Original subtitles

This week...

Ladies and gentlemen, this is Howard Cosell.

Today we explore the phenomenon that is Race War I...

billed as the race to end all races, for the races and by the races.

Is it racist? You better believe it is. I'm told we can expect to see

every color of people in the rainbow ... the blacks, the browns, the whites,

- the reds, the purple and yellows. - Hey! What about the negroes?

- Negro, hush! - Racing from Los Angeles to New York City.

The prize ... a superior race trophy, as well as bragging

rights to being the official race of the upcoming olympic games in Munich.

Finally a way to show everyone in town that the Black Race is the baddest

- mother [bleep] around. - Black Dynamite's been racing against

the man his whole life, and it ain't never been televised. This sounds ridiculous.

I don't know. "The black superior race" does got a nice ring to it.

I mean, if somebody from the black race wins the race war, they will

be on the cover of magazines, newspapers, and even the wheaties box.

- Imagine eating some black wheaties! - "Black wheaties"? Come on!

I'm with Black Dynamite. That sounds stupid.

Ain't that right, Black Dynamite?

Not necessarily. Being on the wheaties box might be just the thing Black Dynamite

needs to put the man away once and for all ... and with a trophy to prove it.

Racer Rex, the Caucasian for the occasion. You are representing the

genetically inferior white man in America who has stolen practically everything in this

country, including this country. Do you think you can steal this race, too?

Well, Howard, the white man will do whatever it takes to win.

I will lie, cheat, and steal my way all across that [bleep] damn

finish line just like we've done for thousands of years. And if you don't believe me,

- just check the history. - Are you worried that you might lose your title

- to a darker competitor, such as the blacks? - Hell, no, Howard.

The black are too busy hanging out in Roscoe's all day eating chicken and watching TV.

Mmm! Somebody need to teach that

racist cracker a lesson! And everybody loves chicken!

We need a black man that can drive a car fast and whup some ass!

Somebody that the black community can depend on!

Somebody who's super bad and out-of-sight, black and dynamite.

I don't know about y'all, but I'm drawing a blank.

Who could we get? You know anybody black, Black Dynamite?

What about a young Bill Cosby?

- Ooh! Or Sidney Poitier? - That's it! I went to school with

Ooh, what about Billy Dee Williams with his fine ass?

- Oh, yes! That'll be perfect. - I got an idea.

How about y'all stop acting like Black Dynamite ain't sitting here listening to you call out

all these old, blind, weak, Colt 49, malt-liquor drinking mother [bleep] when you know I'm

the only one in the damn race that can win the race for his race?

Uhh, never mind, Sidney Poitier. Black Dynamite it is.

- Black Dynamite. - CIA operative and third-generation

inventor George Washington Carver III, a.k.a. "G"? What are you doing here?

Well, I was on my way to Roscoe's to get some peanut butter brittle and chicken

gizzards, but then I heard on the radio that you was racing in the Race War.

- Ooh, mm-hmm. - You remember your old partner, don't you?

Eartha K-I-T-T, is that you, baby? You look ...

Purr-fect, yes, I know, I know. I have to admit I'm pretty

excited to get you... back inside me.

I see this K.I.T.T. still purrs like a pussycat.

Ooh, this pussy roars now, Black Dynamite.

Go ahead, get in. Pop that tranny ... of course, I mean "transmission."

Mm-hmm, Black Dynamite.

- That was just the tip, baby. Just the tip. - Uh-huh. You like that, don't you?

She got a new and improved good power "U."

She is now fully equipped with everything you need. Machine guns...

surface-to-air missiles...

and she squirts.

I'm telling you, Black Dynamite, the bitch is bad.

And not "bad" meaning bad, but "bad" meaning "good."

George Washington Carver III, you are one scientific mother [bleep]

Agent Carver. It's Agent Dennis Flynn.

I can see you, mother [bleep] go ahead.

I have an update on code: Missing Menthol "X".

- Y'all found my shit ? - Of course not, but our intel suggests

it is most likely an inside or outside job. But no definitive word either way yet.

Man, what kind of intel is that? Get the [bleep] out my car!

Code: Missing Menthol "X"? Sounds like some top-secret heavy, G.

Well, I developed a series of secret menthol

derivatives, and the 10th one is called Menthol "X."

Menthol "X" is so powerful, when inhaled, it can be used to control minds.

- And it's ex-screamly addictive. - Makes me want to do what you say

- just thinking about it ... go on. - Well, somebody stole all of it from my lab,

and I hope we find out who before it falls in the wrong hands.

- Hmm. The man's hands. - What? Why is everything "the man" with you, huh?

Uh, Black Dynamite, we should go, baby. We have a race to win.

Yeah, I guess I should get out of here and let you two love birds be alone.

Good luck, Black Dynamite. Or, as my great grandaddy said, "bust a nut."

Solid. And I'll keep my eyes open for

that Menthol "X." Now, before I drop you off, one question, G ...

- what's this Button do? - Huh. You know, I'm not really ...

I think you're in the wrong line. The colored line is over yonder.

No, I think you're in the wrong line. This is the "cracker getting your ass whooped

- for [bleep] with Black Dynamite" line. - You really think you the best

- your race has to offer, boy? - Now, look here, honky doodle dandy.

Black Dynamite used to be a children, but he ain't never been a boy, can you dig it?

Now, I suggest you shut the [bleep] up when grown folks is registering!

Why don't you just go back to your ghetto with the rest of your race and keep

fighting and complaining about the white man while we keep kicking your ass?

Go ahead. Hit me, Black Dynamite.

- I ain't scared of you, boy! - Hey, hey, hey. Guys,

save your overt racism for the Race War. Your gonna get disqualified!

- Geez, I spilled my coffee. - I'm begging you, man. Go ahead.

Hit me, Black Dynamite. Hit me.

This [bleep] gonna be easier than slavery! And twice as fun!

This is Howard Cosell. And I am here with the heavyweight champion of the world,

- Mr. Muhammad Ali, a.k.a. Cassius Clay. - Mm, Howard Cosell, you keep

calling me Clay, and I'm gonna make it look like your toupee took a [bleep]

- between your shoulders. - Very funny, champ. But how do you feel about the

- white man being favored to win, as he most often does? - Howard, as the honorable

Elijah Muhammad say, "the white man's days are over!" Somebody needs to go ahead and

retire his whole race, or I'm gonna have to do it myself once and for all.

- I am the greatest of all time! - Champ, your often-repeated claim of total

superiority has been noted. There you have it, folks. A lot of racial pride and

tension is riding on this one. Let's go to the starting line.

First we have the red Chinese, Dr. Wu's Tang Clan.

I don't know much about them, but something tells me the

Wu's Tang Clan ain't nothing to [bleep] with.

Next up we have the Japanese. Take note ...

they're exactly like the Chinese, except the women have sideways vaginas.

And next we have the native Americans, a.k.a. the Little Injuns that could.

By the way, "hai-yai-yai-yai, hai-yai-yai-yai,"

translates into, "I'm an alcoholic. Now, please, take all my land."

And now the Eskimos.

I'm told they have 100 words for snow, but I only need two words to describe them ...

"frozen wetbacks."

And finally the real greatest of all time, white America's favorite racer, Racer Rex!

Howard, you know the only difference between Racer Rex and a snake?

One's a slimy, venomous, filthy creature, and the other one's a snake.

Last and certainly not least, the champ's personal pick, the black

race's black racer, Black Dynamite. I haven't had that much black in

my mouth since accidentally tripping and falling face-first onto Rosey Grier's crotch.

Driving the lovely miss Eartha K.I.T.T., sponsored by Roscoe's popcorn shrimp

and twinkies. "Roscoe's ... a negro's got to eat."

Fiendish Dr. Wu. I'd about forgotten

- you even had a racer in this race war. - Well, I do, Black Dynamite.

And I would tell you why. But good storytelling dictates that I withhold the reveal till

later so I could build dramatic tension! I hope you win!

Man, this one's for the ghetto, so put your pedal to the metal.

Y'all can vote for Black Dynamite if you want, but since

we can't get Sidney P. and Billy D., I'm putting my money on the white boy.

And today's Race War is bought to you by McDevil's, Murder King, and

the Notorious B.I.G. Tobacco, the official sponsors of Race War I.

Bringing people together by tearing each other apart.

And Racer Rex jumps the gun!

And that's how you start a race war!

Just like the white man, cheating and looking for a beating.

I love it! Just like old times, huh, baby?

It's exactly like old times, except it was

a whole different time and you was a whole different car

and we was never in a Race War. But besides that, it feels exactly the same.

- I'll tell you what ... them Asians never could drive. - That's a very racist thing

- to say on a very racist day. - Is that all the Dynamite you got, boy?

Oh, he did not just call him "boy."

- I heard that from up here. - They do say you negroes have an extra bone in your

- leg and an extra drum in your ear. - Ooh, I've waited so long for this.

That's what I'm talking about! Give it to me, baby! Give me everything you've got!

- I'll give you an extra bone, Howard. - This is no place for prison threats.

Let's enjoy the race.

- Black Dynamite, what are you doing? - Black Dynamite ain't

never lost a game of chicken in his whole life, and he damn sure ain't gonna

- lose now, especially to a white-meat turkey! - You like playing chicken, boy?

I do, too, but, hell, everybody loves chicken!

In a game of chicken, it's certain Black Dynamite will win.

Oh, Black Dynamite! Ohh!

I can't take it baby! It's too much!

Damn it, K.I.T.T.!

Sometimes the white man wins, and sometimes the white man w-i-i-i-ins!

"Ariva-dirty," Black Dynamito!

Damn it, K.I.T.T., what the hell was that about?

K.I.T.T.?

Hmm, Eartha K-I-T-T, you used to purr like a pussycat,

but now you're just a cold, dead pussy. And there's only one way to jump-start

a cold, dead pussy. And that's with a slow jam and 1,000 watts of Black Dynamite.

Can you dig it?

Mmm.

Oh, I never dreamed it coud be like this. Ooh.

- Ooh, yeah! - Whose car is this?

- Whose car is this? - It's your car, Daddy!

It's your car! It's yours, it's yours, it's yours, it's yours!

It's your car, Daddy!

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to let you down. That's why you left the CIA.

It wasn't the honkies. It was me, wasn't it, Black Dynamite?

Of course it was the honkies, Eartha K.I.T.T. Without you, I couldn't have

made it through the CIA. I need you, baby.

- Ohh. Oh, Black Dynamite, I love you! - I know you do. Now, let's get back

out there and win this race war for the black man ... and the bitches who love him.

Black is back as Dynamite breaks away from the Puerto Ricans.

Puerto Ricans, Mexicans ... if you're brown-skinned and you can swim, well, you're a Mexican!

Black Dynamite's back in the race, and he done returned to grace with

steps retraced. And now he's taking 3rd place, and soon he'll be telling that

no-good peckerwood Racer Rex, "in your face," with all upper case!

And that [bleep] right there will be his coup de grace! Disgrace.

- First base. Space, place, face ... - Sorry to interrupt you,

Bullhorn, but as many words that rhyme with "race," we'll be here all damn day.

Now, if he can catch that light-speed devil of the racetrack, Racer Rex.

Go, baby! Go!

I heard the Indians almost didn't enter the race. Someone offered them

a blanket and a handful of beads.

Black Dynamite just pulled the old rope-a-dope on them.

That paleface better watch his red neck, Howard.

When they called you "the modern day Shakespeare," they're calling you that because

- you literally shake a spear. - I'm warning you, Howard. Don't you say "Chuck."

All right, boys, try a little smallpox on for size.

And down goes Injun Joe!

I have to admit, that was pretty ingenious. Authentic white man evil at its

finest right there. They took it back to the 1800s with that one!

Black Dynamite and Eartha K.I.T.T. have just

crossed the New York state line and are on a rampage.

Your boy Racer Rex is in first, followed by the Japanese Yakuza twosome.

My man black Dynamite is in 3rd, and in 4th place, the wild card

- from parts unknown, Dr. Wu's Tang Clan. - It's any race's race, except

of course any of the inferior races who have already proven themselves total losers.

These yakuza mother [bleep] got throwing stars! And they throwing them! You okay?

I think so, I'm with you, Black Dynamite!

What the [bleep] are you doing?!

I'm coming down to do it myself! You're ass is gl-a-a-ass!

K.I.T.T., what's the lowdown on these Chinese old, dirty bastards anyway?

Um, I think they are known as Dr. Wu's Tang Clan, notorious henchmen

- for fiendish Dr. Wu. - Why the hell would he be helping me?

Why are you asking me? I mean, how should I know? I mean, maybe they just

- like you or something. - K.I.T.T., I know when you're hiding

something from me. I can hear it in your speaker. Now, lay it on me.

Oh, Black Dynamite, you're right, I could never lie to you, baby.

It's not in my program. I wanted to be with you again,

and they offered me money, so I...

Wait, who offered you money, and what did they offer you money for?

Fiendish Dr. Wu ... he wantd a car to transport Menthol "X."

Menthol "X"? That's the brain-washing, addictive chemical that

- G. Carver told me about. - Dr. Wu just sold it to the B.I.G. Tobacco company so they

can make a super cigarette that will make everyone who smokes them a mindless addict.

But Dr. Wu is really only using them as pawns in his plan for world domination!

All right. Just so that everybody's clear, fiendish Dr. Wu is using this

Race War to smuggle Menthol "X" across the country to B.I.G. Tobacco?

- Yes. - Well, where is it?

- Well, uh... - Tell me where it is K.I.T.T.,

- and who has it hid! - You have it, Black Dynamite. It's in my trunk.

You're sitting on it!

- Bitch, what did you just say? - I'm sorry, Black Dynamite!

- K.I.T.T., how could you do this to me? - I did it for us. It was our last chance

to be together. We gave our best years to the spy life.

Now why shouldn't we live the high life? All we have to do is win, and

- we're home free! - There's no way I'd win this race if it means

selling out my own community, and I could never be a pawn for Dr. Wu, the man,

or any other diabolical, domineering mother [bleep] can you dig it?

Oh, Dynamite, don't be stupid. The community doesn't care

about you. The only thing I'm fighting for is us.

Let's win the money, deliver the Menthol, and run as far as we can.

We'll buy an island and pave a road all around it, then drive until I'm rusty

- and you're gray. Wouldn't that be beautiful? - Hell, no!

Black Dynamite would never [bleep] a car. And even if I could,

- it would be my Cadillac! - Oh... is that right? Stupid me.

I should've known. My girlfriend Christine says

you all do this!

Eartha K.I.T.T., slow down and turn off the damn heat!

You think this is hot? Well, it's not half as hot as it's about to get!

You are going to win this race, and we are going to live happily...

ever... after!!

Pull over and get the [bleep] out of the car!

K.I.T.T., I knew underneath all this metal and iron, you was just one crazy bitch!

Yeah? Well, I'm going to show you one c-r-r-razy bitch!

- Can your cadillac bitch do this? - Eartha K.I.T.T., no!

♪ All we are saying ♪ ♪ is Race wars are wrong ♪

John Lennon, it ain't your time yet! Look out!

[bleep] damn asian drivers!

As usual, everything come down to black and white.

Isn't it amazing? Black Dynamite's car is colored black.

It's colorblack.

Say it one more time.

- Go ahead, Howard. One more time. - Black.

- It's getting tense out there. - Huh?

It's too late! You're going to win, Black Dynamite!

Eartha K.I.T.T., as much as Black Dynamite wants to be on the cover of

a wheaties box, Black Dynamite would rather lose this race than lose his race.

- Bye, bitch! - Noooo!

I don't get these coloreds, but they sure do love the taste of Menthol.

And as soon as I get my hands on it ...

- Black Dynamite, you ain't [bleep]. - Ooh! Suey!

- Suey! Suey! Suey! Suey! Suey! - Wh... oh.

Suey!

Black Dynamite wins! The black race is the greatest race of all time!

Put that in your toupee and smoke it, Howard Cosell!

That doesn't even make any sense, but I

acknowledge your joy as well as your tendency to glut.

- A black man has won the Race War. - Before we go, I've just received

word from Don King that there will be a Race War II and many more to come.

- I'm Muhammad Ali. - And I'm Howard Cosell.

Good night and god ... Ow! The pain is excruciating.

You and me, baby. You and me.

Forever!

Hunh! Su... suey?

We did it, Black Dynamite, we did it! We won!

You whupped every races' asses! You was the blackest and the

fastest! You put Racer Rex in his place and made us the superior black race!

Told you it got a nice ring to it.

And look what I got, Black Dynamite! Uh-huh!

I'm gonna eat me some Billy Dee Williams wheaties tonight! Unh!