Mark Twain and the School Bus.

How do the two tied together?  Well, I’ve been called a Twain like author.  I calls as I sees ’em!  I use the racism of the day in every day things, like rolling down the Mississippi River as did Twain.  An English teacher told me that.  I can’t wait for the day that My Books get banned in schools.  Maybe they would use them as fuel for the book burning brigade!  That’s what we have to look forward to if politically correct schooling keeps on saying what could and couldn’t be in the library to learn from.  Twain had the most colorful language and imagination of telling of two boys adventures back in the day.  He used the correct language of the day. So, that is what I’m going to do today in the telling of riding the school bus back in early 1970’s.

 

I grew up in the city until I hit my early teens.  I had only one or two blacks in my school.  Nobody bothered them.  They were smart and had  excellent grades.  Nobody beat them or fought like wild animals. I walked to school, no school buses. I believe I was around 12 maybe when we moved.  After the integration we were all going to different schools so Daddy took us to the country where everybody goes to the same schools.  Introduction to my own little Island of hell on the Lake of Fire, the school bus.  We all went to the same school so every damn body was on the bus.  From the white kids from the city to the  multitudes of poor black kids.  Of course there were many more black kids on the bus than there were white kids. The bullying, spitting, books thrown into your face and the sexual assaults suffered every day by black boys on white girls. All you had to do was walk down the aisle of the bus and they reached out and grabbed boobs or ass. And you knew no one was going to try and help you because they didn’t want their asses whooped by gangs of blacks, windmilling the  hell out of you. Not with their knuckles but by hammers of fists. So, goes the story of the bus.  Let me go on with the story.

 

In the summer time those hoards of poor black boys and girls were trying to do something with those Afro’s with Crisco used for frying chicken. The smell was awful with the summer heat, getting horrible. Many of them didn’t have running water so they had little water and didn’t bath for maybe a week?  The B.O.’s  smell with the windows rolled down to try and escape the heat were horrible.  Smelly arm pits and nasty ass smell.  Oh! the breath too.  You need to be 6 foot back to escape that smell also. When they screamed in your face, oh God, I almost died. They bounced paper wads off in your hair and head, just trying get you mad, so you would strike back so the whole bus can jump on your ass.  This was the year of integration!!!  Didn’t the negroes want to play nice?  This was the beginning of white genocide. Negroes never want to jump you by themselves Oh no!  They need a gang just like today.  BLACK LIVES MATTER my ass.  Just another excuse for forming the majority blacks to beat to death white people.  A HATE  group and nothing is being done about it. I am still on my little island of hell in the Lake of Fire.

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About 1wanderingtruthseeker

I'm a fiftish woman that has opinions and passions about nearly everything under the sun. I love a good debate, not name calling. I believe in the Constitution , the Bill of Rights and God. I believe the government which governs the least is the best government of all. I believe in the rights of the people. I dispatched fire trucks, the Po-Po and ambulances for a long time so I have a wicked sense of dark humor and speak fluent sarcasm. I think out loud a lot times. I am offensive. But I'm offensive of everybody. Socially unacceptable, plain spoken and unashamed. If you don't want to be offend, please don't read and if you do, please consider that I'm not politically correct in any sense of the word.
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