Top Black Racists of 2021: The WAZ Awards: Winner #4: The Grant Park Philistines

Top Black Racists of 2021: The WAZ Awards: Winner #4  The Grant Park Philistines     SONNY

“Gentlemen!” Roy Sequoia raised his voice and glass as one. “And the rest of you, too. The time has come to direct your white, light, bright, privileged attention to a man who comes from a little state down there in America. Yes, I’m talking about Texas, which, if you cut Alaska in half, would be the third largest state in the Union. A state that gave the world beehive hair, the Alamo, the Texas-Two-Step, Willie-Waylon-and the Boys, Flyin’ Ted Cruz…”

Sonny made a chopping motion at his neck. “Coulda stopped with Willie, Waylon, and the Boys,” he said. “Anyway, here’s my pick for top black racists of 2021.”

He handed Al and Ira a card, Sonny began to sing.

“Come on! Oh baby don’t you wanna go
Come on! Oh baby don’t you wanna go
Back to that same old place, Sweet Home Chicago.

Tim raised his hand “Wild guess: we’re going to Chicago.”

Sonny nodded, “Third largest city down there in ‘Merica. Gettin’ smaller all the time, though. Last one out of the ‘Windy City’ turn the lights off, kind of leaving.” He handed Ira the next clue, which Al played while Ira began to sing

“Starry, starry night. Paint your palette blue and gray,
look out on a summer’s day. With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
shadows on the hills, Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
catch the breeze and the winter chills, In colors on the snowy linen land.
Now I understand…”

“That’s Don McLean’s song about Vincent Van Gogh.” Tony said. “Only place in Chicago I know that would have a Van Gogh is the Art Institute. I’ve been there. That’s the one with those great lion statues out front.”

Sonny nodded an affirmative.

“Are you telling us the Art Institute of Chicago is racist, Sonny?”

The big man didn’t reply, he handed the next clue to Al who began to sing.

“Doe a deer, a female deer, ray a drop of golden sun…”

“Chicago, Art Institute, doe. Doe in pictures. Doe in art. Doe in a museum. Docents! Docents in the Art Institute of Chicago. They’re amazing. I’ve seen them.” Tony said.

“You won’t see ‘em no more.” Sonny said.

“Why not?”

“Well Tony, ‘cause the Art Institute of Chicago shit-canned ‘em all ‘cause they was white women. Almost all of ‘em was older white women. That didn’t fit the ‘burn it all down’ Cultural Revolution mentality down there in Chicago. If that ain’t racist I’m a Rastafarian. Hunnert and twenty-two doe-scents. I don’t know why they call ‘em that. Doesn’t matter, they’re all gone.”

“You sure the Institute wasn’t just low on money and had to let them go?”

Sonny rolled his eyes. “They didn’t pay ‘em in the first place, Tim. Never did. For sixty years women, most of ‘em, worked for free. Volunteered ‘cause they’s good people. Just for the love of it. For art. And I know that museum wanted to get rid of white women for being white ‘cause they said so. Said they’s gonna hire minorities, for pay, instead.”

“How do you know about this, Sonny? I wouldn’t have figured you for an art connoisseur.”

“I ain’t smart-ass. Heard more’n I wanted to know about it last year when me and Mardell went to Chicago when her sister married that fireman. Ed’s his name. Mardell was the maid of honor. Ed’s momma was one of them doe-scents. That woman knows more about art in her little pinky than all of us here put together ever learned or ever will. She’d been volunteering more than fourteen years. Just for starters; she had to do an 18-month training that would make college art school look like finger puppets, then she had to do a 5-year research project on sharing the museum’s collections to the public. THEN, they had monthly sessions and extra sessions every two weeks for new exhibits. On top of that, she’d go to the museum to take class rooms of kids around. And she’d pay for books on her own. And do all that Chicago driving where they can get traffic jams across five lanes even in the middle of the damn night.”

“Erudite privilege.” Gene said.

“Erudite this.” Sonny went on. “Mardell’s momma can tell you all about Van Go whut cut off his ear, and that French guy whut couldn’t hardly see so he painted blurry…”


Sonny shrugged his shoulders, “I guess. After all she done for them, after all the other doe-scents done, the Art Institute of Chicago hires a black woman as head of the education programs and she goes right out and fires all the doe-scents when every one of them knows more about the place than she did.”

“Sounds to me like she was set up.” Roy said.

Sonny rolled his eyes again. “I cain’t say Roy, but if someone gives you a gun, and you pull the trigger, who owns whut the bullet does?”

“Fair enough.” Roy said. “Did she own the bullet?”

“I think you know better’n that, Roy Sequoia. No siree, she played the victim card. Said she couldn’t believe all the people that was mad about it. Said she was scared of ‘em. Said she’d hire more security for the museum…”

Sven said. “All them rich people been giving money to the museum. They going to keep shelling it out?”

“Would you?”

“Hell no. So, you say this museum gonna pay new people who never been on deck compared to the old hands they fired. The ones who worked for free. And they’re going to pay more for security to protect this black girl from the boogey man. All at the same time people who buy ‘em hooks and bait are leaving. How’s that supposed to work?”

“I dunno how it’ll work for them but it worked out real good for me, Sven.” Sonny said. “First time we been to Chicago in years that Mardell didn’t drag me through the Art Museum. She was spittin nails when Ed’s momma told her whut happened. Mardell called ‘em up and gave ’em hell. Maybe that’s why they thought they needed more security. Mardell’s somethin’ else when she gets up on step. All I know is, we didn’t pay to go there. Mardell didn’t buy Christmas presents at the gift shop. And I got to go to Ed’s bachelor party instead. His friend’s took us to the bar, then another ‘un, and another ‘un, ‘till I lost count. I tell you whut, when it comes to drinking and bullshitting, a Texan’s got nothing on those Chicago boys. They had me laughing all night long. Then we went to the wedding, and the reception with about four hunnert people, everybody sang “Sweet Home, Chicago” young un’s, old un’s all dancin’ and singin’. Beat the snot out of the Art Institute and no one fired the bartenders ‘cause of whut color they was. ”

“On that note,” Roy said, “Tonight we’ve heard of a once proud institution now shamed and degraded and woke. Can I hear a note of disapproval.”


“Well spoken.” Roy said. “The Art Institute of Chicago boasts a world class collection of 300,000 pieces expressing what defines humanity. But something is missing. Van Gogh, Monet, Renoir, to say nothing of relics from Egypt, Mesopotamia, and Asia, beautiful and humbling as they are, remain sadly incomplete without a unique and priceless donation only we can give. I mean, of course, ‘The WAZ.’ What say you?”


It was a landslide. And so, to the Art Institute of Chicago: for dumping your dedicated docents, for abandoning your sacred mission to pass on the world of art to future generations in favor of a woke and wasted shadow agenda put forth by silhouettes unnamed to the public and unloved by future generations, we donate in perpetuity the WAZ 2021 Award. Feel free to put it in the Deviant Art Collection.