You know that when you look at me you are looking at the original woman. After all, this DNA goes back way further than your pale dick & pale-b l o o d e d DNA. So, of course, you find yourself wanting to worship the original woman. Wanting to serve her is your goal. But you're a shy, colonialized brainwashed white boy, afraid to approach. I notice you staring at me super hard. It's really starting to bother me. So, I ask, "What do you want to do, lick my feet? You're staring so hard it looks like you want to confess your love for me. It's a weird white stare." I notice the look on your face, it's red. You whites get red when nervous. I know that I have got you now. I ask you if you want to massage my feet with oil and repeat chants I give to you. Of course, you don't decline. At the end of it all, I have taken your credit cards and bought myself lots of shiny new things, courtesy of white boy weakness.