It seems Danish tennis star Caroline Wozniacki had the temerity to mock the rather audacious physical qualities of Serena Williams at a recent exhibition match by stuffing her sports bra and whatever those splendid underthings are called. Witnesseth the awesome:
Yes, I left that extra large for you. Now she is being accused of racism by the usual cabal of nomenklatura who exist only to feed parasitically off the misguided guilt of the tattered remants of western civilization.
What did I see? A girl having devilish sport with an adversary. Mocking, and yet in a way praising, Serena's rather splendiferous attributes. (Nota bene: I would hit Serena Williams like Frank Booth on Dorothy Valens). So Caroline is having fun with Serena's body. Not her melanin content. Yet she is a racist.
This is utter, craven bullshit of the highest order, and I have had enough. I personally reserve the right to mock anyone, on any issue I choose, and if you choose to take offense I truly do not care. I don't care what your one-drop count is, or if you embrace anal sodomy, or if you worship a paedopheliac butcher. I'm going to mock you. Just as I mock my own cracker brethren. This is called humor, and it is the safety valve of over-pressurized societies.
You don't get a pass from me. There is no Get Out of the Bath House Free card. There is no Fear of Fatwah card. There is no indolent reparations bullshit card that will ever sway me. You? You? You were born to be mocked. We all are. Get over yourselves. You are all Scut Farkus, long overdue for a punch in your damned noses.
Here's a novel idea: grow a spine, and some dignity to accompany it. You might also engage in some interval training, because I'm on to you, and I'm after you. Better still, let us sit down for a game of chance. I have a nice, fresh deck of cards here. It doesn't have a race card, it doesn't have a queer card, it doesn't have a naked 9-year-old wife card. Odds are I will beat you at chance, and I will beat you at reason. I will chase you down in the woods with my ancient heart if necessary, and beat you there. Senseless. With a bootful of your sodden ideas.
Having bared my soul, I must say as addendum the extraordinary Ms. Wozniacki might question that Danish heritage. Lech Welesa just texted me, and claimed her.