Read Episode 2 Part 1 here.
On the plane, Herman Cain began drinking. He looked at me red eyed and spouted, "Listen niggahead, I like you, you're alright," and winked at me. I feigned a smile. I've always felt uncomfortable around drunk people.
Herman Cain slept off the liquor and woke up sober when we arrived in Boise, Idaho. There we were going to start the process of implementing Herman Cain's Nein-Nein-Nein Plan in order to halt the epidemic of evangelicals converting to Judaism, thus giving my arch-nemesis- former Jewish parody rapper turned Jew-for-Jesus singer- 50 Shekel increasing power.
We opened a new fast food restaurant in Boise. We called it McDonawitz's. Herman Cain took care of the restaurant part of it; I took care of the Jewish part of it. Our big hit was the McRibawitz, a boneless rib sandwich made entirely of pork and iceberg lettuce. We also served the Hamboygeh, which was a pork hamburger. For breakfast, we offered bacon and sausage on a bagel sandwiches called McBagelwitzes. You could get a chappy meal for your kid that included a mini pork chop sandwich with a dreidel and gelt.
The new Jews of Boise ate it up, quite literally. We gave half-price specials on Friday nights and Saturdays through GroupOn, so most of the Jewish converts of Boise would be eating their pork products from McDonawitz's and watching the new channel, Jewish Entertainment Television or JET (we just couldn't think of a word that started with W that made sense. We really tried). Jackie Mason marathons ran from sundown on Friday until sundown Saturday, ensuring that no Jew in Boise honored Shabbat; they were too busy watching television.
We had implemented two parts of Herman Cain's plan and it was working swimmingly. But we still needed to get sexy people to move to the community so that these converted Jews would covet thy neighbors.
"David, I just can't think of a way to lure attractive people to Boise," Herman Cain was pensive, "Can you, my niggahead?" He always smiled when he used that last word. It was freeing to him. But it made me uneasy. I tried to ignore it. I told myself that Herman Cain has every right to use that word. He's not using it in a derogatory way. I shouldn't let it bother me.
"I can't think of anything either." Herman Cain leaned forward and put his arm around my shoulders, "Niggahead, we gotsta think of something." I felt I should confront Herman Cain and ask him to stop using that word. But did I have the right to? I was focusing more on that word than on trying to solve our problem. I was consumed by the ugliness of the word. Through use of it, Herman Cain held all of the power. I decided something needed to be said.
"Excuse me, Mr. Cain?"
"I was wondering if you could stop saying that word. It makes me uncomfortable."
"What word is that, David?"
"Um. Well. Uh. The name of Rick Perry's hunting grounds."
Herman Cain's face lit up. A smirk covered it entirely. "I know that you are refraining from saying that word," he began, "So I am going to say what the word was. The name of the place was called Niggahead." The last word rolled off his tongue with the ease of first grade math.
"Yes, that's the word. It makes me uncomfortable." Herman Cain set his eyes on me for what felt like days. Then, suddenly, he shrugged and said, "Whateva, niggahead."
With that "settled," we went back to thinking of a way to attract those sexy potential neighbors to Boise. It was Herman Cain who finally came up with the idea. "I have a plan. It is based on the Chilean model." Again with the Chilean model, I thought. "We create an ad with your face on it, David, claiming that you are looking for that special woman and you live in Boise. The sexy women will flood into town." I thought about his plan and wondered how that was possibly "based on Chilean model." Maybe Herman Cain just thought "the Chilean model" was a figure of speech.
"It's a good plan. It can't fail. Every sexy woman wants to be with me and is willing to uproot their life to have that chance. But one problem Mr. Cain. How do we attract sexy men? We want the women converts to covet their neighbors too."
"Ah niggahead, good point. I have got it covered. When the sexy women move to Boise, naturally sexy men will follow."
Everything worked just as we had hoped. Sexy women and then sexy men moved to town. Soon, neighbors were being coveted like the fat kid on a desert island after the food supply has run out. Between the all-pork diet, the eschewing Shabbat for Jackie Mason marathons, and the coveting, the Jewish converts of Boise were losing their link to Judaism.
But 50 Shekel still had a number of other communities within his orbit. We were far from finished. So we assembled a team of economic experts. It was a secret team; we didn't tell anybody who was a member of the team, but there was a team. It existed. I'm telling you, there was a team of economic experts. The team, which existed, devised a plan to mimic our Boise escapade in such places such as Galveston, Texas, Charleston, South Carolina, and Tallahasee, Florida.
Soon McDonawitz's was the fastest growing restaurant in the nation. JET was the highest-rated television station on Friday nights. And the covet-worthy people of America were concentrated in a few pockets across the country. There was a mass wave of re-conversions. 50 Shekel's power base had been smashed.
I woke up drenched in my own semen. 50 Shekel, who continued to put out shitty music, was still irrelevant and always had been. Herman Cain's prospects for the White House, however, were still very real.