Haha, no, Tom, this is the “type of thing” that 109 Million viewers saw on TV. The sad fact is that due to my work schedule, I only watch TV for maybe 2-2.5 hours a day…so God only knows what sort of Marxist Soul Contaminations I’ve been missing out on.
Speaking of spiritual contagion, I’ve been seeing this absurd commercial for
“Oscar Mayer Bacon” of late. The ad features a group of 10-12 year old white kids (with one token Negro “chum” thrown in for good measure) casually playing video games on the couch. This diverse group of buddies is soon greeted by the one boy’s “lame” white father…
CAPTION: Patriarch 2.0 – Platinum Marxism Edition
Daddy is desperate to relate to these youngsters that he greets them by saying:
“Yo homies!” Due to his age, noticeably uncool mannerisms, and his poor delivery of a proper Ebonics greeting, the boys roll collective eyes.
Then “dad” makes a simple inquiry to the prepubescent gaggle-o-gamers:
“So what’s da 4-1-1?” Oh, boy, now this old white fool is using that old saying…dad’s ghetto slang is so 1980’s!
Papa, suddenly sensing their collective reluctance to accept him due to his inherent “whiteness” (a skin disease which begets inherent “uncoolness”), brushes them off by saying:
“Na, bro, I’m cool, I’m just chill-maxin!” Tsk, tsk. Doesn’t this anti-hip white buffoon know the difference between “chillin,” “relaxin,” and “chilaxin?”
Finally, the court-jester-flesh-prop playing the role of “Father Dearest” decides to bring out the “big guns,” closing his voguish remarks by uttering:
“Holler!...Holla!” Boy, is this honkey behind the times, or what? That’s like saying
“N-gger!” instead of
“Nigga!” Dear God, how could one cracker be so culturally obtuse?
Video…
[video=youtube;y_GRe28US84]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_GRe28US84[/video]
Naturally, when the average member of the Mass-Goyim-Man witnesses this comedic virtuosity, eardrum-detonating yelps of merriment will most certainly ensue, causing Oscar-Mayer bacon to fly into shopping carts by the bushel, and the little nebbish, phallically-challenged “Son of Isra-hell” who produced this unfunny, witless, unoriginal, anti-white, Negro-venerating absurdity will laugh his gargantuan Shylock nasal equipment all the way down to the local bank (which is owned by his lonesman father).