Go 'head Uncle Ben. Our friendly rice man by-passed the mailroom and is now the CEO of his entire corporation. Oh yes, he's got his own cushy office where mere mortals like ourselves can go snoop around all the stuff on his desk, with just a couple clicks of the mouse. Some might find his new role rather offensive, but think it's a trip. Those notes he jots down in that leather bound journal of his had me dying.
So now I'd like to motion that we give Aunt Jemima a promotion too. Not from mammy to receptionist, mind you; I want to see the flapjack genius break the glass ceiling. And once she does, let's subtly convince her to grow out the relaxer and start sporting some locs like B. Smith, who's recently agreed to hook Betty Crocker up with some of her marketing.
And then, lets slip Uncle Ben Aunt Jemima's cell phone number. I know they haven't always gotten along so well, but that was a long time ago. Besides, they've got so much in common... I'd hate to see old boy go and try to seduce Betty (and get accused of sexual harrassment) when his perfect match is sitting right beneath his nose. I'm not saying she's a gold digger, but Aunt Jemima would be happy for an evening out with the successful brother. Slaves need love too. We'll have to figure out what to do about that Jet Magazine wedding announcement though, considering neither one of them has a last name.
Oh well, I guess we can't have everything.