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frenchslamIf I could dunk on anyone it would be Germany.

Sure you might think I want to dunk on England what with all of their victories over us in literally dozens of wars.  Or perhaps America because of our historical rivalry, but that’s more like good natured ribbing than a real deal feud.  Nope, there is no doubt that I would totally slam it down on Germany.

France, of course, is no stranger to getting dunked on.  Vince Carter, The Seven Years War, Haiti, the list literally goes on forever. But the worst dunking ever was when Hitler and Germany dunked all over us during World War II.

Now, normally getting dunked on sucks if you are trying to defend the hoop.  But in World War II we were like Nancy Reagan when Spud Webb dunked over her at the 1986 All-Star game-we weren’t trying to stop them, we were just sort of in the way.  But unlike Nancy Reagan, we didn’t want to get dunked on.

The shame has never gone away, and the only way to get rid of it is to peel off a dunk of epic proportions.  And if you know anything about France, you know there is only one location for a proper slam: Alsace-Lorraine.

We would trick Germany into coming by telling them that our Army was on vacation for the month of August (which is true) and that they could invade and get access to the sweet potassium reserves in the region.

Then they would roll up and, uh oh, we’re already there wearing sweet basketball uniforms made out of French Flags.  That’s how you know we mean business.  If we were wearing striped sweaters, you would know that we mean pleasure.

Upon seeing our uniforms, Germany would immediately try to turn around but would find combined American and British forces waiting by the border with their arms crossed.  No way are you backing out of this one.

Then out of nowhere Belgium would do a sweet behind the back pass to us and we would start dribbling slowly.  Germany would be saying stuff like “we don’t have the right shoes, this doesn’t count” and “Dirk Nowitizki isn’t here, we can’t play.”  But we wouldn’t be hearing it because first they would say it in German, then in English and guess what? We don’t speak either.  Today we only speak one language: sick hops.  We’re talking jumping, not the crop, though truth be told, the Alsace region does grow some of the best hops on earth.  It is but one of the natural resources that makes the region such a prize.

As soon as Germany realizes that the dunk is going to happen, they drop the peaceful facade and prepare for conflict.  That is to say, they put on those pointy helmets from World War One.  We are forced to adjust our plans and make sure that our dunk clears their head by a good ten inches, or else our delicate French testicles could be in serious trouble.

Just to be safe we decide it’s probably best to alley oop this one, so we pass the ball off to Luxembourg.  Sensing weakness, Germany goes straight for Luxembourg thinking that they can get a cheap steal.  Big Mistake.

As soon as they make a break for the ball, Luxembourg throws up a perfect alley oop pass.  Germany quickly tries to get back into position but it’s too late, we have already cleared their pointy helmet and are headed straight for the net with both hands on the ball.

But we can’t celebrate yet.  The dunk is not complete yet and Germany didn’t fight two world wars so they could allow easy buckets.  Once they’ve realized that there is no chance for a blocked shot they go for the hard foul.  But then, out of nowhere they are rocked with a SUPER hard pick from the Czech Republic.

We finish the dunk, but don’t dunk too hard since the backboard is made out of stained glass that took 3 years to make and cost our government almost a billion dollars.

France is a country whose metropolitan territory is located in Western Europe and that also comprises various overseas islands and territories located in other continents.

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dunking-dreams-other-head2If I could dunk on anyone, it would be the ridiculously happy white Obama supporters I’m surrounded by in New York City.

I would put a hoop right above the door to a yoga studio. Then I would wait. At the first whiff of fair trade coffee, at the slightest wail of world music, the mere sight of a guy in dance pants, it’s Boom Shaka-laka! But these are special folk and that’s why they get special dunks. I’m going to dunk on them dressed as Obama, in half-black face, while screaming “Race War!” It’ll be like Soul Man 2: The Reckoning.

C. Thomas Howell warned you about the dangers of half-black face and you didn’t listen. After my dunk you’ll never ignore the work of C. Thomas Howell again.

That’s right you soy cheese balls, it was all a setup, now that Obama is in-charge, the race war is going to begin. It’ll be their worst nightmare. Yes, worse than someone thinking they’re racist.

They’ll say, “Why are you doing this? We celebrate Multiculturalism in our home.” And that’s when they get some serious Mandingo dick to the dome. “Yes We Can…Get Dunked On.” There will be no hope, just inescapable, repeating Tomahawk dunks.

The more tolerant they act, the worse the dunks get. If after the first vicious dunk they say, “Yeah I guess I deserved it after all my people did to yours.” That’s when my friends come out, because one man a race war does not make. They’re all in half-black face, each dressed as a different guilt easing hero: Tiger Woods, Will Smith, every member of the Black Eyed Peas.

“Did I just hear thunder?” Nope. That’s just the sound of non-threatening black sacs slapping some Free Tibet face. We’re going to be dunking without pants on. This NPR donor is going to see more black balls than a Jew trying to join an Elks lodge.

It’s going to be a mocha colored melée, and Bryant Gumble is going to narrate. “Mos Def is wide open, but Tiger drives to the lane. The honky in skinny jeans just seems to be standing there. It’s like he’s waiting for an autograph? Tiger drops his shoulder…and the vegan hits the floor hard. A MoveOn.org button goes flying. Woods pulls up, and…It’s an Alley Oop for Obama. Oh! The President Of All Blacks, P.O.A.B., has shattered the backboard. And whats this, Rihanna is taking a shit on a Prius for good measure.  This race war is a blowout.”

No longer will they associate that light brown color with their precious lattes, and actors who they are glad won the Oscar, it will be the color of fear. Long live the Suede Terror. All Hail the Kahlua-minatti!

We will travel the country dunking on white people, you know, like the Harlem Globetrotters…but if they raped the Washington Generals.

I promise where ever there are tolerant whites there will be racially hateful dunks. We will windmill dunk on them at Vintage Clothing stores. We will reverse jam on them at Coldplay concerts. I, personally, will take off from the foul line and throw down right on top of two lesbians and their adopted Asian baby. We will do iDunks, dunks that just destroy Apple products.  Paninis will go half eaten, Capoiera will go unpracticed, Eco-Tours of Costa Rica will turn into horrible dunk massacres.

We will keep dunking in black face until America does an about-face. We will dunk until liberals stop looking down on the people just because they’re from the South. We will dunk until people stop laughing at Cedric the Entertainer. We will dunk until everyone stops thinking just because a guy looks different the whole system will change. And I myself will dunk till my taint bleeds from all the uppity white noses it’s been dragged along. Dunked on at last! Thank God all mighty, they will be dunked on at last!

Dan Goodman is a standup comic living in Brooklyn.