I'll keep this brief.

The career fair atmosphere was cold and uninviting with rows of booths lined up for each company to represent themselves. I gave my resume out to several of the booths but felt like I placing sentential logic problems before a newborn. The P.R. reps. would take the resume and peer at it as if they knew how to read before slobbering on it and eating the damn thing. The booth I should have really hit up for a job was for a hip hop radio station with a S. Central located address. I could have brought the brothers "The Cracker Hour," and played such faves as Cypruss Hill and Offspring. I'm prety sure my dope mix would be oil and water.

One thing I didn't note on the ad for the job fair was that it was sponsered by the NAACP. That ensured that Kirsten's cousin, Evan, and I were among the only white folk in attendance. This was no skin off anybody's ass. Nobody cared. I do have to wonder about a group in the 90's calling themselves the National Association for the Advancement of 'Colored People.' I'd think the N, quadruple A would have been adopted in the 80's. There is nothing wrong with the term, "colored," it's just that it fell from popular usage. Of course it could always be the NAAN or the NAANWA.

Alright, a promise is a promise. And to keep this brief, I'll close by saying that this is not what I wrote intending to be the column today. No. What I intended for the column became too personal for web-based consumption. There is such a thing as a private life. Perhaps I'll put it up on a later date as the long lost alternate entry for Sept. 14th 1999. Nah. I'll write about it today only it'll be allegorical and have nothing to do directly with me. So for tomorrow, be sure to adorn your critical intereters gloves before digging in, for safeties sake.

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