… it’s me—John Stevens. I’m the boss as the feed warehouse where that guy on the left works.
… and it’s me—Randy Ott. I’m the boss at the accounting firm where that guy in the middle works.
… and it’s me—Malik Lewis. I’m the boss at the pharmacy where that guy on the right works.
… and it’s me—Candace Cohen. I’m the boss at the AT&T store where that guy with the mustache works.
… and it’s me—Hillary Chen. I’m the dean at the college where that kid in the plaid shirt attends.
Yup, it’s us. And, as a group, we’d like to say: You’re fired. Expelled. Dumped. Kicked to the curb, like a bunch of low-level racist asswipes.
Did you not think we’d recognize your faces? Did you not think this would get out? You know we have black customers, right? Oh, and Jewish ones, too. A couple of Asians even. Soooo … you’d probably have to agree they don’t really want to frequent businesses staffed by white supremacists. It’s funny how that works.
Say what you want about the pre-Donald Trump KKK—at least they were smart enough to wear hoods. You guys … look at you, marching around like you’re living in 1928 Virginia. You know we have iPhones, right? And TVs? Your faces are everywhere. You’re embarrassments to the world.
So, again, you’re fired.
Go sell your bullshit elsewhere.