How I know I’m Not a Racist

I have a black friend and he doesn’t think I’m racist… I guess… we don’t talk much.

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Because Africa is the country I’d most like to visit.

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Because I almost never do that thing where I stretch my eyes with my fingers and sing, “I’m a rittre china-boy”… just at weddings and children’s birthday parties.

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Because I don’t see color. I was SHOCKED when someone explained to me that the Blue Man Group were actually blue… and popular.

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I don’t see non-whites as ethically inferior. I’m sure that just as many whites go to White Person Hell as non-whites go to the separate but equal Brown Persons’ Hell.

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I’ll happily rent out my home to any non-white person provided their credit rating is good and they can spin straw into gold.

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I’ve never dated a non-white woman but I spent six months stalking a Chinese exchange student. That has to count for SOMETHING!

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I threw away my copy of The Bell Curve, partly because of its racist message and partly because, one hundred pages into it and NO BELLS.

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If I were a racist, I’d have to reject that part of me that isn’t white and that part might be a kidney.

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Racists hate people who are different than they are. I hate people who are the same as me because WE ARE SO LAME!