The other week I popped by a local bar and randomly found out that my
one (white) friend from Mississippi’s band was playing.
So, I had a couple of beers till there was a break and we could catch up, and
we did, and then I met his (early 50s) (black) bassist and me and him then started chit-chatting a bit.
He said last week he was talking with a(n old) (presumably black) guy
who was like eighty-four years old, and he asked him how his Christmas was.
“Good, I got a sweater and some pussy,” the (old) (presumably) black
guy was like. “Both were too big, but it’s the thought that
counts.”
. . .
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