It’s amazing how many instances one can find in the I/P argument, where the lower casing of Arabs, Palestinians, Muslim, Islam is repeated as a constant by some. ‘a’rabs, ‘p’alestinians, ‘m’uslim, ‘i’slam. Yet by the same keybored, Israel, Jews, and every other proper name is appropriately upper case. I’ve always wondered does it take much practice?
Once upon a time there was a medium sized bigot. Mummy Bigot and a bigger badder bigot. Daddy Bigot. Between them, they begat a bouncing baby bigot, Bigot.
Mummy Bigot, Daddy Bigot and baby, Bigot, lived in a house with a sour grapes vine, which was quite small and twisted. There was a bigotree at the front of the house that sometimes bore strange fruit.
In order to boost their pathetic senses of superiority, the Bigots liked to belittle and abuse people, by purposefully typing ‘a’ for Arabs, ‘p’ for Palestinians, ‘m’ for Muslims, ‘i’ for Islam, ‘j’ for Jews, over and over and over and over again. All it did though, was immediately show people just how vile, ugly and twisted their tiny little bigot minds were. Of course this didn’t matter to them, because they were after all, vile, ugly, twisted, tiny minded, little bigots.
One day, while the Three Bigots were down at the Bigot’s KKKlub laughing at people who were hanging around the KKKlub house, Gollywocks (her name has been changed to protect the guilty), was out walking through the Black Forest listening to a Walk in the Black Forest on her WalkPerson and munching on some Black Forest Cake, when she came upon the three Bigots bigot’s abode.
She had just been passing the time, but now she really needed to pass some water. So she knocked on the door. “Mmmmmm there’s no one home”, she thought.
“OOoohh”, she though, “they won’t mind. I’m busting already”. So she quietly slipped in the door and availed herself of the Bigots big olde bigot bog. Relieved to be relieved, she cruised into kitchen, where she noticed three big bigot bowls of bigots brew on the table. “MMmmmmmm”, she thought, as she swallowed the last of the Black Forest cake, “poor rich! Yummmmmm!”.
The first chair was so high and wide, especially made for Daddy Bigot’s big bum and the spoon was a really big bigot’s spoon, made for Daddy Bigot’s big bad bigot mouth. Tooooo big for her.
Oh well maybe this one, as she tried to climbed onto Mummy Bigot’s chair. But Mummy Bigot’s bum must have been almost as big as Daddy Bigot’s big bum and her mouth must have been just as big as Daddy Bigot’s big bigot bad mouth, judging by the size of the big bummed Bigot mum’s spoon.
“Oh well”, she thought as she sat herself into baby, Bigot’s, tiny little chair, maybe this one. Unfortunately, baby, Bigot’s, chair broke and dumped her on the floor. No matter she thought, because baby, Bigot’s, spoon was such a tiny wee little spoon, its a wonder baby, Bigot, could eat at all with it, It must have taken him all day just to eat a bigot bowl of poor rich.
It was then that she noticed the little bag of sherbet under baby, Bigot’s, broken chair. “I might just as well eat all of this”, she though, grabbing the tiny little spoon and shoveling it down. “Ooooerrrr, it makes my mouth feel all funny?”
About this time the Black Forest cake started to kick in, so she decided to have a snooze. First she tried Daddy Bigot’s big bigot bed, but it was toooo hard and the chains reminded her of when she was in a foster home.
Next she tried Mummy Bigot’s bouncy bigot bed which was nice and soft….but the light kept reflecting off the overhead mirror and into her eyes and the video camera was kind of …well….disturbing. So she made her way into Baby Bigot’s bedroom.
“Ah, that’s better”, she felt quite at home behind the bars of Baby Bigot’s bed, as she snuggled down to read a copy of PlayBigot she found under baby, Bigot’s, pillow.
The Black Forest cake really kicked in now and soon she was fast asleep dreaming of messin’ with the Big Black wolf.
When the three Bigots got home, Daddy Bigot said “That’s weird, nobody has been sitting in my chair or eating my poor rich.”
“Very strange”, said Mummy Bigot, “no-one has sat in my chair either and they haven’t touched my poor rich either. What the F%$&’s going on??”
Baby, Bigot, was furious. “Someone f&^#ing $@^%hole has been sitting in my ‘high’ chair”, he said as he crawled around on the floor, desperately looking for his little silver spoon and the little plastic baggy.
“Hey”, said Daddy Bigot, “no-one has slept in my bed!”
“Mine either”, said Mummy Bigot as she switched the camera on and tied Daddy Bigot to the bed.
Baby, Bigot, didn’t say anything…. ’cause…well….a bonk with a babe in a baby bigot’s bed is worth more than just fantasizing about two bigot babes in a bigot bush.
Gollywoks opened one eye, “Wow, that Black Forrest cake has a kick..” then the other. “Mmmmm…sherbet” …”Ooooh, Mr Wolf, what’s that you got in your hamper..MMMMmmmmm?”
How much temptation can a baby bigot bear? And, let’s face it, a baby bigot’s got to begin to begat sometime….
The Nanny Cam in baby, Bigot’s, room whirred…..