I think the simplest cualquier-cosa that makes sense for this, before asking if this is an excuse, a defense, an explanation, or an education even, well, fuck us all then, Jim, I’m not actually “just sayin’” anything.
Let’s just pretend we’re wondering outloud or aloud, as if we’re allowed to. If someone is speaking, here, there, or anywhere – and to anyone? – maybe not to anyone. However, let’s say they’re quote in a newspaper – in English? – maybe yes and maybe no. Maybe it’s an English newspaper quoting something someone said in another language, or, yes, even in plain fucking English. And they write “n-word” instead of the actual word being used? Yes. Thanks for that at least. And you’re saying, what, that forever and ever and ever and ever and ever we should not keep it this way? I just like to, let’s say, envision a future where one day things are better, and if that day is ever going to be here, one would hope it happens in their lifetime – so when is forever enough? Ever enough? Forever enough. What the fuck? You don’t want to tell them about us, do you? That you’re our nigger, and you may even have to tell them that you always have been, nigah. Then, sure, they might figure out what “nigah” means, niggah, but you’re ignoring you didn’t quite use it perfectly there (nor there too, really, Jims?), and, no, it’s not our fault either we don’t know how long these articles or blogs or cualquier-cosa yourself, Jim Flannery, for putting this shit out there. If I use “headmates” that refers to you all, but if I refer to myself in relation to you, I’m not exactly a headmate. No, your just Jim Flannery, dog, please write dog so we can at least pretend you spelled it dog the first time instead of ignoring we actually can do voices like pronouncing it “dawg” so that people don’t think we’re a bunch of dumbfucks either, Jim, can’t you see that if you hear voices people will think you’re crazy or a genius or just plain untrustworthy, so if they know your voices are basically humanish, then they’re going to think we’re influencing you like the Pope telling that nigger John Kennedy what to do, so please do bother explaining whether it matters that “nigger” is referring to a name of a person at all, Jim, ‘cause he’s not our nigger, Jim, you are, and you can be our nigga too if that makes you feel better because, yes, Jim, we know in the real world you’re all alone right the fuck now because those twins (or more) from San Diego didn’t have to go to the Middlesex Hospital to check the water pressure in the psych ward to ensure one keep take a fucking shower. So please don’t worry, we know too, and we don’t hate you anymore than you hate yourself for purposely extending this shit another sentence to avoid ending it with “we know too” and if you keep writing just to point out to people reading this that, yes, Jim, they might even know that not even you know. Are you happy now? That even you don’t even know? It’s sadly probably better that way, and, no, nobody but maybe some people will ever understand, Jims.
Fine, Jim, just how many niggers does it take to change a tire? 100 – that’s 3 in the back, 97 in the ashtray. You know it’s better when it’s told as an Irishman-walks-into-a-bar joke, right? Anything would be better than whatever the shit was on SnapChat that’s for sure. Yeah, good fucking luck next time you’re thinking these fucking people are going to kill you? Who? The same people you might say you’d worry about being able to understand precisely what we’re writing? If they knew what we’re doing when we’re not writing, as precisely or maybe you might even say accurately? And who’s writing this? “For whom is this being written” would be a better question but who would know where to put the question mark if they’re writing it out.
I don’t know the feminine form of nigger, either. Fortunately, that’s not on the paperwork for the Special Olympics (and if it is, then why wouldn’t it also be in Ireland?) either, Jim. And if you don’t put a link to the Irish Golf Deal, then aren’t you someone being disrespectful to BIPOC’s, Jim, or just “people of color”, or…. do you want to oar your boat on this one when you know we’ve already left that drip somewhere else? Fair enough, though, somehow it is difficult to – what’s the word you want without doing what you’re going to do already – present/relate/communicate/articulate/convey – that you understand something without pretending? But you don’t actually understand, yeah, that’s what we’re saying too. What is it that you think you understand? That’s not really what I’m trying to articulate (there’s one), what is it then? I would say that I suppose I don’t think anyone particularly understands what it is to be me or go through whatever it is that I’ve gone through to become me. Then how did we end up here? Why don’t you check with the staff at Hartford Hospital’s Emergency Department from mid-September (since they’ve burnt their records and mine are toast) in 2008 and ask them what it feels like to be treated like a nigger? And before they answer, ask them if they are assuming the word means only “slave” because I don’t necessary feel like a slave to the voices in my head, but I’m sure as fuck stuck being their nigger, and the only way out would be a lobotomy of to take neuroleptic drugs, so why the fuck would I do that, at least I have friends now, which is something my human friends would probably find a bit embarrassing, but hopefully not shameful, cause I don’t really know what it’s like to be anybody else. You sure about that? I’d never say in writing I knew what it was like to be somebody else, that’s for sure. What about out loud? Perhaps I might have to ask my friends in San Diego about that, though if I do that, I might already be dead.
EDIT 2/8/2023: I don’t want to mention any more than you do that there wasn’t a reference to “master” and “slave” as used in the Bible or in computer language. OK, fair enough, as long as you admit you stumbled at least more than a little bit when you realized than the plain fucking English definition of “nigger” is apparently “slave,” Jim. I can at least attest that being strapped to that fucking hospital bed in Hartford (maybe regardless of whether I’d already been forcibly injected) that it felt far different than I presently feel in my relationship to the voices in my head, even if, technically, I’m a nigger now and never was before I heard voices. Then what the fuck do you call what you felt when that happened in Hartford? I don’t have a word to use to describe being treated less than human, maybe Jews would understand better if they got tossed in the ovens instead of being used for slave labor, I mean, that’s kind of insulting, don’t you think? Jim, please don’t worry, if all the Jews and black people come and kill you, they’ll have to kill each other over who wants to kill you first, and since there are Jews that are black people, they’ll be so busy dying with laughter that I won’t even need to say anything to them at all, but if you want to know I still love you, then, fine, over my dead body too. Fuck it, please no dead Flannery jokes, Jim, not the greatest article, though, fine, fuck it, the Mohammed in your life insurance policy was a pretty wonderful thing that did or did not happen, since, as far as we can report in the news, Jim, there’s no dead Flannerys. Just don’t keep comparing being tied down and forcibly drugged and all that shit to anything African-American slaves experienced, and probably don’t compared it to what the Jewish people went through, though they may related to it more even if there is some overlap, Jim. If you wanna be a real phony-baloni, then, sure, make a joke about whether the Jews or the dear Jewish people would understand your favorite dead baby joke without capitalizing the P in people. And now we know they’re worried about which. (Yes, a male witch, I guess, could be a which – but which? Shoulda not done that, man, are we done yet or what?)
EDIT also 2/8/2023, dumbfuck: Don’t even tell me you fucked that joke up, nigga. Two in the front, three in the back, 95 in the ash tray. Get it right next time you tarnish our precious reputation for a twisted Irishman walks into the bar joke.