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Default Re: Debates from "how Rosa Parks started terrorism" - 07-31-2014, 02:32 PM

My friends, the spirit of Rosa Parks lives on.

I had to ride the bus while visiting Atlanta last weekend. What a nightmare. The public transport authority there is called MARTA, which according to the locals stands for Moving Africans Rapidly Through Atlanta. All correct except the "rapid" part. No way was I going to sit in one of those cramped seats like a schoolchild with some dirty poor person next to me; luckily, there are seats along the side of the bus where one can sit in relative comfort.

I did this, and at one stop an old sheboon boarded the bus. Had to be eighty- or ninety-something, with one of those walkers. Face like a raisin. It took the damn thing ten minutes just to get up the stairs and through the door. At this point all the seats next to mine were taken—mostly by coloreds.

Lord, I prayed, keep it away from me. But God must have been taking other calls. The sow drew nearer, step by ponderous step, and the smell of cocoa butter and diaper rash became overpowering. It creaked to a halt before me. I was struck at that moment by just how much elderly black women resemble chimpanzees. Could evolution be true after all? But I had no time for philosophizing. It spoke, or something. A noise resembling words left its bootlips.

"Keeye hab dah see?" it gibbered. Might as well have been speaking Tagalog. Yet I did understand.

"No," I said, calmly and finally. "You may not. I got here first."

Oh how it ooked, how it eeked. Had it not been crippled I've no doubt it would have stabbed me to death. Soon the blacks around me started hollering as well. At this point I genuinely was afraid for my safety, but I refused to be yet another victim of anti-white racist intimidation. I reached into my handbag and felt cold steel.

"Buh da sahn," babbled a younger shegro. "Da sahn say you apposed ta git up!"

Indeed there was a notice above the seat, which asked passengers to give it up to an elderly or disabled person. Fair enough. Why, though, was I singled out?

"Then you get up, Velcrohead," I told the crack-smoking ghetto trash Nicki Minaj lookalike. "I hope you don't think you're fooling anybody with that wig. That's a white woman's hair you're wearing to cover your greasy fur. If black is beautiful, why do all of you try so hard to look white?"

Meanwhile, the old crippled sow looked ready to keel over.

"That goes for all of you," I said. "If this bus didn't have wheels, it would be indistinguishable from the monkey house at the Atlanta Zoo. You've targeted me because I'm white when any one of you could give up your seat. You boogs are always whining about racism, yet you're the most racist people on the planet. If not for mean old whitey, you'd be bathing in cow piss and shoveling bugs into your mouth with a leaf instead of eating McDonald's. You should never, ever stop thanking the white man. Speaking of wheels, did you know Africans never invented it? The wheel, I mean. While Virgil was writing The Iliad, ni—"

At that moment I realized that the bus had stopped again and I had reached my destination. I walked past dozens of slack-jawed primitives without giving them a glance. I guess the old sow must have sat down, or maybe it was dead. I wasn't paying attention to it. I had stood my ground and I was positively glowing with pride and righteous fury.

So when do they name a school after me?


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