#24989 I posted the list of artists who's work weeds out racists, and stand by it. Because its true. If you feel uncomfortable with Kanye's disturbing lyrics on Yeezus than you have issues. If you hate Kendrick's new album, you hate the black identity. If Hari Kondabolu's jokes piss you off, you are part of the problem might want to move (or in this case, stay) to a more white homogenous society because his thoughts are the real experiences that people of color have every day in this fucking country and that is probably where you really belong, because the future of this country and humanity is multiculturalism whether a bunch of white/pink people in cold weather climates like it or not :)

The person who just posted that quote from Kanye just proved they're an idiot because it's not really a secret anymore that Kanye says a lot of things in the form of a persona for laughs. He probably doesn't really believe that statement is true, just like his apology for calling out George Bush wasn't true and if you listen to his stuff you'd realize he doesn't give listeners the big picture in terms of what he really thinks and a lot of people don't always get his humor.

Also calling out someone or being racist is only racist if you're white and directing it towards a person of color because only white people in this country can be racist because of the fact that there is still institutionalized white supremacy that only whites profit from :)

#24988 I will tell you exactly what I think about you, whether you are single or not.

#24986 "It happens to the best of us. Trust me, I am the best of us." -Hondo S. Ashe

#24987 This thing on? I guess it is. I can see the little light on the recorder and it isn’t flashing just yet. This is a… well, OK.

It isn’t a last will of any sort. It’s a recording of the freaky stuff I just saw. Saw and ate. Oh God, that was bad.

Not the previous phrase but the food. Well, OK. Let me start at the beginning. As in a few hours ago and what the hell I did at that café.

If it was a café in the first place.

I got a call from an old school friend. She wanted to meet me for a bite to eat. She’s a damn hot chick and I hadn’t seen her in a good long time. 'Course, I kept in contact over the ‘net—with a body like hers I’d have been stupid not to.

Plus, I was hoping to get lucky with her. Oh man, I’m drooling. Uh… yeah, OK, so where was I? Oh yeah, I go to the meeting place and it’s something that looks like an abandoned building. All hollowed out.

I think to myself this isn’t the place. Look at the address: 13 Kent Street. It synced with the numbers on the building. Funny thing is, this is a building in the middle of a busy city.

Abandoned… but people were walking outside. Asking me what I was doing here and who was I meeting. Of course, I told them to fuck off—it’s my own business to be hanging around out here. Damn, if I only knew then… but damn, I wouldn’t have run.

She was stunning. Came towards me and I knew then that I would be having fun soon. Of course… well, I shouldn’t say. Took my hand with hers and said that it was great to see me in the flesh again. I asked what we were doing here… and why everyone avoided it.

She avoided the question by kissing me… and I can’t really remember what happened after that—except that we were in the building.

Man, inside it wasn’t abandoned, but it was a bustling business. God, did I just say that? Bustling. Christ, who says that word now?

I’ll have a look in the dictionary when I get home. Internet. I meant internet. God, what is wrong with my speech now?

Gah… oh well, it was a busy café. She directed me to a table and we sat down. Small talk… we were gazing into each other’s eyes.

God, that sounds so fucking clichéd, but for two people who hadn’t seen each other in a good long while… OK, going off track here and I don’t know what the hell is going on with me. Menu was pretty normal… all pasta.

Nothing but pasta. Yeah, drinks were normal and there were hamburgers, but different. Never seen a cheeseburger pasta before. She knew the place and she ordered for me.

Didn’t catch the name of the dish. While it came, we talked. She told me how she always had a huge crush on me and never said anything. I was stunned, but my tongue loosened and I confessed the same.

We got closer and God, I was about to kiss her again when the food came. I must’ve looked annoyed cause she laughed and reached under the table to… OK, losing thought here. Gotta focus.

Pasta was good. Slightly tasted of iron, but I brushed that off as a figment of my imagination. The meat was tender and slightly tasted of chicken. Then again, what meat out there doesn’t taste like chicken in some way?

Something nagged at me and I looked up to see everyone in the joint was staring at me. Julia—the chick I was with—was smiling sweetly at me… but, there was something in their eyes. I don’t know what it was.

Something… dead, I guess is the best word. Damn, that was freaky. And then I had another glance at the pasta.

God, I wish I hadn’t.

I can’t even describe what was in the bowl. Maggots, leeches, centipedes, spiders. All crawling around fettuccine and lashings of chunky tomato sauce. And then something made me look closer at the sauce.

Looked normal enough and tasted great. Strange chunks of meat though. What I thought was chicken or beef. So I had established three things.

One, the pasta was really a bug-laden Frankenstein monstrosity. Two, it tasted really great—needed a bit less salt though. And three, everyone was giving me dead eyes. Right.

Of course, I could have retched and run out of the place, but where was I going to go? I’ve got nothing out there—no job, no cash, and stuck in a cardboard box in Hyde Park. Not literally, though. No family either.

And, the insects gave the pasta body and texture. I stayed in my seat and ate the rest—while the patrons burst into spontaneous applause. Now that was creepy. Hmm? Oh, nothing much, I’m just dictating what happened.

Really? No, this recorder doesn’t have a multi-directional mic. Yeah, only my voice. So, we opening up shop?

Well, gosh. I know, dear, we have to keep more people coming to us. Yes, I know. We will… soon.

So John wants more funnelwebs in the sauce? I’ll see what I can do. Yes, I love you too, Jules. Yes, he’ll be perfect for our needs.

If he isn’t… well, yes. That’s perfect. Let me finish this up and I’ll go with you.

Five minutes? All right, I’ll catch up. Where was I? Ah yes, after the lunch… meal, I was questioned by Julia.

She wanted to know if I wanted to stay with her. I said yes and she showed me the inner workings of the café. Turns out everyone working here is dead. Great cooks though, hard workers as well.

Me and Julia, we are the channelers of the outside. We meet people online and take on the guise of people they haven’t seen for a very long time. We lure them in for one of two purposes. One—we always need new workers.

The undead only last so long before they’re put to pasture—literally.

The other purpose. Well, it’s in the sauce.

It’s all in the sauce…

#24985 A FEW YEARS AGO A MAN WAS WALKING DOWN A ROAD BECAUSE HIS CAR BROKE DOWN AND HE SAW A CAR COMING UP BEHIND HIM SO HE STUCK OUT HIS THUMB TO HITCH HIKE AND THE CAR STOPPED AHEAD OF HIM. HE RAN UP TO THE PASSENGER SIDE AND OPENED THE DOOR. WHEN HE OPENED THE DOOR A SKELETON POPPED OUT

#24984

#24983 In my experience, the best way to weed out a racist is to see how they feel about the following:

- Kanye West
- Kendrick Lamar
- Django Unchained
- Hari Kondabolu
- Tim Wise
- W. Kamau Bell
- Jane Elliot
- Das Racist
- Dear White People
- Blacklivesmatter


If your white friends don't like any or most of the above and are not competent at discussing why those artists/activists/films are great, then they should probably fuck off. Doesn't matter how much they like The Wire, anime, Richard Pryor, Patrice O'neal, Denzel, Bruce Lee, Indian food, or how much they talk about having black friends and listen to Chuck D or whatever....they are probably at least somewhat racist and will give you grief later on.

#24982 You know who's 69, male, and would have been much better to the world if he died instead of David Bowie?
Donald Trump.