[I've decided that it's fun to trot out some old jokes. This one was originally delivered as part of my first text-based show, "One-Man Sleeper Cell." This show was delivered to a small audience in Orlando. I didn't have a blog then, so I sent all the material for this show to a contact at the Orlando Weekly. That show propagated outside that newsroom and went who-knows-how-far. We'll use this in the "Here I Am" show.]
There is the type of joke known as a "bar" joke. "Guy walks into a bar..." I never trafficked in them, but I understand it's a rite of passage, so here's my first stab at it:
Two niggers,... a kike and a fag walk into a bar. The bar is already populated with broads and spics, but they don't really figure into this joke.
The fag says, "Bartendress, I'd like a Cosmo, and my friends here--"
"Shut up, bitch," says a nigger, "Get on my dick! And you [waving at the ho behind the bar] get me a gin and juice."
"Now that's hardly any way to talk to the wait staff," tutors the kike. "I think--"
"Who gives a shit what you think, you hook-nosed Hebe," says the other nigger with his splayed-fingered, cross-bodied hand gesture, "You've always got your claws into everything. And you poisoned my crown air freshener. So shut the fuck up before I twist your balls off and shove 'em up your ass. With a nice new shiny penny!"
"Listen, you filthy niggers," interjects the fag, "can we at least get our drinks?"
"I hate fags," a background broad whispers. "Yeah? I hate kikes _and_ niggers. It's true about the air freshener, you know," replies the spic.
Joke ends unceremoniously to dead air. Ta Da! A nonplussed audience smiles nervously...