Skinheads are scary. They’re angry, paranoid, racist, violent and—most likely—impotent. I think skinheads do exactly what they’re supposed to do: They scare the poop out of you. I’ve never been around one to the point where it could be called “hanging out,” though I admit that would sound hilarious to friends.
“The other day I saw Matt Champagne hanging out with a skinhead.”
Not giving directions to, not arguing with, not running from. Hanging out with. Never done that. Never hung out with a skinhead. From looking at me, most people can’t tell I’m half-Mexican. But I bet a skinhead could. Right away. I do appreciate a well-designed piñata, and if I walk past one or see a group of happy kids beating the hell out of one (especially then), I’ll do a double-take, stop and watch, participate if they’ll let me. And if I even think fidejo might be in the vicinity, I’m gonna drop whatever I’m doing and eat it, especially if whatever I’m doing is the unlikely pastime of hanging out with a skinhead. The skinhead’s gonna pick up on my penchant for warm Mexican food and immediately know something’s up with my racial heritage. It’d be great if skinheads talked like that too. “Hey. Something’s up with your racial heritage.” And before I can say “The Amazing Race,” I got a neo-Nazi named Shawn with tattooed teeth up in my half-Mexican face, asking me why the hell don’t I go back to Half-Mexico.
But there’s one particular instance when a skinhead is not at all scary. And that’s when he’s having a sneezing fit. No one can be scary when they’re having a sneezing fit. Especially one of those one-right-after-the-other ones.
“I have traced back my bloodline for nine generations so I know for a fact that I am one hundred percent white. And I’m telling you that unless we do something about the way the races are mixing in this na…na…oh my god…AAAA-CHOOO! A-CHOO, A-CHOO, A-CHOO! Excuse me, pardon me, I’m so sorry. Anyway, there is no doubt gonna be a race war in this country and I am not the only one ready for it, I can tell you…that…oh no, hold on…A-CHOO, A-CHOO, A-CHOO! Woa. Allergies, right? Maybe I’m coming down with something. Like immigrants! Right? Ha, ha, ha…ha, wait a minute…A-CHOO, A-CHOO, A-CHOO! Shit. You’re not losing the sense that I’m mad, are you?”