Chittlins
Member
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.
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.