I’ll Pass On Celebrating Black History Month, Thanks

It’s “black history month.” So what? I’m not black; I don’t care. In fairness, I’ve never cared about any of these ethnocentric “celebrate diversity” kinds of garbage divisions Democrats try to cram down our throats, mostly because I celebrate accomplishments, not irrelevant characteristics over which no one has any control. I’m old school; I prefer to judge people based on who they are as people, not their melanin levels. It’s why I would’ve made a horrible Democrat at any time in their history.

The rotund love machine currently serving as a District Attorney and concubine wrangler (the male version of a concubine) in Fulton County, Georgia, educated me on so many things this week, including the new fact that black people operate almost exclusively in cash. This fact was kept so secret from white people that my black friends didn’t even know it, meaning they were either kept out of the circle of trust because they were friends with white people or they were lying because they were still keeping the secret.

Either way, I’ll have to find out how much my black neighbors charge for withdrawal fees; if they’re low enough, I may never go to an ATM again.

Fani, who the liberal media now pronounces “Fawnie” so as to avoid any confusion involving her and what she gave up to her concubinus, not only educated me on black people can the wads and wads of cash they apparently operate in, which may well make up a big part of what liberals tell us is the racist wage gap – cash is, as we saw in Fani’s paying for lavish vacations, untraceable – she also educated me on the hardships black women face in positions of authority and power.

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