David came home from wherever he was and this morning he sent me an email,
That’s one of only 2 emails I get from him, depending on the time. The other one is “Cocktails?”.
I was over there like a shot. He’s usually much more pleasant in the morning before he reads his paper and I wanted to take advantage of it. It doesn’t last long though.
He gets the New York Post, the white man’s bigot handbook, and it never fails in getting him revved up. He added to his usual Obama rant this morning by including Kanye West to his repertoire . It seems David takes Kanye’s equating his job to that of a policeman or a soldier as a personal affront and don’t even get him started on the Yeesus thing.
I’m no lover of Kanye but being a blowhard is not punishable by death and his disembowelment suggestion is overkill in anybody’s book.
We were interrupted by David’s cell phone. He glanced at the caller id and didn’t pick it up.
“It’s my boss. I know what he wants. It’s about some negotiation with a company over an equity split. We don’t think they have any alternative so we have a good chance of fucking them up the ass.”
Kanye was starting to look real good to me then.
My cell rang then, it was my sister, Marcia.
“Where are you? I’ve been calling you all morning. I want you to give me the number of your doorman so I can check and see if you went out.”
I told her I was at David’s and I’d call her when I got home.
I told David that I should give her his number so he could check on me if she was worried.
“Of course” he said “But don’t worry. If after a week or two you didn’t answer my “cocktail ” email I’d be sure to notice.”