The mention of a bike. I’ll never forget it.

Christmas, 1988. My brothers, sister, and I all got new bikes. Rain was in the forecast for Christmas Day, so dad let us ride them a day early. It was awesome. I got a bmx-style bike. Older siblings got mountain bikes.

Dad chained them all up to the new lawnmower which I was also excited about because I just started earning $5 to cut the front yard.

Well, Ole Saint Tyrone flew in and stole all of it that night. His elves stole two of my dad’s limousines (he had a limo biz at the time) shortly afterwards.

Niggers had been relocated to the white flight city adjacent to nigger mecca after they were given vouchers post destruction of their projects. They behaved exactly like you’d think they would.

toppest of kek

Ah yes, Harriet Tubman, the blind, illiterate negroid woman who directed people on how to sail up a minefield in a river without blowing themselves up. How could she have pulled that off, no one knows, but if you doubt that she did it you need to die for your sins of doubting a black, doubting a woman, doubting a black woman and doubting the kiked education system that tries to get you to believe that niggers are super human.