Angelo Basque is a delivery man in Mesa and Phoenix, Arizona. He is tall, athletic, and easy going, nearing 50 years, with shoulder length hair, a ball cap and a mustache. He drives a squarish CRV with a high profile and some space in the back for deliveries.

His Monologues follow.

4/17/25

Carry out food deliveries have declined. But grocery deliveries have increased. I chalk this up to either inflation or reduced income or both. The stupid stuff is spreading, the women becoming more irrational. The black population has increased a lot in the past few years. They rarely work and lash out like disturbed children.

Today I was picking up an order at a vegan restaurant. I was standing behind Black Karen. Black Karen had already placed her order and was standing in front of the register asking many, many questions about the exact ingredients in the french fries, the batter, the sauce. The cashier was not up to answering all these questions.

Then White Karen, a nice looking sixty, maybe from California, steps up next to her and asks the cashier, “Could I please place my order?”

Black Karen says, “Oh, you think because you’re white, we need to step aside for you?!”

White Karen gives it back, “Oh, you think you’re better than me because you’re black?”

And it continues. I step around and pick up my order. Now, White Karen walks over and sits down, but Black Karen starts videoing her with her phone. White Karen gets up and walks around and Black Karen is following her, chasing her, with her phone. Eventually White Karen says to the cashier, “Miss, please tell her to stop harassing me with her phone.”

I was surprised that the cashier actually told Black Karen that this was not appropriate, and then asked White Karen if she wanted to file a complaint—with the manager. Black Karen puts away her phone and rejoins the argument with her rival.

Not a police report, but a formal complaint about this other customer before the manager! It was entertaining and I almost wanted to return for another order to see if they were still wasting their time seeking a judgment on their argument from a vegan food establishment.

4/18/25

Last night I get a delivery order for a posh hotel. This hotel has multiple buildings, so I go to the main office to find out where the building is. The entire time the customer is texting me, increasingly frantic, “Do not leave the order at the front desk. Bring it to the room.”

I find out at the front desk, that they are in a building around the side and up a drive. So I precede there, still getting frantic texts. When I appear, it is a fairly athletic couple standing by the drive way, waiting for the order. The woman, who by her speech is definitely from New York, complains that I should not have gone to the main desk. I told her I wanted to expedite her order. I had a bag of liquor so needed to check an I.D. She wanted to hold a bag, so I gave her the heavy one and she almost dropped it. Yet she wanted to prove she was strong and kept struggling, trying to show her I.D. like she was Rosy the Riveter. The man offered to take some bags but explicitly stated he wasn’t wiling to carry the heavier stuff, a few bottles of liquor. She is dressing him down, not about that, but something in general. Her I.D. takes two scans to read and she gets angry with me about that. I thought, ‘This guy has no idea what he is in for.’

4/19/25

I go to pick up a delivery at a grocery store and there is a black man in a scooter chair. In general, you see a lot of boomer guys in scooter chairs tooling up and down the roads like this guy, right here on a highway, East Main Street [pointing to a crippled middle aged cracker holding a cane and scooting along in his electric chair.]

This black man is complaining about something, ranting and raving, throwing packages of toilet paper all over the place. The employees are trying to ignore him. I don’t think they understand how bad these people are going to get when their population doubles again and they are everywhere, the special entitled charity case in every room, every aisle, on every street, endlessly agitating for more attention, more service, more free shit…

This guy, who is not a young man, while he is not throwing things and complaining, is eating an ice cream cake with his hands, smearing chocolate all over everything. I just stepped around, picked up my order, and got out of there. I have thankfully now been around enough of these people across the country that I realize that within a few minutes of contact I will be characterized as some racist bad guy.

I suppose this is the way it was meant to be, why the Snake People brought them here in the Plantation Era to harass us into moving so that our homes could be bought for a song.