Poke Espera and the White Man: A Tale of Oppression
Espera: No, no no, Brad. You cannot say that you like Pocahontas. The genocide of my people is turned into a cartoon musical? With a singing raccoon? I mean, think about it, Dog. The real story of Pocahontas is about a bunch of white boys who come to my land, bribe the corrupt Indian chief, kill off all the warriors and fuck the Indian princess silly. Would the white man make a story about Auschwitz, where the inmate falls in love with the guard and they go off singing love songs with dancing swastikas?
Trombley: My great grandfather killed Indians. Up in Michigan. For money.
Espera: Trombley, you are the first white motherfucker to say something like that to me. Back in the fishing village where I’m from, Los Angeles, most white motherfuckers that talk about their people, they say they got a Native American ancestor. Pretend to be down with me. But here you are coming the other way.
Colbert: Poke, what the fuck are you anyway? Your wife is half white, you talk like you’re black, most of your friends are fucking white, and every once in a while, when you feel like it, you throw in with the Indians. Is it just that you’re whatever race happens to be cool at the moment?
Espera: You got a point, dog. I don’t hang out with Mexicans. Mexicans got $20,000 stereos, lots of guns. Every time I go into a liquor store with one, I’m afraid we’re gonna rob the place. Mexicans are scary motherfuckers.
Ray Ray: What the fuck does any of this have to do with jerking off?