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The Week’s Most Bitter, Aglitter, and Eid al-Fitr Headlines

REPARATION OUCH
Attention, Walmart clobbers!

Blue Ash, a Cincinnati suburb, became black-and-blue ashy after 37-year-old Karen Ivery soul-trained her way into a local Walmart and demanded $1,000 in free groceries as “reparations” for slavery.

When the white cashier informed Coretta Scott FoodKing that she still had to pay, Ivery (as in, “Ivery bad customer”) began intimidating the much smaller cashier, pushing into her and backing her up in a threatening manner.

That’s when security guard Zach Cotter, also white, tried to defuse the situation by calmly explaining that Ivery had to pay for her food or leave. At that point, Ore-Ida B. Wells began chasing Cotter, who attempted to retreat to his office. But Harriet Grubman followed, bursting through the door and approaching Cotter menacingly.

At that point, Cotter socked Whiny Mandela square on the jaw. It was a heck of a punch, leaving Ivery (as in, Ivery ass-whupped) sitting on her Fannie Williams, every tooth in her mouth aching in pain.

She wanted reparations, and Cotter obliged, giving her 32 achers like a fool.

The funny thing is, even after the wallop, Maya Angelowww kept on chattering. Literally, her mouth never stopped moving, even as her head was reeling.

Whitey’s on the moon, but Karen Ivery saw the stars.

When police arrived, Ivery told them she was trying to have a “Rosa Parks moment” so that blacks across the nation would be able to get their retail goods for free.

Poor Ivery. If only she’d traveled a little farther north to Chicago for last weekend’s window-shattering reparations looting spree, her dream would’ve gone from deferred to defenestrated.

REALLY GROSS WEIGHT
Nobody’s saying “plus-size travel blogger” Jae’lynn Chaney is fat. But in the event of a water landing, the plane uses her as a flotation device. If she breaks wind mid-flight the downwash alters the altitude. Even on a jumbo jet, her tail flaps are larger than the plane’s. Gremlins on the wing scream when they see her through the window. She makes every flight Alaskan (“If you look to your right, you’ll see Mt. McKinley”). When the ground crew mentions “takeoff weight” she reflexively screams, “Never!” If she flies over Lakehurst, New Jersey, elderly residents get traumatic flashbacks.

“Oh, the humanity!”

26-year-old Chaney, who wears size 6XL (her actual weight is unknown, as now that Ringling Bros. has stopped using elephants, the scales have become hard to find), is leading a one-woman (though with the girth of thirty) crusade to force airlines to give “plus-size” passengers “an extra two or three free seats”:

Jae’lynn understands that the price of plane tickets would have to rise if she were to get her way, and concedes that non-overweight passengers could be faced with higher ticket prices to help cover improvements.

Chaney also wants to stop normal-size humans from giving her “disapproving glances,” a problem that’s unlikely to diminish if everyone ends up paying more for their tickets all because she lacks the willpower to stop at the 500th McNugget.

Another of Chaney’s demands: She wants TSA employees to undergo “sensitivity training” regarding morbidly obese travelers. This is a particularly delicate matter for the TSA, which lost an employee last year during a pat-down of Ms. Chaney at O’Hare.

“Marty was checking pockets,” the employee’s supervisor told the AP, “or at least he thought it was a pocket. It was a crevice of some kind. He decided to stick his head in for a closer look…and he hasn’t been seen since.”

“The airline tried to contact the team that rescued those Thai kids from the cave, but Ms. Chaney didn’t want to miss her flight,” the supervisor added.

“We wish she’d come back. Marty’s family just wants closure.”

BYE, GOLLY
Remember back when people actually feared the British? When “The English Beat” wasn’t a new-wave band but the beginning of a sentence that ended “…Gandhi’s ass?”

Ah, those were the days. Today, the only thing Britain can win a war against is…a collection of rag dolls.

If anyone needed additional proof that the Sceptered Isle has become the Sphinctered Isle, last week provided it in spades.

“Spades,” indeed.

Police stormed the White Hart Inn, a pub in Essex, after a customer reported seeing a bunch of “golliwog dolls” (“Sambo”-style black caricature dolls) behind the bar. Six—yes, six—police officers raided the pub, confiscating the smiling playthings, bow ties and all, and threatening the owners with hate-crime charges.

For owning dolls.

In a nation where you can’t even get one cop to respond to a home break-in by Third World immigrant thugs, it’s nice to know authorities still consider a few things worthy of a four-alarm “What’s all this then?”

Christopher and Benice Ryley, the husband-and-wife owners of the pub, responded to the raid by assembling a new collection of “gollies,” proving that not every Britisher self-identifies as Eddie Izzard’s useless scrotum. But once word got out that the owners weren’t surrendering to blacks like Creamed Cornwallis, the pub was attacked by vandals…which failed to attract the attention of even one bobby, let alone six.

And now, Essex police are going through the Ryleys’ social media history to build a case against them, and the bar has been excluded from British pub guidebooks, all because of dolls that some blacks find offensive.

Great Britain: formerly a blissful Isle of White, now a hellish Isle of Maaaaaaan.

RONG ARM OF THE RAW
Speaking of the British, during their age of Empire, one of their best tricks was to convince lesser peoples that colonization meant protection.

“We’ll save you from slave traders.” That’s what the British told the Africans. And when the Africans ran to tell the good news to the moss-coated stick dipped in goat’s dung that passed for their god, the Brits were like, “Maybe we’re overthinking this; these buggers don’t seem ’ard to fool.”

As the empires of the West fade away, can the East copy the methods that worked so well for whitey?

You know the old saying: You can teach an old dogeater new tricks.

Last week, the FBI busted a bunch of Chinamen who were running a CCP-backed police station in New York City’s Chinatown.

Feds say they were tipped off by the fact that there were actual police on the streets in NYC, a sight as rare these days as snow in the Sahara or an intact store window in Chicago.

At a press conference following the arrests, Breon Peace, the soul brutha currently serving as U.S. Attorney, Eastern District of New York, angrily stated, “Just imagine the NYPD opening an undeclared secret police station in Beijing. It would be unthinkable.”

Actually, it’s unthinkable to imagine the NYPD opening a declared police station in New York City.

Although the FBI alleges that the purpose of the unauthorized CCP station was to monitor anticommunist Chinese, Peace worries that the station could’ve been used for even more nefarious ends.

“Imagine a New York City where cops actually stop schizo immigrants from shoving commuters under oncoming subway trains. Imagine…[chokes back tears]…imagine a city where one black can’t shoot another over a fast-food order. That wouldn’t be the city Soros built…that wouldn’t be the Big Applebaum. It would be a nightmare! We can’t have China coming here and bringing back the policing we worked so hard to end.”

If China were smart, they’d open undeclared police stations in all major U.S. cities. At this point, it’s likely that most law-abiding Americans wouldn’t mind the spying in exchange for being able to walk to the store without being murdered.

COME BLOW THE MATTERHORN
Disney was more fun when the porn was in the background.

With the Nazis.

Used to be, Disney artists would get a kick out of hiding naughty images in the studio’s films and parks. Like the naked lady in 1977’s The Rescuers and the Nazi watching over guests at Disney’s Grand Floridian.

Over time, the gags became more obvious, like Rafiki sodomizing Simba or Tarzan revealing that he never learned how to self-pleasure quietly (growing up in the jungle will do that). And now, with Disney all-in on tranny mutilations for kids, even formerly innocuous things seem somewhat darker.

Truth is, Disneyland and Disney World have had “gay days” (gatherings for gay fans) for the past thirty years. And c’mon, it does make sense; what grown childless men with disposable income go to the Magic Kingdom if not fairies who turn Tom Sawyer Island into “Tom, saw yer hind gland!”

But things are different now. Last week Disneyland announced its first-ever “Pride Nite” (“Disney After Dark”) for L-G-B, T-Q-A, M-O-U-S-E. The Disney site states “Tickets go on sale to Magic Key holders on April 18.”

And every gay dude in the world only heard “magic keyhole.”

Dog whistle? If only that were the only thing getting blown that night.

The announcement of Pride Night brought out the dumbest of the Twitter dumb, like “Gen Z” DNC comms director Victor Shi, who tweeted that this was a great victory over Ron DeSantis.

Shi was swiftly reminded that Disneyland is in California.

In high school, Shi was the Asian even the black kids knew never to copy from.

Pride Night will not be open to the general public, meaning that for one night at least, attendees will be spared nonstop brawls by black revelers, as Uncle Remus cedes the park to Uncle Ream-us, and ordinary folks realize that whether it’s Disney’s black days or gay nights, both involve the unsavory use of fists.