Wrapped Up Like A Douche

Dinette Vignettes: The Sidewalk Edition
Scene: Harrison St. between 3rd and 4th, 10 a.m. A white guy and two Asian girls are walking, coffee in hand, presumably back to work in their cubicles and what-have-you. “Huh,” says the guy, reading the sign on a building as they pass, “Bellagio—is that a casino or something?”

“It’s a Korean nightclub,” one of the girls answers.

“Well, why is it a Korean nightclub?” he demands indignantly.

The other girl immediately chimes in: “Because it’s owned by Koreans...”

Then the first girl: “Because they play Korean music...”

Then both together: “Because Koreans go there...”

They laugh, and so do I, at this guy’s implication that he’s being excluded from this club (probably as part of a Korean conspiracy to take away white guys' entertainment options on a Friday night). In fact I wish, and so do they, that I could see Mr. Cubicle resolutely show up some weekend to confront this injustice, and watch as he’s ignored by all the clientele who are too busy clubbing to notice they’re making him feel awkward for not being Korean.

Just another way the Asian-American elite is keepin’ the white man down. We shall overcome, Cube.