latest

I suppose that I’m what you’d call a lurker- I’ve been following this forum with interest for some time, and have often felt tempted to add my comments but have never felt irresolutely moved to do so until now. What has prompted me to put digital pen to virtual paper is this thread, which I think is THE definitive introduction to and precis of niggerology. If the subject were taught in schools, which it should be, in my opinion (some hope, I know!) I would make some of the posts on here part of the foundation course.

I have never considered myself a racist in the sense of being prejudiced against any race. Indeed, I know people from all parts of the world: Oriental, Asian, Hispanic- many of whom are good friends. I’m also married to one of them! Acknowledgement of the difference between races, is OK, whether you’re referring to physical appearance or behavioural tendencies, and I know that my lovely Malaysian neighbour and my Hispanic wife would agree.

Whether the nigger is a race or a species is a matter of genetics, a subject of which I have very little knowledge, so I can’t express an informed opinion. It’s convenient though, as far as I’m concerned, to use the word “human” to refer to any non-nigger humanoid. In that sense, I am a racist, in that I class niggers as a separate group from the rest of humanity, inherently of low intelligence, violent and anti-social. So, what made me aware of the difference?

There are two main themes that crop up again and again on this forum:

1. A well-balanced, unbiased, liberal-minded individual, with no particular opinions about niggers, because he or she has grown up in an unfuxated area, moves to a fuxated town or city and becomes a niggermaniac within weeks, if not days.

2. A like-minded individual is put into a situation where he/she has to work with niggers, leading to the same result.

Both of these apply to me. I live in London, UK, in an outlying 100% nigger-free suburb, which is one of the reasons my wife and I moved here. Previously, we lived in a more central area, which was gradually becoming overcome with the feral beasts. It was the happiest day of our lives when we moved out. Before that, I grew up in a moderately large town which was also virtually uncoontaminated. We have a very small nigger population in Britain- in the region of 3-4%, and, following the principle of like attracting like, it tends to be concentrated in certain areas, mainly inner-city ghettos. (Niggers will turn any area into a ghetto, as we all know.) Therefore, it’s possible to lead one’s entire life in most parts of Britain without encountering more than an occasional nigger, as I did up until I hit my mid-forties.

I’ve worked for most of my life in the broadcast production industry, where strict, immovable deadlines and occasional long days and missed weekends are the norm. At the time we first moved to London, I was working for a small independent company, owned and run by humans, but with a nigger manager supervising me. This creature did everything in its power to make all our lives as difficult as possible. A favourite trick was to reschedule work so that an important project would be in danger of over-running because we were concentrating on trivial, low-priority tasks, then complaining that the main work was not being done. It would criticise us for the slightest mistake (often caused by having to rush the job to get it finished) invent non-existent problems— I could write a long, long list.

It became normal for me to have to start work at 7 am and work through to midnight, just to get a project up and running on schedule. Naturally, my health suffered, and, looking back, I was probably on the verge of a breakdown. Along with others, I frequently complained to the senior management, who were understanding. The problem was that our employment laws here are so strict that, unless it could be shown that the nigger had committed some gross criminal act, it was virtually impossible for it to be fired. Then there are our race relation laws. If it had shouted “Racist!” the company would have faced a long and very expensive legal battle, which could have cost tens or hundreds of thousands of pounds.

An old, and oft-repeated story I know— One day I decided that I’d had enough, went to see the senior manager and quietly informed him that I was leaving then and there. I walked out of the job that I loved and to which I was dedicated, even though I had nothing else to go to, though fortunately I was not unemployed for long. If living in a fuxated area had not already made me a niggermaniac, my experience in this job would have. This is quite a long first post, so I’d like to close here by offering sincere thanks to all who administer and contribute to this forum, particularly those who have offered their invaluable insights on this particular thread.

I safely returned from New Orleans last week, but I'm still very upset and disturbed by what I saw while I was there. I know many of you warned me, and I knew there was going to be a lot of niggers, but New Orleans was fuxated beyond even my wildest nigger nightmares. I think it's possible this is the most nigger fuxated city in the United States. I wanted to get out of it, but my husband would have went alone and he likes to drive straight through and I was worried he may fall asleep at the wheel.

We drove to New Orleans from New York, only stopping for a 4 or 5 hour nap in the parking lot of a truck stop in Alabama, so I was tired. We arrived about noon and check-in time at the hotel wasn't until 3pm. So we gave our minivan to a nigger to valet park and decided to take a little walk, until the hotel room was ready.

My husband is a fan of the movie JFK, so he wanted to see if that building they showed in the movie was still there. We walked by a lovely park and I was going to take a few pictures until we got closer and I saw dozens of homeless niggers lying all over the ground and under the statues and trees. One was injecting something into it's arm and making loud chimp noises. Of course, we were immediately harrassed for money.

A big nigger buck jumps out out of nowhere and says, "You are being given a ticket for not smiling in New Orleans." My husband reached out to take it, and I scream, "Don't take it, it's a scam!" The nigger gives me a dirty look and says, "It's for Meals on Wheels!" LOL, I bet. So we walk a little further, and don't find the building and I've already seen more niggers than I can take after 24 hours of driving and very little sleep. Plus I'm hungry, which is an issue because I'm diabetic. I just needed a little something to tide me over until we went to dinner that evening.

On the way back, I see the same nigger with the “ticket scam” harrassing a human for a donation so I slow up to see what’s going to happen and the human gives the nigger $10! I couldn’t believe it. We walk back towards Canal Street, which is one of the main touristy roads in New Orleans. I see a McDonald's, so I tell my husband that I'll just get a fish sandwich and we'll sit in McDonald's for a little bit until the hotel room is ready.

There is the slowest sheboon at the register. People are walking out left and right because there is only one cashier and a long line. But by then, I was getting dizzy so I decided to wait. Thankfully, 3 smart people in front of me said, "Screw this," and left. So I get up to the register and say, "I'd like a plain fish sandwich, no cheese." The sheboon looks at me like I just spoke in Swahili and says rudely, "You want a WHO?" I repeat my order and it rolls its eyes at me and makes a face. After I get my sandwich, we go to a booth by a wall.

Homeless niggers and beggars are lounging around in booths. The garbage cans were overflowing. The air smells like urine, pot, and liquor. Screaming unsupervised niglets are running all over.

My husband points out a group of nigger teenapers who are dealing drugs right in the open. When I see a nigger, I try not to interact with it. My goal is not to get killed or robbed by a nigger, especially when in a dangerous city. But unfortunately, my husband, who hates niggers too, will often make a comment that I feel puts us in danger. He grew up in the city, so he thinks he can handle them.

I look over and I see the niggers are not only dealing drugs, they have all their dope, right out in the open, lying on the table. One of them is rolling a big fat blunt. So, of course, my husband can’t resist commenting. He says loudly, “Is that a McDoobie?” Instantly, about 6 niggers surround our table. One says, “Don’t be judging us. This be how we be making our living.” Another nigger, it’s pants hanging down to its knees says, “We gots rent and bills to pay ‘cause our mothers not love us.”

I said, “It’s okay, we’re cool,” hoping to calm the situation. The niggers kept babbling at us and I was scared to death. We got up to go and 3 of the niggers went outside. I was scared they were going to jump us. After we checked in, I Google this McDonald’s and it turns out that a murder and stabbing had been committed there, a few months earlier, in broad daylight!