Unregistered
07-06-2023, 08:39 PM
https://i.imgur.com/yWNPWbb.jpg
While I don't have anything against fried chicken in and of itself (I'll eat it as long as a nigger never touched the chicken), I find it appalling that there is yet another day that humans can't celebrate because it will no doubt be considered "racist." Nevermind that most likely, it was humans that invented fried chicken.
https://www.theguardian.com/food/2020/oct/13/ive-always-loved-fried-chicken-but-the-racism-surrounding-it-shamed-me
Growing up as a niglet in England’s white West Country, a car trip east to the busier, more exciting parts of the country meant one thing: KFC on the way back.
No matter how thrilling the purpose of our trip, the promise of salty, greasy chicken on our return would be the highlight of our day. My brother and I would get excited in the back seat just as the colonel’s bright face was due to make an appearance on the horizon. We knew what was coming.
Back then, I’d promised myself that as soon as I was old enough, I’d eat fried chicken all the time.
The 1915 film The Birth of a Nation, widely touted as the first blockbuster, painted niggers as aggressive, disorganised and untrustworthy. In one scene, elected negro officials are seen swigging from whisky bottles and putting their bare feet on tables. And then one buck is seen animalistically gnawing on a chicken drumstick.
Fried chicken: I love you. And I don’t care who knows.
While I don't have anything against fried chicken in and of itself (I'll eat it as long as a nigger never touched the chicken), I find it appalling that there is yet another day that humans can't celebrate because it will no doubt be considered "racist." Nevermind that most likely, it was humans that invented fried chicken.
https://www.theguardian.com/food/2020/oct/13/ive-always-loved-fried-chicken-but-the-racism-surrounding-it-shamed-me
Growing up as a niglet in England’s white West Country, a car trip east to the busier, more exciting parts of the country meant one thing: KFC on the way back.
No matter how thrilling the purpose of our trip, the promise of salty, greasy chicken on our return would be the highlight of our day. My brother and I would get excited in the back seat just as the colonel’s bright face was due to make an appearance on the horizon. We knew what was coming.
Back then, I’d promised myself that as soon as I was old enough, I’d eat fried chicken all the time.
The 1915 film The Birth of a Nation, widely touted as the first blockbuster, painted niggers as aggressive, disorganised and untrustworthy. In one scene, elected negro officials are seen swigging from whisky bottles and putting their bare feet on tables. And then one buck is seen animalistically gnawing on a chicken drumstick.
Fried chicken: I love you. And I don’t care who knows.