After a brief commerical drama moment, we're back and on the air. Did you miss me? Come'on you know you did?

Steve, an old work colleague, calls me. He's in a hotel nearby, wants to meet for a drink. Funny as Steve, his wife and two kids live only a few streets away. DRAMA! Oh boy, finally someone other me!

Drink in hand, Steve is telling my about his martial problems. A minor spat gone bad, the real problem though never discussed. More drinks and I decide to tell Steve my story, the abbreviated 4 hour version. He leans back, his eyes wide as a saucer, "NO f*cking way!", he exclaims, "You can't be gay, you're one of the straightest guys I know!". Dude, I have discount card from Bed, Bath & Beyond – how else do I prove it. "You can't be gay, you're a Republican, you're a racist, you don't even like gay guys".

Image406 Let me introduce you to my 24 yo brown puppy and the love of my life. But it's the racist comment that hurt. Aren't we all just a little bit racist? I love white Americans who brag about how open they are. They seem to stammer a bit when I ask how many black friends they have? None, ok, how about Latinos? Asians? I'll lean out a bit further, Canadians (they do speak kinda of funny you know)? None. OK so you're not a racist as long as you don't have to hang out with them. Americans have this vision about themselves that rarely reflects the truth.

So I'll freely admit I'm a racist. But it's pretty broad, I basically don't like anybody to start. We have to mutually gain one another's respect. It's then, I don't care about your race, you become a friend. It's that simple.

Mongo here is stressed. Too many layers of sh*t. I'm working the issues, please hold, your call is important.