BUDDHA WAS A SOUTH ASIAN

I went down to the little store in the basement of my building this afternoon to buy some juice. The man who runs the place is a very nice, painfully proper South Asian gentleman. He's really nice, but I get the sense that he calls his wife Mrs. Storeowner, as opposed to by her first name. As I went to the rear of the store to get my juice (kiwi tangerine, because I've never had it before) I hear the clock radio he plays while he works. It is very quiet. However, I hear floating from behind the counter "you gotta fight, for your right . . . to paaaarty."

Maybe he's not so proper after all.