While driving past some burger joint’s parking lot, I spotted my cousin, Loquacious “Lo-Jack” Jackson putting a serious smackdown on the proverbial “burger of shame.” Just grubbing in his car like no one could see him.

His fictitious face had that mixed bag of emotions that told me he was deeply disturbed and in need of some emotional support. It was the kind of moment we were taught to suffer in seclusion in our family. This public cry for help just won’t do.

“I have to give you two blows for flinching at life like this, big cousin,” I told him.

That massive bacon-cheeseburger with all the fixings was snuggling him in its soothing warm embrace. He was seeking comfort, a brief respite from some unseen turmoil. Lo never lets himself display this kind of vulnerability. This is a moment I had to exploit.

I rolled up on him like O-Dog in Menace II Society. He had condiments all over his grill as if he were making a dirty movie with The Hamburglar and his window was down. It was perfect!

“What up, Cuz!”

“Boy, you better be careful! Running up on me like that is a good way to get an exit wound and a toe tag. Best approach me with more caution.”

“Look at your big, greasy, hungry butt, Cuzzo! What on this earth could have driven you to these depths? You’re obviously facing some tough questions. Let me assure you, the answers are not in that burger. Pull it together man and for God’s sake clean your face!”

“You call yourself mocking me? Don’t forget the way you whimpered and whined endlessly during the COVID years.”

“Come on now. Bringing up COVID? That’s just dirty.”

“Didn’t you say you were having nightmares? Waking up shivering like a little girl? You didn’t even take care of that many COVID patients. You’re just a whining, complaining man-baby.”

“Wait a minute! You’re not gonna make this about me. I watched you sitting there about to bust out crying just now. You were losing it!”

“I bet you’re still broken up over the Minnesota Vikings meltdown. You’re a sensitive man.”

“Why are you bringing up the Vikings? Okay okay. We were both raised to believe that men aren’t supposed to be crybabies and should fight their own battles in life. Better to be dead than be a punk, right? Be a real man! That’s what we learned on the streets.”

“I learned how to be a man in the Marines. You? Well … you are what you are — kinda arrogant, a little pretentious. Real men don’t bully or strut. They don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Besides, you spent more time in the library than in the streets.”

“Maybe I did, but you gotta admit that there is a cultural thing around being tough, hard or whatever you want to call it. All that hot music from Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, Tupac and Biggie made it worse. Those songs fostered a kind of aggression that has never served anyone very well.”

“American capitalism always buys out the subversives. Tupac brought a unique understanding to an entire generation of the true essence of Blackness. Rap these days is just about being seen and getting rich. All that matters is pursuing the C.R.E.A.M. even if it means selling your soul to some creep like Diddy.”

“My declining years have led me to believe very strongly that any path that leads to righteousness must include the path of peace. It is hard to listen to that music anymore because I’ve already witnessed enough violence. I’m going to try to love everyone!”

“I raised my boys to understand that this world runs on violence. Weak scrubs like you won’t survive when it all falls apart. We will shelter your wife and kids and I might give you a weapon to use if you beg, but you will be on your own.”

“Your family is not a platoon! I bet your wife prays every night for the Lord to take you in your sleep. When that woman gets to heaven, they are going to give her a standing ovation for putting up with all your drills and training crap.”

“Earleatha Pearline Jackson and my sons are none of your business, mister. Our family is trained and disciplined. We will protect what belongs to us with force.”

“That is all about you. It’s your personal power-grab wet dream, where you battle some invisible peril only you can defeat. People like you can never escape that fear before it defines your life and justifies your paranoid delusions. The worst evils originate from that kind of fear.”

“You’re my family and I’m willing to let you die like an animal. Know why? Because the world doesn’t need any more clever, witty types. Families who know how to fire from defilade as a unit and how to kill things with knives can survive anything. My family can do that — as a unit.”

“Well, I still believe that fear is the enemy of faith. A stockpile of guns is emblematic of that fear. You will never be able to have enough firepower to escape it.”

“There will be less fear once our communities start to form militias to police and patrol their own streets. Then we will be on to something.”

“You’ll be on to something like the Gestapo or SS.”

“The police are either corrupt or incompetent. They oppose reasonable, more humane reforms. It looks like more local control is how most of America wants it.”

“That thinking will pour Miracle Grow on radical extremism. Within a decade, here, in America, the streets would run red with blood. Why aren’t more people worried about what that looks like?”

“People like you do not want to accept that things are never going back to the way they were. This is the world we have now. You’re still hoping your White, lefty friends will come to your rescue. Chaos truly can be a ladder if you are prepared for it.”

“The world is filled with people who have been falling apart since COVID. Emotional turmoil is making people erratic and aggressive. No one likes change. Literally everything is changing for the second time in five years. The future is uncertain. Most people are not dealing with it well.”

“You should talk to someone about what you went through with COVID. Get help, man. It is dealing with you in ways you don’t even understand and you’re already a neurotic pain in the neck. Try not to get worse!”

“I’m going to need you to disclose the event that forced you to seek a glorious Dexter-like release from that E Coli-ridden slobberfest I witnessed. Inquiring minds need to know.”

“Know what? I’m going to tell you the truth even though I’m sure I will regret it.”

“Out with it you villainous rogue!”

“Well, Earleatha ordered those French deals on the new toilets we had installed. They’re called bidets, see? She’s been sweating me to try it and I wasn’t quite prepared for the …”

“Did it speak to your inner child when you baptized your booty?”

“My inner child hates you.”

“We should explore that next week in the Burger Shack parking lot.”