Can’t Remember The Last Time I Was In A Book Store

20-plus-some-odd years ago, I actually spent real money and bought such a book written by that buggardly black baboon - Barkie Obutthole. I wanted to get some sense of the man based on his own words. All I ever saw him doing was reading off a teleprompter to that point. I wanted to give me a fair chance to impress me. The media was selling him as a chocolate Jesus that would unite us and finally bring about a utopia of hopey-changiness.

I got a few chapters in, to my credit. Of course, that monkey saw the world through the lens of race. It’s funny how that works, when I think about it. The Usual Suspects will hiss and screech about You-Know-Who, telling the Germans they were  supermen that deserved to rule the world… but when some coloured retard does it, they clap and cheer like barking seals. I felt stupider after reading that claptrap.

I can say, with some authority… that the people writing those books - in a real country - would be pushing mops, cleaning public chitters and shining shoes.

I ended up using Barkie’s Audacity Of Hope to start campfires.