Apes in the city

[Chittlins]

It's a nice sunny day today while I'm walking along the sidewalk doing my usual daily errands in this lovely city as I do many a fine fucking day. And what do you know? Like poop-fairies, three fat black baboon bitches magically appear. They waddle along like there's no tomorrow, hogging up the entire freaking walking space in both goddamned directions with their stupid simian blubber asses. This has become quite a common occurrence. Again I must face another brown ape roadblock from the African turds of the sidewalk, who think they are entitled to be stupid by virtue that they are black and dumb beyond all hope and reason. These cretinous brown blobs are worthless beyond belief! Why? Why are they here? Hey, didn't you know? Dummies of the earth need to get special treatment for being ugly. Yeah. Yeah, that's why they're here. It all makes fantastic magical sense now. Now I understand everything. As tempted as I am to lay down over a puddle for these ethereal bags of gelatinous joy...for these woolly-mammoth Queen Latifahs of farts...surprisingly, I decline.


The three fat baboon bitches walk as slow as possible, like three steaming hot constipated shits, eating their corn chips and howling some unintelligible rap songs in their smelly ape language, ending with an all-encompassing affirmation of their negritude: "Know whut ahm sayin'?" They act like this whole raped world is their own personal Oprah Zoo Show audience and they're the upside-down-world geniuses of the entire universe. Surely, these stinky Mongoloid creatures expect whoops and applause for whatever babbling diarrhea spurts forth from their slobbering bubble lips. But no, I don't know what you're saying and nobody else on earth cares, either, you elephant piles of shit.

Being the kindly and peace-loving gentleman that I am (I'm not lying, I really am!), I give them the most undeserved politeness imaginable and say, "Excuse me, please."

One especially fat orangutan whore wearing a moronic hairdo that is her sole achievement designating how smart she is turns around defiantly as if I've greatly offended her entire slave race and shouts quite cruelly with a scowl upon her grotesque chimp mug, "Yeah, 'scuse you!" Then she mutters some other charming pleasantry under her foul corn-chip ape breath and cackles like the retarded animal she is. She then proceeds to high-five her obese sistahs as if she's given the correct answer on a ghetto game show. Which I guess she has. I can't help but wonder what synapses in the brain have been fried like so much KFC from years of baboon degeneration through eons of mindless fucking of the Negroid species. What combination of errors has created the idiot monkey monstrosity of these three hobbling lumps of gorilla garbage?

And still they do not move. They expect me to trail behind them as their prize white male dork to show off to their invisible audience that cares about everything they do and how great they are simply by being alive and able to eat corn chips. As far as I can tell from their hefty countenances, it may very well be a great achievement for them to simply be alive and not have caved in under all that oily, scum-encrusted flab. Still sadder is it that they would also regard my trailing them in some manner of warped public servitude as an achievement. Fascinated as I am by how the black brain might possibly function in this or any capacity, I cannot give these primitive, poop-skinned primates the satisfaction. I brace myself for the fact that the weight of the monkey cluster might be difficult to move through, and thusly I force myself roughly through the gigantic brown female mountains. Of course, this means touching them. Not only touching them, but I must push them like a linebacker moving downfield. Doing this brings about the expected gasps of shock from the fat black baboon bitches.

Similar situations have happened so many times before that I think someone ought to invent a pocket-sized device that converts into a whirling helicopter blade, like a giant weed whacker, for clearing out fat baboon bitches on the sidewalk. I figure I could take it out because I should use it. I wouldn't want to kill anybody. Mercy me, no! I would just want to show them the millions of errors of their stupid black ways. It might be kind of fun chopping off the Negresses’ over-plump legs in public and hearing them scream, "Oh gawd! Oh gawd!" over and over in pain. I suppose they would be referring to some jungle voodoo god in Africa. What else could it be?

Well, I guess in the future, they'll be hogging up the streamlined thoroughfares with their air-propelled hover-chairs, since they'll be cripples floating around in Jabba-the-Hut-sized toilets birthing their poop babies and being stupid and fat and black, because that's what they are.

 

[YTlover]

This is why they invented cattle prods.

 

[Coon Chicken Inn]

Of all niggers the sheboon is the worst. All their fat asses have to do is pump our niglets and collect a check, free section 8 housing and food stamps for doing that. They are the worst drain on society.

 

[Paw Patrol]

Trying to get past niggers is horrible. A few years ago, my mother and me were trying to leave the mall in our car. A hooptie with its doors open and 5 nigger bucks standing around it, had parked next to us, blocking our car. My mother asks them to politely move and close their doors so we can leave. They aggressively ook at us, “Go!” and some other nigger babble, still blocking us. This went on a few minutes, until finally they shut their doors and barely moved. Leaving was very difficult as it was such a tight spot, and the niggers ooking profanities at us.
After we left, my mother says to me, “God, I hate niggers!”

Another time my mother was driving to the post office, when a sheboon tried to hit her car with her hooptie. Sheboons hate white women.

 

[Mr. Otis Chimp]

Trying to get past niggers is horrible. A few years ago, my mother and me were trying to leave the mall in our car. A hooptie with its doors open and 5 nigger bucks standing around it, had parked next to us, blocking our car. My mother asks them to politely move and close their doors so we can leave. They aggressively ook at us, “Go!” and some other nigger babble, still blocking us. This went on a few minutes, until finally they shut their doors and barely moved. Leaving was very difficult as it was such a tight spot, and the niggers ooking profanities at us.
After we left, my mother says to me, “God, I hate niggers!”

Another time my mother was driving to the post office, when a sheboon tried to hit her car with her hooptie. Sheboons hate white women.

Sheeboon niggers are also jealous of White women because they know they can never be beautiful like the White woman no matter how much weebs, cosmetics and the other ugly rags they wear. It's the old adage; lipstick on a pig, is still a pig.

 

[Paw Patrol]

Sheeboon niggers are also jealous of White women because they know they can never be beautiful like the White woman no matter how much weebs, cosmetics and the other ugly rags they wear. It's the old adage; lipstick on a pig, is still a pig.

I wish all white women knew how dangerous sheboons are. My mother went to school when the bussing started, and it was hell for her, mostly because of the jealous sheboons.

 

[Mr. Otis Chimp]

I wish all white women knew how dangerous sheboons are. My mother went to school when the bussing started, and it was hell for her, mostly because of the jealous sheboons.

I attended city schools up through the 8th grade, the following summer my parents moved to the northern suburbs.; that was in 1969.
Most city schools were 50/50 racial breakdown or depending on what nigger hood you were living in it might be more like 60 to 70% nigger.
I remember the riots and other nigger bullshit. Just like in the present time, niggers roved around in packs attacking lone Whites. Always best to stay in groups. I come from a racist background; my parents hated niggers, especially my mother.

 

[coonhunter]

I wish all white women knew how dangerous sheboons are. My mother went to school when the bussing started, and it was hell for her, mostly because of the jealous sheboons.

Sheboons epitomize the worst of the nigger race, ramped up to 11. Foul smelling, beastly ugly, noisier than a rusty chainsaw, self entitled, and worthless.

 

[Paw Patrol]

I attended city schools up through the 8th grade, the following summer my parents moved to the northern suburbs.; that was in 1969.
Most city schools were 50/50 racial breakdown or depending on what nigger hood you were living in it might be more like 60 to 70% nigger.
I remember the riots and other nigger bullshit. Just like in the present time, niggers roved around in packs attacking lone Whites. Always best to stay in groups. I come from a racist background; my parents hated niggers, especially my mother.

Same, my parents hate niggers, especially my mother.

 

[zigman]

It's a nice sunny day today while I'm walking along the sidewalk doing my usual daily errands in this lovely city as I do many a fine fucking day. And what do you know? Like poop-fairies, three fat black baboon bitches magically appear. They waddle along like there's no tomorrow, hogging up the entire freaking walking space in both goddamned directions with their stupid simian blubber asses. This has become quite a common occurrence. Again I must face another brown ape roadblock from the African turds of the sidewalk, who think they are entitled to be stupid by virtue that they are black and dumb beyond all hope and reason. These cretinous brown blobs are worthless beyond belief! Why? Why are they here? Hey, didn't you know? Dummies of the earth need to get special treatment for being ugly. Yeah. Yeah, that's why they're here. It all makes fantastic magical sense now. Now I understand everything. As tempted as I am to lay down over a puddle for these ethereal bags of gelatinous joy...for these woolly-mammoth Queen Latifahs of farts...surprisingly, I decline.


The three fat baboon bitches walk as slow as possible, like three steaming hot constipated shits, eating their corn chips and howling some unintelligible rap songs in their smelly ape language, ending with an all-encompassing affirmation of their negritude: "Know whut ahm sayin'?" They act like this whole raped world is their own personal Oprah Zoo Show audience and they're the upside-down-world geniuses of the entire universe. Surely, these stinky Mongoloid creatures expect whoops and applause for whatever babbling diarrhea spurts forth from their slobbering bubble lips. But no, I don't know what you're saying and nobody else on earth cares, either, you elephant piles of shit.

Being the kindly and peace-loving gentleman that I am (I'm not lying, I really am!), I give them the most undeserved politeness imaginable and say, "Excuse me, please."

One especially fat orangutan whore wearing a moronic hairdo that is her sole achievement designating how smart she is turns around defiantly as if I've greatly offended her entire slave race and shouts quite cruelly with a scowl upon her grotesque chimp mug, "Yeah, 'scuse you!" Then she mutters some other charming pleasantry under her foul corn-chip ape breath and cackles like the retarded animal she is. She then proceeds to high-five her obese sistahs as if she's given the correct answer on a ghetto game show. Which I guess she has. I can't help but wonder what synapses in the brain have been fried like so much KFC from years of baboon degeneration through eons of mindless fucking of the Negroid species. What combination of errors has created the idiot monkey monstrosity of these three hobbling lumps of gorilla garbage?

And still they do not move. They expect me to trail behind them as their prize white male dork to show off to their invisible audience that cares about everything they do and how great they are simply by being alive and able to eat corn chips. As far as I can tell from their hefty countenances, it may very well be a great achievement for them to simply be alive and not have caved in under all that oily, scum-encrusted flab. Still sadder is it that they would also regard my trailing them in some manner of warped public servitude as an achievement. Fascinated as I am by how the black brain might possibly function in this or any capacity, I cannot give these primitive, poop-skinned primates the satisfaction. I brace myself for the fact that the weight of the monkey cluster might be difficult to move through, and thusly I force myself roughly through the gigantic brown female mountains. Of course, this means touching them. Not only touching them, but I must push them like a linebacker moving downfield. Doing this brings about the expected gasps of shock from the fat black baboon bitches.

Similar situations have happened so many times before that I think someone ought to invent a pocket-sized device that converts into a whirling helicopter blade, like a giant weed whacker, for clearing out fat baboon bitches on the sidewalk. I figure I could take it out because I should use it. I wouldn't want to kill anybody. Mercy me, no! I would just want to show them the millions of errors of their stupid black ways. It might be kind of fun chopping off the Negresses’ over-plump legs in public and hearing them scream, "Oh gawd! Oh gawd!" over and over in pain. I suppose they would be referring to some jungle voodoo god in Africa. What else could it be?

Well, I guess in the future, they'll be hogging up the streamlined thoroughfares with their air-propelled hover-chairs, since they'll be cripples floating around in Jabba-the-Hut-sized toilets birthing their poop babies and being stupid and fat and black, because that's what they are.

I seen that niggersista as well.................