Soooooooooo Politically Incorrect

I am so Politically Incorrect, my picture is listed with the phrase. But Archer has a list of Words set for burial. It's a must see, not to mention please R.S.V.P. which funeral you will be attending. It's a toss up for me. I think I'll go with nigger as I have more choice words for that one, these days. Now, take that as you will. Call me a Mick/Squaw and it doesn't hurt my feelings. As you may have seen me write, in the past, it only hurts, if you choose to be offended.
I actually get rather sick of the whiners who can't stare the truth in the face and call it like it is. I mean, really, we have white trash, do we not? You know the ones, i.e. that redneck pregnant woman smoking her cigarette, sluggin' down a brewsky with a kid on her hip and three more running around the little yard, in front of her run down trailer. Here comes hubby, who works at the local Mattress factory and sees suppers not on the table, so he slaps her around. He won't let her get a job cause she's gotta rear the youngins. They aren't married because then, they wouldn't get the food stamps but they where rings and call each other husband and wife or the "little woman," and "stud muffin."
No, I'm not calling people who live in trailers, white trash and you know it. I'm calling the people on their mentality. I'm calling white trash, white trash and redneck, redneck. But why is it, if you call me that, it just doesn't hurt my feelings?
What's my point? Get the fuck over it, you whining bastards. Don't act like the name and you won't be called it. Don't choose to take offense because when it's all said and've only shown me your weak spot, that pink underbelly and I know exactly where and how to hit you. Get the fuck over it.

While we're on the politics of contraband, Dee @ Blogozine, turned me on to
Alison Jackson, photographer. She's worth checking out. Pretty racy, I love it!

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