Kenya Marie, Stewardess
Y’all hurry up an’ get on ‘is muhfuggin’ plane. An’ ya’ll better be careful, too, ‘cause da nigga in the jetway control house or whateva lef’ about a ten inch gap between the plane an’ the thing y’all be walkin’ on. Muhfugga be lookin’ like he smoked some shit ‘fo he got heah. Dumb ass mulatto pothead muhfugga.
Hurry up, bitch! Gimme dat walker so I can tag it. Fuckin’ the whole flow up, dumb ol’ bitch. Move! Go sit da fuck down. What? Whatchoo said? Whatchoo said? Look at me again. I fuckin’ dare you. Look at me again. Ugly-ass cracker bitch. I don’t give a fuck what da boardin’ pass say. WHAT? I’ll use whateva fuckin’ language I fuckin’ want. Talk again. Talk again. Fuckin’ cutchoo.
Now look at dis crazy-ass cracker runnin’ like a dumbass.
Don’t smile at me. I don’t give a fuck why you runnin’. We late, anyway. We wasn’t holdin’ shit fo’ you. We ALWAYS late, muhfugga. When we on time, it’s a accident! Hahahaha! Shut up, man. I look like I wanna chat wit’ yo’ dumb ass? Get the fuck back an’ put yo shit up in the thing an’ sit down.
Gate say close dis shit up an’ go. I’ma go wake up Traeshawn so he can start dis bitch up.
Where Traeshawn be at? Again? Dat’s the third shit he done took this mornin’. He ain’ takin’ no shit; nigga’s herpes be actin’ up. Dat’s why he always digging’ an’ scratchin’ at his crotch an’ shit. Nasty nigga. He bettah get out heah an get dis plane goin’. I goin’ see me a concert tonight an if we late, he payin’ me back.
Ladies an’ gentlemen: y’all can read da safety shit in y’all seats, ‘cause I ain’ goin’ through all dat wit y’all. If we crash, we goin’ die, an’ if anybody act stupid while we in tha air, I’ma cut yo’ face wit’ dis razor. Y’all got dat? So jus’ buckle y’all fuckin’ seat belts an’ sit still. An’ keep y’all nasty little kids quiet or I’ma buss some ass.
Traeshawn Alcorn, Pilot
What da fuck she said? Nasty ho. If anybody got herpes, it’s dat bitch. I’ll push her ass out at 30 thousand feet she don’t shut da fuck up.
Pre-flight check. Flaps? Check. Fuel? Check. Rollin’ papers? Yep. Hydraulics? Dey be good. Kool aid? ‘Sall good. Aw, man. Enough wit’ dat. We made it here from Newark, didn’t we? What? You think da plane just broke since we landed? We don’ need ta do dat flight check shit between every fuckin’ flight, man. Jus’ chill. Pass me dat.
Where we goin’? You put it in the computer yet? Aw, man. Chicago? Damn. I owe a nigga some money up there. He always know when I comin’. Damn.
Lemmee borrow fifty dollars, man. Pay you back in Detroit…
I don’t fuckin’ know. It always be flashin’. Just put some tape over it. Don’ mean shit…
Sam Bernard, Flight Mechanic
Whatchoo mean ‘s’posed to.’? I ain’ s’posed to do nothin’ but stay black an’ die, bitch. I put it back and screwed it down an’ I ain’t fuckin’ takin’ it apart again. Extra screw my nuts. Fuckin’ thing has two engines, right? One. Two. One don’ work, they fix it on the other end. It’s runnin’ ain’t it? Or is you deaf, too?
Fuckin’ look at me like that. What? You my muhfuggin’ master? You fix it. I’m on break.
Since you fucked wit’ me, dat’s when. File me a fuckin’ grievance. I give a fuck about yo’ schedule. I got seniority, bitch. Whatchoo got?
Shaleeka Simmons, Air Traffic Controller
Shit, I don’t know, American 325. Twelve miles.
Fo’ true? Then fly lower. You hit him an’ ‘at’s yo fuckin’ problem. I ain’ flyin’ yo plane.
Delta 319, turn right an’ speed up or y’all gonna die. Dumb ass bitch. Can’t you see yo’ radar? I don’t know. Just right. What, I gotta solve all yo’ fuckin’ problems? Fly yo’ plane, cracka!
Twalise Simmons (no relation), Accident Investigator
Somethin’ broke an’ it fuckin’ crashed right here. The end, bitch. Now let’s go get some wings. Fuck no, I ain’ drivin’. I ain’ got no gas.
Imagine you live in one of the most dangerous cities on Earth, full of daily reports of multiple shootings, robberies, home invasions. Imagine that you hear someone rattling around in your back yard at 2am. Imagine that, upon investigating, you find someone trying to get into your home. Imagine that you feel you have to defend yourself. Imagine that you use your firearm in that defense. Tough situation.
Well, that’s what happened to Merritt Landry, a (White) New Orleans city employee who defended his life and property against the latest second-rate Trayvon. Much is being made of the fact that little (black) Davie Coulter was “only 14” and is now a vegetable because Landry’s aim was so excellent. But here in New Orleans, the “poor little black angel” narrative is having a hard time sticking. Even the negroes here know better.
But that doesn’t mean the hustlers won’t try.
Just this past weekend, protesters showed up near Landry’s home to demand his indictment and conviction. The effort was led by Ray Brown, a local minister trying desperately to be a kind of poor man’s Al Sharpton. Said the Rev:
“I am totally, unequivocally for the indictment and conviction of Merritt Landry,” the Rev. Raymond Brown said. “He shot the child in the head, and he needs to be brought to justice. We don’t know what (Coulter) was doing, but he did not deserve to get shot in the head and sit around in a vegetative state.”
Hmmm. Well, I disagree. When you break the law–as Coulter was obviously doing–you “deserve” to be punished, And, in some cases, punishment comes faster than in others.
But in Toiletnation, blacks have become so brazenly pro-crime that the act of homeowner self-defense is protested openly and criminals defended whole-heartedly. And nobody in the local media seems to have the guts to point it out.
Old Post: Racial Justice, 2035
My wife predicted this: “The Left cannot succeed because it refuses to stop turning on itself.”
Ryan Julison: working in the propaganda ministry for the other side in the Lukewarm Race War. A worthy read.