I knew a guy in the Ku Klux Klan. This is one of my favorite stories to tell, so mahalo for starting this thread.
When I was in college in St. Louis Mo I had a job at a big towing company. We also repoed cars. Most of the vehicles had to get a basic once-over by a mechanic before they got returned.
This company had a guy with the title "lot mechanic" who did all of the maintenance on the trucks, did repairs on repos and managed all the other mechanics, most of whom were black.
This guy was without a doubt the biggest redneck scumbag I have ever seen in my life. He wore a brown carhart jacket every single time I ever saw him. In the summer he would sweat through it. He wore it to the Christmas party. He lived in a trailer in Affton Mo with about 5 dogs underneath it. I know this because I drove him home. His little area was littered with cars in various states of disrepair.
This guy was the best mechanic in the Midwest. He would cut custom wheels off cars in seconds. He did a windshield in minutes. The guy could fix anything. He was amazing. He would help out with funny car drag racing on the weekends and his ultimate goal was to be a NASCAR mechanic.
One day our biggest client, the old Nations Bank, had some representatives out walking around. This guy got upset and started complaining about the "Joosh" which was how he said Jewish. It was very odd, but I just went with it.
Some time later he began to confide in my his dislike for the African Americans we worked with. He would say some really twisted shit. He liked me because "messicans is hard workin" so it was OK. I guess illegal immigration wasn't as big of a deal then.
After a while of listening to him I finally asked why it was he felt this way. He opened his wallet and in the drivers license spot he had a Missouri KKK chapter photo Id.
He wasn't just a regular member either, he was KKK management. His group was called the Supreme Knights of the Ku Klux Clan or something like that. It turns out the KKKs mecca was outside of st. Louis near the intersection of highways K and KK, which is very creative.
I promised not to tell anyone. One day he was in my little office rambling his hatred on the other side of my desk. His dip popped out of his lip. He picked it up and put it back in, but it popped out again. Well, ;he problem was, he had been chewing for so many years, that a hole had worn between his lower lip and his chin.
I drove him to the hospital, in his Chevy Citation. I told everyone while he was gone about the KKK card. It turns out he had shown a number of other people.
We all couldn't believe that even the KKK would want this human garbage in their upper echelon. He was a dirt bag without that affiliation.
He came to the little going away party th y had for me when I quit, still wearing his carhart jacket, and he looked like this:
![[Image: Gruen2.jpg]](http://whyquit.com/whyquit/Gruen2.jpg)
Again he was an amazing mechanic. I guess just because someone is bad, doesn't mean they have absolutely no talent. R. Kelly pissed on little kids but he still wrote "Fiesta Fiesta" so its all relative.
Aloha!
When I was in college in St. Louis Mo I had a job at a big towing company. We also repoed cars. Most of the vehicles had to get a basic once-over by a mechanic before they got returned.
This company had a guy with the title "lot mechanic" who did all of the maintenance on the trucks, did repairs on repos and managed all the other mechanics, most of whom were black.
This guy was without a doubt the biggest redneck scumbag I have ever seen in my life. He wore a brown carhart jacket every single time I ever saw him. In the summer he would sweat through it. He wore it to the Christmas party. He lived in a trailer in Affton Mo with about 5 dogs underneath it. I know this because I drove him home. His little area was littered with cars in various states of disrepair.
This guy was the best mechanic in the Midwest. He would cut custom wheels off cars in seconds. He did a windshield in minutes. The guy could fix anything. He was amazing. He would help out with funny car drag racing on the weekends and his ultimate goal was to be a NASCAR mechanic.
One day our biggest client, the old Nations Bank, had some representatives out walking around. This guy got upset and started complaining about the "Joosh" which was how he said Jewish. It was very odd, but I just went with it.
Some time later he began to confide in my his dislike for the African Americans we worked with. He would say some really twisted shit. He liked me because "messicans is hard workin" so it was OK. I guess illegal immigration wasn't as big of a deal then.
After a while of listening to him I finally asked why it was he felt this way. He opened his wallet and in the drivers license spot he had a Missouri KKK chapter photo Id.
He wasn't just a regular member either, he was KKK management. His group was called the Supreme Knights of the Ku Klux Clan or something like that. It turns out the KKKs mecca was outside of st. Louis near the intersection of highways K and KK, which is very creative.
I promised not to tell anyone. One day he was in my little office rambling his hatred on the other side of my desk. His dip popped out of his lip. He picked it up and put it back in, but it popped out again. Well, ;he problem was, he had been chewing for so many years, that a hole had worn between his lower lip and his chin.
I drove him to the hospital, in his Chevy Citation. I told everyone while he was gone about the KKK card. It turns out he had shown a number of other people.
We all couldn't believe that even the KKK would want this human garbage in their upper echelon. He was a dirt bag without that affiliation.
He came to the little going away party th y had for me when I quit, still wearing his carhart jacket, and he looked like this:
Again he was an amazing mechanic. I guess just because someone is bad, doesn't mean they have absolutely no talent. R. Kelly pissed on little kids but he still wrote "Fiesta Fiesta" so its all relative.
Aloha!