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Revolution Televised.pdf

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148 That Nigger’s Crazy<br />

Crazy, Pryor discusses how he used to hang out with the winos on<br />

Sunday mornings when he was avoiding church. He first describes<br />

the wino directing traffic and then goes into a conversation between<br />

the wino and a junkie.<br />

wino: Hey fool, you better slow that car down. God damn, don’t<br />

come drivin’ down through here like you crazy. This is a neighborhood,<br />

this ain’t no residential district. . . . (Singing) Jesus on<br />

my mind. (Talking to himself) Damn, nigger, I know Jesus, I remember<br />

when the boy got kill’t, that’s for real, man. It was on a<br />

Friday down at the railroad depot. . . . (Seeing the junkie) Look<br />

at that nigger, look at him in the middle of the street, junkie<br />

motherfucker, look at that. Nigger used to be a genius! I ain’t<br />

lying, booked the numbers, didn’t need paper or pencil. Now<br />

that nigger can’t remember who he is. (Speaking to the junkie)<br />

Say, nigger, get your ass out the street, boy. (He whistles.) Move<br />

out the way, boy.<br />

junkie: Wha’s happenin’!!!! Wha’s happenin’—shit, I know somethin’<br />

happenin’ ’cause everything’s movin’. . . . Hey pops, you<br />

got anything on you?<br />

wino: Yeah, nigger, I got something for you. . . . I got some advice.<br />

You better lay off that narcotic, nigger, that shit done made you<br />

null and void. I ain’t lying, boy. What’s wrong with you? Why<br />

you don’t straighten up and get a job?<br />

junkie: Get a job? . . . I worked five years in a row when I was<br />

in the joint. Pressin’ them motherfuckin’ license plates. I’m a<br />

license-plate-pressin’ motherfucker. . . . Shit, where a nigger<br />

gonna get a job out here pressin’ license plates? . . . I went to the<br />

unemployment bureau, baby, bitch sittin’ behind the desk, ugly<br />

motherfucker, come tell me, talkin’ about “You have a criminal<br />

record.” I said, “I know that, bitch. . . . I’m a criminal! Just tell<br />

me where I’m gonna get a job.” Ugly bitch—I seen better faces<br />

on an iodine bottle. . . . Bitch made me mad, I vomited and shit<br />

on the floor. . . . I went home, m’dear called me a dog. You dig<br />

that? My father said he don’t want to see me in the vicinity. Just<br />

’cause I stole his television. That’s the politics, baby. I’m sick,<br />

pops. Can you help me? My mind’s thinkin’ about shit I don’t<br />

want to think about. . . . Tell me some ah them ole lies of yours,<br />

make me stop me thinkin’ about the truth. Would you help me?<br />

wino: I’m gonna help you, boy, because I believe you got potential.<br />

That’s right. You don’t know how to deal with the white man—

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