Vicksburg Mississippi 1982 and now 2013. nothing changed-fathers have taught their children the ignorant children taught their hapless children, a bleak merry-go-round well oiled with hatred. 1982 Mississippi Queen Cruisliner docks on the shallow-sandy bank of the murky-lazy Mississippi, the grandest of old rivers. Fonzi and 2 other waiters enthusiastically run down the plank, a glorious hour of freedom, an escape from the stifling steamboat. within a few minutes enter a run-down-storm beaten shack, looked like a “juke-joint,” but they knew better...they didn’t care, just wanted a few cold long-necked Buds is all. a good ol’boy stands behind the bar 50ish with a southern paunch belly and KKK imbedded in the irises of his eyes, unwillingly gets them 3-beers Fonzi hears an unfamiliar wooden knock, tap, tap, tap. good ol’boy frowns, and looks directly into Fonzies tired eyes, then sauternes to the far side of the bar: slides a 2 by 2 hard-wooden-window to the right, as if he is letting evil-demonic spirits in. a thin deep-black arm appears, and extends with a hand clutching 2-one dollar bills, good ol’boy grunts, snaps the 2 dollars, grabs a long-necked Bud, slams it into the fragile hand, and quickly slides the wooden-window shut. ain’t no discrimination down here, we follow all those anti-discrimination laws, ain’t no Jim Crow no more, can’t ya see, ya stupid college-educated Negro boys. ***