superiority complex.

why do we say, “walk the dog”? we’re all sentient beings. all capable of emotion. sure, humans are more rational, more logical. but we all have the ability to learn. we just have to find a way to communicate effectively. for all we know, dogs could consider us the lower life-form. they probably feel sorry for us. i wouldn’t be surprised. opposable thumbs are for chumps.

so, instead of, “i took fido for a walk today.” how about, “fido and i went for a walk today.” or, if you insist, “me and fido went for a walk today.” it would be grammatically incorrect, and, frankly, a little self-centered, but you could say it if you wanted to. egotistical prick. it’s like when people are racist, on account of their upbringing and whatnot, and they know they’re racist, but they don’t want to be racist, so they call all black people “african american.” you know, ’cause they’re all from africa. they may not all be from africa, but i’m certain that they all like watermelon, corn bread, fried chicken and kool-aid. excuse me. “purple drink.” [on a serious note, all of the previously-mentioned foods are delicious, but everyone knows that “red drink” is the superior drink. i mean, come on.]

you know what i’m really fucking tired of? like you can stop me anyway. well, i mean, you could if you wanted to. it’s a free country. you could just “x” out of this. go ahead. i fucking dare you. you won’t do it. because if you did, you’d be like, “oh snap! what if that crazy carpet-muncher was the keeper of some sort of pearl necklace of wisdom that i’ve been searching for for, i don’t know, say a good minute and a half.” and then you “x” and miss it. and i’m all, “ohhh! sucks to be you!” and then you get mad at me for being like that. and then i get mad at you for going all “x” on me. and then we give each other the silent treatment for two weeks. so i’m really fucking tired of when white comics do the “acting black” shtick and vice versa. like all white people play golf and wear their pants up to their nipples. i must admit, i do indulge in a good “dude” now and again. ok, fine. i say it all the fucking time. anyway, that brainless comedy is tired, dude. i apologize for the language, but jesus, these golf pants are cutting off the circulation to my tits.

in conclusion, judge not a creature by its constant napping or incessant leg-humping. my spanish friend fido, mi amigo fido, if you will, just can’t help it. just kidding, just kidding. of course i know that not all hispanic people are from spain. judge a creature by its existence. because we are all of the same creation.



white power.


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