/beth wareham

In about three weeks, my book releases. I’ll save the title for it’s explosive debut, but it’s subtitle – AN INTERRACIAL COMEDY – gives you an idea of it’s contents.

In the course of online research, I first needed to understand the competition: There was none. That’s good and bad. Everyone clamors for originality but few in the creativity business –  film studios, publishing companies, museums, etc. – walk the walk.

It tends to be too much of a financial risk in inherently  expensive endeavors. So, let’s just say my book is a cross between The Real Housewives of Beverley Hills and American Gangster. It’s silly cinematic intercourse but I don’t care: All I want you to see is a blonde housewife and Denzel. I’ll take it from there.

Unfortunately, everywhere I go on the internet to investigate “interracial couples,” I end up on a porn site. Not that I mind porn. In fact, interracial porn happens to be my favorite.

These porn sites have sticky little porn things that travel with me and open up in places on the internet usually reserved for my friends, the churchgoers. Suddenly, Aunt Adda was confronted with a black male and a white female engaged in anal intercourse. I feel bad.

Smart internet people tell me how to stop this and I do it and the little sticky porn things find me again, shocking my friends and relatives and making them wonder just what I’ve been up to.

Nothing, Aunt Adda. Nothing. I’m just publishing a book.

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