Did you ever notice the startling similarities between wiggers and retards? They both wear really horrible clothing, they both talk funny and they're both total embarrassments to their parents. A couple monsters walked in to work today. I like to call retards monsters, because, well, you know. Anyways. . . A couple monsters walked in and it got me thinking
'When I have children, would I be more upset if they were retarded or racially confused?'
And the answer is clear: Retarded.
I would rather have to hold a drool rag to my child's mouth and continually potty-train them up into their midlife crises than ever rear a mumbling, knuckle-dragging wigger. To think that some pasty-skinned, unibrowed thug could be birthed from my beautiful wife's vagina is more than I could bare.
I hear they've got the technology to find out if your baby is monster-like before it's born. What they need to do is scrap that whole program and focus on determining if your child is going to be beaten up by real black people for bumping a Tupac album a little too loud in his El Camino. I know Baby Jesus hates abortion, but if I had the foresight to see little Tyrone throwing gang signs at a bunch of middle schoolers because they're the only ones who think he's really bad-ass, I would gladly stick a coat-hanger up there and dispose of the corpse in the nearest dumpster. Then I'd probably spend my time of mourning by seeing some light hearted comedy like Harold and Maud or the Goonies. There's one monster I'm not afraid of.
Good Night to all.