It’s not easy being brown post-Sept. 11, 2001

I am the proud owner of a year-round tan. The pigmentation of my skin resembles, and tastes… I am the proud owner of a year-round tan. The pigmentation of my skin resembles, and tastes like, caramel with just a hint of curry. Many of you are wondering, “Why aren’t I so lucky?” or, “How can I make up for my deficiency?” Well, the answer is simple: You can’t. But don’t fret; I am sure the operation will soon be made available!

It’s not easy being brown. Sure, you finally can join the “tall, dark and handsome” club, but as dear Ben Parker always told me, “with great power comes great responsibility.” Thus, I am obligated to educate those of you who would undergo the surgery so that you don’t get yourself sent to Guantanamo Bay within in seconds of gaining your newfound tint. I will impart upon you a guide to being brown successfully — this goes double for those who already find themselves a shade darker than canary.

First, and perhaps most importantly, strut and swagger all the time. By being brown you are unique and, therefore, exotic. Exotic equals nothing less than cool. Guys, you may need a stick to beat off all the ladies who will throw themselves at you, and girls, you must be prepared to break necks wherever you go. Perhaps, when truly in a hurry, you may want to wear disguising and covering attire so as not to be constantly interrupted by marriage proposals.

However, in this post-Sept. 11, 2001 Patriot-fest, it is even more crucial for us to never be caught outside with no fewer than seven visible American flags. The Department of Justice now has the authority to arrest anyone they deem suspicious. With its newly installed, city-wide, Big-Brother-esque camera coverage and the “Ethno-Detecto 5000” software, if you score just a smidgen darker than yuppie-with-bad-tan — and you’re without the required number of flags — you are automatically an enemy combatant under the future PATRIOT ACT II.

All kidding aside, it is important that you, Brown American, take some simple precautions to avoid the inconveniences of being profiled and/or imprisoned:

I learned the hard way to never, ever fly on an airplane. It is much faster for me to walk 3,000 miles than to endure the five-day quarantine and cavity search at the airport. I feel sorry for the obligatory white person they screen in order to avoid lawsuits. Some sort of maritime transportation would be easiest since our poorly operated Homeland Security can barely check 5 percent of our nation’s ports, according to The Washington Post.

Also, never look at or spend time near buildings, landmarks or bridges. Take no photos; don’t even discuss architecture. My 4-year-old nephew was arrested for attempted terrorism and deported after he allegedly predicted a strike on the London Bridge — now located in Arizona — during a kindergarten sing-a-long. But thanks to impressive law enforcement, the bridge in peril never did fall down.

Also, though it may be “the American way” according to wise sage and philosophe Toby Keith, don’t ever put a boot in anyone’s ass.

Being brown also changes the way you are forced to interact with the rest of society. For instance, when people list off the names of their brown friends to me and tell me how much they enjoy them, I smile politely and resist the urge to talk about exactly how many white friends I have.

When someone asks you, “Where are you from?” just cut to the chase and explain where you are “from-from,” because that’s what they want to hear. But never divulge that you have/had any heritage or collaborative relationship with countries beginning with “Ira-” or ending in “-ibia,” or “-stan.”

Being brown means having to lie sometimes. For example, when my new friend seems disappointed that instead of owning a magic carpet and wearing a jeweled turban — and the most remarkable thing about me is that I’m a record holder on my copy of Madden Football 2005 — I cheer them up with a story about how yoga allows me to read minds and fly.

While being a minority, it’s important to weigh the bad with the good. As frightening as this guide may seem, at least, by being brown, you will never experience the soul-crushing shame of using tan-in-a-can, which, according to God, is the dumbest thing in the universe.

Arun Butcher thinks brown is beautiful. E-mail him at amb28@pitt.edu.