[H. Montague Worthington]

I went to the Olive Garden with my wife Delores last night, and we had a Negro waiter. He did an OK job, but as we were leaving, he said, "Thank You." No "Sir," or "Boss," or "Massa," just "Thank You."

Well, Delores was beside herself with the insolence of that uppity Negro. On the way home and for the rest of the evening, all she could talk about, in graphic detail was the threat that uppity Negroes might possibly rape her. She talked for hours about how the handsome young Negro might hold her down and rape her, the names he would call her while doing it, and the disgusting detailed descriptions of his musky anatomy.

I have a good mind to call the Olive Garden district manager and ask them why they're hiring uppity Nigra rapists to serve their food. Disgusting.