Raul Drops The N-Bomb

Frustration can lead to a lot of shit. Psychological abuse compounded by years of sexual frustration can cause a man to become a serial killer. A young girl being shown little to no affection by her step-father can cause her to become a stripper who gives the occasional blow job. Raul Felix being tormented constantly by a fellow soldier about his shitty basketball skills can cause him to yell out nigger in a bus full of people.

Prior to deploying to Afghanistan, we had to conduct a painfully long process called SRP. An acronym whose meaning I never learned nor cared to learn. It probably stands for Sucking Raging Penis or Serious Rectal Pummeling. During this process, you have do all sorts of paperwork about your will, medical records, pay, power of attorney, next of kin, and other logistical crap to make sure that when you deploy, your records are not fucked up. Being a single, childless 20 year old whose only assets consisted of a beat up 1986 F-150, 20 gigabytes of porn, and $3000 worth of credit card debt, it was a relatively speedy process for me. I boarded the bus and waited for the others to finish.

Earlier that morning, my squad decided to play basketball for our morning physical training. I may be 6’2” and athletic, but I’m severally lacking in the coordination, talent, and skill needed to play basketball in way that doesn’t resemble old people fucking. I probably made one shot, if that, the whole game. Throughout the whole farce, my half black half mexican Ranger buddy “Resident” was talking smack on my pathetic b-ball ability. Once the game was over, I thought that would be the end of it.

I’ve been wrong before and I was wrong this time. As I’m sitting on the bus, being my young, sweet, and innocent self; Resident hops on.

Resident: “You suck so bad, Felix.”

Raul: “Fuck you.”

Resident: “Like, really, you’re just plain terrible. This is how you look.” He then begins to mimic my disgraceful shot form in slow motion while sticking his tongue out.

Raul: “Fine. Whatever. I don’t care.” I attempt to end the subject. I’ll give you a little insight into men: when we find something that we can use against another man, especially one we know well, we’ll exploit it. We’ll drive it so deeply into their skin that it will pierce their soul.

Resident continued his verbal assaults on my lackluster performance. Laughing, boisterous in fact, that he was pissing me off. I begin shaking, I can’t take this shit anymore, not from him!



The bus once filled with the ambient conversations of soldiers, now stood still, crickets chirping, and had all eyes focused on Resident and I.

One-second: He and I are locking eyes. He was dumbfounded that I so bluntly said it, in fact, so was I.

Two-seconds: Still locking eyes, I clench my fists and prepare myself to get into a fight. A little backstory on Resident: he looks like Malcolm X, has angry young black man syndrome, and grew up in some shit hole neighborhood in Houston, Texas.

Three-seconds: Resident begins to show his pearly white teeth and starts laughing. Interracial violence averted, America.

Resident: “You just said… it’s a nigger sport…” he laughs uncontrollably. Just then, another one of the black dudes from my company boards the bus who missed the scene. “Felix! Tell Bee what you just said.”

Raul: “No.”

Resident: “Come on… say it.”

Raul: “Basketball is a nigger sport.” I say reluctantly.

Resident repeats this process with a few other black guys in our company. All them just shook their heads and laughed.

That should have been the end of it right? If you didn’t know, soldiers are bigger gossips than college girls in a sorority after the big Spring Rush Hootenanny. Eventually, the Company Commander and First Sergeant got wind of it.

We were told the following day during morning formation that we were going to have an Equal Opportunity Briefing at 0930.

“Staff Sergeant S” was in put in charge of giving the breif and started with this.

SSG S: “I bet you’re wondering why we are having this briefing. It’s because Felix said something fucking stupid on the bus yesterday.”

Everyone pauses and looks at me.

SSG S: “What did you say, Felix?”

Raul: “Something racist, Sergeant.”

SSG S: “I know Felix isn’t god damn racist. But, thanks to him, the First Sergeant wants me to reinforce to all of you why don’t say or use racial slurs in the Army.”

He then went on to give the standard Army propaganda about how racism undermines the cohesiveness of an effective fighting force. It compromises the esprit de corps of the Regiment and can lead to being punished by the Universal Code of Military Justice. Essentially, telling us to love each other and live in racial harmony since we all bleed red.

As I think back on it, it’s one of my personal favorite moments. My obscene mouth caused my company to have an Equal Opportunity Briefing, now that’s something you can hang your hat on.

~Raul Felix

You are insensitive and must now read this: Every Race is Worthless

Politically Incorrect and Loving It

“I’d rape the living shit out of her,” is what comes out of my mouth when I see a hot chick walking down the street wearing some rather provocative clothing that causes my dick to bulge. I forget that phrase isn’t quite socially acceptable in the setting of a polite society. A feminist will probably say I’m encouraging rape culture just by uttering those words. Because of those words, I have shown that women are still being discriminated against and are being judged by misogynistic males, such as myself. That now I am directly responsible for any rapes that may occur because of it. Maybe I should say something along of the lines of “I find that female highly attractive, while I find her fashion of dress extremely alluring, it doesn’t give me the right to think I am entitled to have sex with her. I would, if given the opportunity, engage in consensual sexual intercourse that she, at any moment, has the right to stop.” Then I will be balls deep in politically correct pussy.

Maybe my mind has been warped by spending the formative years of my youth in the Army. Not just the Army, but in a combat arms unit full of solely males with too much testosterone, vanity, angst, and bloodlust. A place where “Fuck” and its many different variations is used more often than “the” and “a”. A place where being miserable, hating your life, being over worked and under paid is standard operating procedure. A place where going to war again and again is a fact of life. A place where being politically correct will get you eaten alive faster than a prepubescent girl at a pedophile convention. If you want that politically correct bull shit, go down the street to that support battalion full of females waiting to slam you with a sexual harassment charge.

I forget that most people don’t understand the uniquely vulgar and fucked sense of humor you acquire from just being a man with only men to talk to. A group of men who you tell the intricate details of the women you fuck, drunken and drug infused hijinks, the fights you were in, missions you were in, and the fucked up shit in your life. Most people spend their employment hours in politically correct bubbles where the most exciting conversation at the water cooler is that Cindi may have gone on a date with Brandon and how that’s against company fraternization policy.

I have devolved into an eloquent baboon. Nothing I say or think, as hard as I try, can be completely politically correct. I have lost that sense and probably need to take a women studies and cultural sensitivity class. While I do say those rapist words, I really don’t mean them. I mean I would just like to her fuck her brains out while pulling her hair, biting her neck, and spanking her ass raw, consensually of course. A woman with a college degree who is attractive, intelligent, and fast tracking through the corporate ladder can never simply be that. More likely she’s, “That smart ass bitch with a degree, total dick sucking lips, and amazing ass. She’s a fucking director at some company or some shit.” I can never ride my motorcycle through the Little Saigon area of Orange County without being terrified that some Vietnamese with shitty driving skills isn’t going to run me over. I can never look at a retard or a dead chick story on the news without thinking of the Ranger S&M Man song:

Who can take a retard,
7 stories high,
give him hits of acid,
then tell him he can fly

The S&M man, the S&M man,
the S&M man cause he mixes it with love
and makes the hurt feel good, makes the hurt feel good

Who can take a dead chick,
break into her tomb,
stab her in the gut,
then fuck the bloody womb

The S&M man, the S&M man,
the S&M man cause he mixes it with love
and makes the hurt feel good, makes the hurt feel good

Catchy ain’t it? The most horrid thing is that I’m laughing writing about that. Does that mean that I am waste of human flesh that should’ve ended up as a pearl neckless on my mother’s neck instead of being conceived and raised to be the insensitive man-child I am today? Probably. How dare I have a sense of humor that isn’t in line with a pre-approved list of acceptable subjects to laugh at? I made a sexist a joke. Oh fuck, I just punched the woman’s right movement in its clit and sent it back five years. A racist joke. Holy fuck, Martin Luther King Jr. is resurrecting from the grave and about to give me a stern talking to about judging a person by the content of their character and not the color of their skin. Oh right, I have to be sensitive, because some peoples ego’s are so fragile that whatever little hint of criticism will send them spiraling into oblivion. I guess my first amendment rights don’t apply if they hurt your feelings.

Negro Community

I may be a lost cause for political correctness. I should probably do something about it before the baboon mind completely takes hold irrevocably. I got an idea. I’ll apply to a liberal arts college, I’ll make sure to put in my latino status on the FAFSA and give a good sob story on my essay about how I powered through adversity despite my poor Mexican roots. Once accepted, I’ll major in political science because instead of spending tens of thousands dollars on a real degree, I’ll just waste it on a major that teaches you in four years what you could learn by watching the Discovery and History Channel in a week. Then I will join various clubs and groups that empathize political protests and being politically correct. My peers will be a bunch of girls with hair on their armpits and boys who shave their armpits. I will then talk about how passionate I am about women’s rights or the ozone layer, depending which nets me the most liberated, feminist pussy that particular week. I will also spend a semester studying abroad to some place like Italy. I’ll bring it up in every conversation for the next two years and talk about how it changed me to my very core, when in reality, I just got drunk with my fellow study abroad students and banged two Italian chicks. Then, I will graduate, move to Portland, and say I’m an artist but never work on my craft. I’ll have pseudo-intellectual conversations with my fellow barista’s and customers. I will act like I’m too good for my little $9 an hour gig and hold it in contempt because I have a college education.

Cultured as fuck, mother fucker!

Cultured as fuck, mother fucker!

Or maybe, I can actually have a sense of humor and not give a fuck if I offend you. Maybe I’ll just live life on my own terms and decide what is proper to say and do and what isn’t on my own accord. Maybe, instead of hanging with someone because they are a certain race and thus will show I am not racist by having them as friend, I’ll hang with someone of a different race because I actually like them. Maybe, instead of worrying about who I offend and may not like me and delete me from their Facebook, I be myself and attract the kind of people who get me and like me for who I am. Maybe, when I travel, I will accept it for what it is: Seeing a bunch of pretty things during the day and getting so drunk you forget about it at night. Maybe, when I go to a coffee shop to write, I won’t make pseudo-intellectual conversation with anyone, and instead, shut the fuck up and actually work on my writing about my unreasonable lust of women. Speaking of which, there is a pretty cute chick sitting on the other side of the coffee shop. Man, I would rape the living shit out of her.

~Raul Felix

“You offended me! I demand to see your editor!” No, fuck you and read: Every Race is Worthless

Every Race is Worthless






Even though I haven't lost touch with my roots.

Even though I haven’t lost touch with my roots.









~Raul Felix

Don’t Miss: Inch by Inch.