Publisher an indian giver on contract Paula Deen jewed down, leaving her career with chinaman’s chance

bedPaula Deen is through.  Her TV show, her products, her endorsements–all finished. Why?  Not because she was Spreading the Southern Fried Gospel of the Church of Diabetes (and even converted to become a Diabetic herself). No, it was what she said about black–in particular once incident about finding black under her bed.

This is from her book, It’s Ain’t All About the Cookin’:

I saw a huge, black mass slowly move under my bed.

“Oh, my God,” I said out loud, and lifted up the dust ruffle to see better.

What I saw was a mass of black, wiggling, shiny cockroaches, like a single lump of stuff with a million legs, all now running together–now fast, now scurrying even faster.  I’m not proud to be telling y’all this.

They were there under my bed feeding, and when I’d flipped on the light, they’d started to run for cover, a clump the size of a dinner plate, like a horrible science fiction creature.  Listen, it took so much courage to lift that dust ruffle, and now I watched those breeding roaches disappear again in the dark underbelly of the dust ruffle, and, I knew, into the bed springs.  I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I crawled into my bed in this roach-infested bedroom and I cried and I couldn’t stop until I fell asleep.

That was my bottoming out.

A few things about racism: If you don’t say African-Americans shuffle and Chinese-Americans mince, do not say that we “scurry.”  It is degrading.  We do not scurry: we move expeditiously to the most advantageous location.

In your inner cities you say you have a “high population density.” That works for us too. Don’t say we “infest.” When you’re the first to live somewhere, you do not infest; you inhabit. When unwanted beings then arrive and congregate in large numbers, they (YOU) infest.

News reports say Paul was fired from her show and lost her book deals and endorsements because she, with rare human honesty, admitted to doing what so many do in the privacy of their homes: saying “nigger.”  If she had copped only to the “N-word” she’d still be pouring fat into the pie holes of the American obese. And since “nigger and “N-word” mean exactly the same thing, the episode is one more instance of a species with too much time on its hands. After this brief dust-up, those hands returned to their customary use: ladling in the lard.


“Roach-eating champion choked to death on bug parts”

cockroach-eating-competition-300x235Sometimes I think there may be a God after all.

Last October in Broward, Florida, a group of enlightened Homo sapiens congregated for a “roach-eating contest.”  That’s right–Thinking man was eating roaches not because he was hungry, but for sport.  Thirty contestants were vying to win rare snakes. Snakes–animals that spend their lives locomoting through others’ droppings.

A video–please do watch it!–shows one Homo sapiens “forcing handfuls of the live bugs down his throat, covering his mouth with his hands to keep them from crawling out. He appears to be half-chewing as he swallows, finally pounding on his chest and raising his arms in triumph with bug parts poking out of his mouth.” This is the one time in my life I wish I had been in Florida.

A University of Florida entomologist said that when you bite into these large insects, “you’re going to get a gush of fat bodies, the gut content and the hemolymph — essentially insect blood. As you bite down, that’s going to put pressure on the exoskeleton, so when it’s ruptured, it’s going to squirt.”

The winner collected his trophy–a $850 ivory ball python–then started vomiting, and collapsed.




Now where will we get our feces?

GooseWasteThis is too rich.

DALLAS, N.C. — Dozens of people have gathered in a Gaston County park for a memorial service for 144 Canadian geese that were euthanized by county workers worried they had become a health hazard.

The service Friday night included 144 fresh-cut daisies and carnations and songs. Several people at the service discussed putting together a rescue group for geese.

During the mid 20th century, when the population of this giant, vicious, destructive animal was in natural balance, you “protected” it.  Its numbers went crazy.  Today it collides with planes, destroys gardens, attacks people, and shits all over your  lawns, parks, streets, ponds, and children. When someone makes a tiny corrective measure, you mourn.

A simple calculation:

c poop

This means that every year, Canadian geese produce 4,175,600,000 pounds–more than two million tons!–of shit.  That’s three times the amount of butter produced in the entire country.

Why not kill the geese, and just smear the butter all over your lawns, parks, streets, ponds, and children?

Let me remind you that this is what dung beetles do with excrement: roll it away, then recycle it.


Who mourns the slain beetles?