Party for the Pissant”
I’ve been hearing about this Travyon Martin thing for almost a week now and I think it’s just about time that I speak up. I know everyone’s going on and on about racism, which is just so typical of those people, those big fat libs in DC who want all my hard-earned tax dollars, but let’s get one thing straight—that kid probably had it coming. And, no I’m not saying that because he’s black, because unlike the rest of America, I don’t actually care what race you are. I know all I need to know about Trayvon Martin to know that he was just a little shithead walking around, challenging authority, pissing off men with guns.
The simple fact is, America, Martin was a 17-year-old. End of story. Who cares if he’s black, white, purple, zebra-striped, or whatever these stupid kids are making themselves nowadays? He was a teenager and I can tell you on good authority, as a man misfortunate enough to have six teenage grandchildren, that 95% of teenagers deserve a fate worse than death for about 98% of their behavior. So the way I see things, that Martin kid got off easy.
I mean, really? What do these kids think they’re doing nowadays? Spend most their lives in front of their computers and their iPhones and still manage to get knocked up and high while their parents are out working hard, trying to save for some higher education that will be wasted on these brainless hooligans, anyway. I mean, have you tried to go to the mall on a Saturday afternoon? I went just last weekend, needed some new slacks, and there were these kids in front of the J.C. Penny’s just standing there pushing those little buttons on their phone, not even talking to each other, just chewing their fruity gum loudly and glaring at some screen, not even moving out of the way of an old man just looking for some slacks. Ridiculous.
It wasn’t always like this, you know. When I was Martin’s age, I wasn’t just running around with Skittles and hoodie like I owned the streets because my daddy had given me everything I ever wanted. No, I was off at Bethlehem Steel, sweeping the floors every day after school. No cushy afternoons spent on these video game consoles, pretending I was off fighting a war. No, in my day we actually fought wars, instead of just staring at a screen and pressing buttons. Served in Nam myself. Saw things that would have turned Martin’s blood cold, that pussy little whiny teenager.
So get yourself together, America. Don’t waste your time listening to the lies of that liberal media. Who cares if the kid was black, the kid was a teenager, a plight on the land, a test sent from God and Zimmerman passed that test the minute he pulled the trigger and made the country that much better off for being down one little whiny little pissant teenager.
—————————-
BALLPOINT
POINT written by Lisa DeBenedictis & COUNTERPOINT written by Jessica Pierce
Follow us on Twitter
Join our RSS feed
