It’s going to make your eyes water. It’s going to stink. You’re going to get the bubble guts when it happens. Like an opponent with the big joker, Taco Bell diarrhea or a butt-whipping after you dared ask a black mother for name-brand cereal in the supermarket, we all know it’s coming; we just don’t know when.
Donald Trump is going to say “nigger.”
This is not an opinion or a guess. It will happen. As the dim-witted racist in chief slips further into senility, the odds of him blurting out the king of all racial slurs increases tenfold with each passing day. After he tweeted about LaVar Ball’s “ungrateful” son who should’ve been left in jail, referred to Elizabeth Warren as “Pocahontas” and retweeted an Islamophobic meme all in one week, we can feel him getting closer.
The inevitability of this event is based on scientific research straight from Harvard University. (It actually comes from a dude at my barbershop who drives for UPS, but he came to the barber straight from delivering a package to Harvard, so that counts, right?) Instead of simply waiting, we decided to lay betting odds on when the first bigot will say or tweet the word “nigger.”
During the Tax Vote
The Senate is preparing for the floor debate on the tax-overhaul bill that just passed the Senate Budget Committee. The plan stands on the precipice of passing, but if one or two senators defect, it could spell doom. Can you imagine if it explodes the way the American Health Care Act failed, on the floor of the Senate, with a single senator causing it to crash and burn, like John McCain did?
Chances of this happening: 23 percent. For Trump to say the n-word doesn’t necessarily require a black senator casting the deciding vote. I assume “nigger” is the default word for old, angry white men, like when I say “motherfucker” in disgust. Plus, white people often blame their failures on black people when they had nothing to do with it. I can’t explain it. I just know it’s true.
I blame Barack Obama.
If Tom Brady or Ben Roethlisberger Gets Hurt
I have been holding in a secret fantasy for a few months, but I’m ready to reveal it now:
On the second-to-last game of the NFL season, New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady gets blindsided harder than Hillary Clinton on election night, tearing his beautifully formed ball-deflation muscle. He’s out for the season, but with the Patriots solidly ahead in the playoff standings, Bill Belichick signs Colin Kaepernick to lead them through the last game of the season. Kaepernick learns the offense during the bye week and leads New England to its second, consecutive Super Bowl victory.
This scenario also works for the Pittsburgh Steelers, but in that version of my fantasy, Ben Roethlisberger tears his raping tendon.
Chances of this happening: 15 percent. I know it’s a complicated, unlikely scenario because the Patriot and Steeler fan bases are overwhelmingly white, but if there is one thing for which white people are willing to set aside their virulent racism, it is a black man who can help them when they are in desperate need of a win. Hillary Clinton asking Obama for a political endorsement and slavery are two examples that come to mind.
State of the Union
In January, during the State of the Union address, the teleprompter goes down, forcing Trump to speak off-the-cuff. Frustrated by the lack of applause, he digs into the same bag of tricks he uses at his campaign rallies and says something racist. Even fewer people clap. Then, in front of the entire world, he turns to Mike Pence sitting behind him and asks, “What’s wrong with these niggers?”
Pence smiles blankly.
Chances of this happening: 43 percent. It all depends on the teleprompter-dismantling class I signed up for at the local community college.
Not next Tuesday, but this Tuesday. I still get a little confused by what people mean when they say “next Tuesday,” but let’s not get bogged down in the details.
My point is, Trump wakes up one morning and finds out he has run out of the spray paint used only by road crews and the presidential makeup artist to apply his self-tanner. One of his aides forgets to turn his television to Fox News, and he somehow lands on Roland Martin’s show, with Martin asking questions relevant to black America on NewsOne Now. Discombobulated, Trump tweets, “Where is Shep Smith, and who is this nigger in the ascot?”
Chances of this happening: 29 percent. I’m not sure the White House has TV One, but I’ve read about highway workers complaining that the national supply of Krylon Safety Orange spray paint is running low, and Trump hasn’t done anything about infrastructure.
After a round of golf, Trump invites a group of distinguished black leaders over for dinner, including Steve Harvey, Ray Lewis, Ben Carson, Omarosa Manigault, Floyd Mayweather and Sheriff David Clarke. Halfway through the meal of fried chicken, collard greens and watermelon tea, the table gets very quiet.
Trump pauses, looks around and asks with all sincerity, “Can I say it?”
Everyone knows what he means, and they are all cool with it.
Chances of this happening: 72 percent. You know those niggas.
Kim Jong Un fires an intercontinental ballistic missile at the U.S., and Trump screams it as his last dying wish: 31 percent chance.
Something happens in Chicago, and he says it: 19 percent chance.
Michelle Obama announces her candidacy for president, and Trump has to debate her: 86 percent chance.
White supremacists have rally bigger than Charlottesville, Va., and someone asks Trump to condemn it: 91 percent chance.
Kamala Harris announces her candidacy for president, and Trump has to debate her: 96 percent chance.
Just because: 99 percent chance.