Greetings from an undisclosed location in Southeast Asia!
I think you got a little confused when I emailed you last about me taking time off from the Friday Funny. I didn’t say anything about “finding inner peace.” That part of the email actually said “striving for synergy.” It’s okay, I misread things sometimes too.
Anyway, I’m overseas right now with an NGO helping repatriate legless Uzbekistani pig farmers. It’s a bigger problem than you’d think!
One of the biggest challenges has been navigating the Uzbek language. It’s enough to make this poor redneck’s head spin. Fortunately, we’re with a local who’s serving as a regional guide and translator for our group.
I can’t even begin to pronounce this fellow’s name, SHG, so I asked him for the sake of this letter if I could just call him “Hadji,” like that kid on Johnny Quest. After agreeing to his price: two Kit Kat bars and some falafel, he agreed, so Hadji it is!
There’s two supposedly famous rappers in our group. One calls himself “Yung Thug” and the other “Rich Homie Quan.” The guy who calls himself the Thug says he’s working with the pig farmers to “rehabilitate his brand.” I asked both for pictures and they told me it would be me violating their Black spaces with my requests of institutionalized whiteness, so I guess that’s a no.
Sorry. Don’t want to be racist or culturally insensitive!
Another guy in our group is a dude named Emanuel Achoo. I swear I’ve seen this guy somewhere before, SHG, but I can’t place my finger on it. He says he’s a former NFL player with a podcast. That’s cool. I like Pat McAfee’s show.
Mr. Achoo and I play cards every night by the fire. He always wants to talk about the weirdest stuff, SHG. Things like “structural racism” and how I internalize my “whiteness.” When I tell him I’m not interested in any of that stuff he just smiles at me and says “So are you afraid of Uncomfortable Conversations…with a Black Man?”
If I didn’t know better I’d swear that was the name of his podcast. Anyway, the sucker talks too much to notice even a basic bottom deal. I’ve cleaned him out of $2000 and we’re only a week into the trip!
My job is to process paperwork for the pig farmers so their huts are up to UN standards for health and safety. Given all the paperwork I’ve had to do as a lawyer, it’s a surprisingly easy task, even if I have to have Hadji read everything for me on the forms twice.
It’s a better gig than Rich Homie Quan got. He’s on the team that has to manually masturbate the male pigs for artificial insemination. I don’t know what he did to get that gig, but it couldn’t have been very good.
Hadji tells me Quan and the rest of the artificial insemination team have a name among the locals. Roughly translated, it means “Noodle Ankled Pork Pleasers.” Nobody tell those guys. They’re doing thankless work as is.
Things are a bit dull at the moment. We were supposed to be joined by Mikhaila Peterson two days ago, but she pulled out when her dad supposedly had to do some research on how lobsters clean their natural habitats. I can’t blame her. Scientific progress must march on and all.
We were told there would be fallout from Afghanistan and to watch for Al-Qaeda operatives while on this humanitarian mission, but I haven’t seen anything that calls for alarm. Everyone we’ve seen wielding AK-47s and driving reappropriated US Military vehicles have just been engaged in mostly peaceful protests.
Protests of what, I can’t say. After all, I don’t speak the language. And I’m here for the pig farmers, not to judge.
I did catch one or two groups of men chanting “Let’s Go Brandon,” which I can only assume means they’re NASCAR fans. Say, did you see that kid Brandon Brown recently win at Talladega last month? I think he’s going places.
Anyway, we’re set to return back to the States in a couple of days, when I’ll rejoin my beautiful family and then we’re off to a much needed vacation. Hopefully I’ll be able to send you another letter from wherever it is I choose to take some much needed rest.
Finally, I noted last week with some displeasure you referenced my previous phase in life as a Krishna disciple. We both agreed at the time it was a phase I was going through in life, that I would grow out of it eventually, and be embarrassed by it.
Well, I am, SHG. I actually like my full head of hair, decent fitting clothes, and no more obligations to sell flowers or little books to airport travelers. So I’d appreciate if we relegated that part of my life to the dustbin of history and never mentioned it again.
I’ll write you wherever I am next week on vacation. I may not let you know where I am, but I owe it to keep in better touch with you.
Hare Rama, Hare Yogi, Hare BooBoo,