Innocent Racist remarks over Actual Racial Hate
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I... I really like Huck Finn...
Once I said to myself it would be a thousand times better for Jim to be a slave at home where his family was, as long as he's got to be a slave, and so I'd better write a letter to Tom Sawyer and tell him to tell Miss Watson where he was. But I soon give up that notion, for two things: she'd be mad and disgusted at his rascality and ungratefulness for leaving her, and so she'd sell him straight down the river again; and if she didn't, everybody naturally despises an ungrateful ******, and they'd make Jim feel it all the time, and so he'd feel ornery and disgraced. And then think of me! It would get all around, that Huck Finn helped a ****** to get his freedom; and if I was to ever see anybody from that town again, I'd be ready to get down and lick his boots for shame. That's just the way: a person does a low-down thing, and then he don't want to take no consequences of it. Thinks as long as he can hide it, it ain't no disgrace. That was my fix exactly. The more I studied about this, the more my conscience went to grinding me, and the more wicked and low-down and ornery I got to feeling. And at last, when it hit me all of a sudden that here was the plain hand of Providence slapping me in the face and letting me know my wickedness was being watched all the time from up there in heaven, whilst I was stealing a poor old woman's ****** that hadn't ever done me no harm, and now was showing me there's One that's always on the lookout, and ain't agoing to allow no such miserable doings to go only just so fur and no further, I most dropped in my tracks I was so scared. Well, I tried the best I could to kinder soften it up somehow for myself, by saying I was brung up wicked, and so I warn't so much to blame; but something inside of me kept saying, "There was the Sunday school, you could a gone to it; and if you'd a done it they'd a learnt you, there, that people that acts as I'd been acting about that ****** goes to everlasting fire."
It made me shiver. And I about made up my mind to pray; and see if I couldn't try to quit being the kind of a boy I was, and be better. So I kneeled down. But the words wouldn't come. Why wouldn't they? It warn't no use to try and hide it from Him. Nor from me, neither. I knowed very well why they wouldn't come. It was because my heart warn't right; it was because I warn't square; it was because I was playing double. I was letting on to give up sin, but away inside of me I was holding on to the biggest one of all. I was trying to make my mouth say I would do the right thing and the clean thing, and go and write to that ******'s owner and tell where he was; but deep down in me I knowed it was a lie-and He knowed it. You can't pray a lie- I found that out.
So I was full of trouble, full as I could be; and didn't know what to do. At last I had an idea; and I says, I'll go and write the letter- and then see if I can pray. Why, it was astonishing, the way I felt as light as a feather, right straight off, and my troubles all gone. So I got a piece of paper and a pencil, all glad and excited, and set down and wrote:
Miss Watson your runaway ****** Jim is down here two mile below Pikesville and Mr. Phelps has got him and he will give him up for the reward if you send. HUCK FINN
I felt good and all washed clean of sin for the first time I had ever felt so in my life, and I knowed I could pray now. But I didn't do it straight off, but laid the paper down and set there thinking- thinking how good it was all this happened so, and how near I come to being lost and going to hell. And went on thinking. And got to thinking over our trip down the river; and I see Jim before me, all the time; in the day, and in the night-time, sometimes moonlight, sometimes storms, and we a floating along, talking, and singing, and laughing. But somehow I couldn't seem to strike no places to harden me against him, but only the other kind. I'd see him standing my watch on top of his'n, stead of calling me, so I could go on sleeping; and see him how glad he was when I come back out of the fog; and when I come to him agin in the swamp, up there where the feud was; and such-like times; and would always call me honey, and pet me, and do everything he could think of for me, and how good he always was; and at last I struck the time I saved him by telling the men we had smallpox aboard, and he was so grateful, and said I was the best friend old Jim ever had in the world, and the only one he's got now; and then I happened to look around, and see that paper.
It was a close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself:
"All right, then, I'll go to hell"- and tore it up.
It was awful thoughts, and awful words, but they was said. And I let them stay said; and never thought no more about reforming. I shoved the whole thing out of my head; and said I would take up wickedness again, which was in my line, being brung up to it, and the other warn't. And for a starter, I would go to work and steal Jim out of slavery again; and if I could think up anything worse, I would do that, too; because as long as I was in, and in for good, I might as well go the whole hog.
Damn, that always makes me cry, but oh noes the n-word!
It made me shiver. And I about made up my mind to pray; and see if I couldn't try to quit being the kind of a boy I was, and be better. So I kneeled down. But the words wouldn't come. Why wouldn't they? It warn't no use to try and hide it from Him. Nor from me, neither. I knowed very well why they wouldn't come. It was because my heart warn't right; it was because I warn't square; it was because I was playing double. I was letting on to give up sin, but away inside of me I was holding on to the biggest one of all. I was trying to make my mouth say I would do the right thing and the clean thing, and go and write to that ******'s owner and tell where he was; but deep down in me I knowed it was a lie-and He knowed it. You can't pray a lie- I found that out.
So I was full of trouble, full as I could be; and didn't know what to do. At last I had an idea; and I says, I'll go and write the letter- and then see if I can pray. Why, it was astonishing, the way I felt as light as a feather, right straight off, and my troubles all gone. So I got a piece of paper and a pencil, all glad and excited, and set down and wrote:
Miss Watson your runaway ****** Jim is down here two mile below Pikesville and Mr. Phelps has got him and he will give him up for the reward if you send. HUCK FINN
I felt good and all washed clean of sin for the first time I had ever felt so in my life, and I knowed I could pray now. But I didn't do it straight off, but laid the paper down and set there thinking- thinking how good it was all this happened so, and how near I come to being lost and going to hell. And went on thinking. And got to thinking over our trip down the river; and I see Jim before me, all the time; in the day, and in the night-time, sometimes moonlight, sometimes storms, and we a floating along, talking, and singing, and laughing. But somehow I couldn't seem to strike no places to harden me against him, but only the other kind. I'd see him standing my watch on top of his'n, stead of calling me, so I could go on sleeping; and see him how glad he was when I come back out of the fog; and when I come to him agin in the swamp, up there where the feud was; and such-like times; and would always call me honey, and pet me, and do everything he could think of for me, and how good he always was; and at last I struck the time I saved him by telling the men we had smallpox aboard, and he was so grateful, and said I was the best friend old Jim ever had in the world, and the only one he's got now; and then I happened to look around, and see that paper.
It was a close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself:
"All right, then, I'll go to hell"- and tore it up.
It was awful thoughts, and awful words, but they was said. And I let them stay said; and never thought no more about reforming. I shoved the whole thing out of my head; and said I would take up wickedness again, which was in my line, being brung up to it, and the other warn't. And for a starter, I would go to work and steal Jim out of slavery again; and if I could think up anything worse, I would do that, too; because as long as I was in, and in for good, I might as well go the whole hog.
Damn, that always makes me cry, but oh noes the n-word!
Because of his three bags of wool, he has "one for my master".canadamus_prime said:
Yes, that is the stupidest thing you've ever heard.
I think the whiteness of The Escapist is coming out. Clearly If the people complaining about PC actually knew some real Black People and not the ones they see in the street or on the TV then you'd realize that they don't care about any of this stuff either. There are extremists of any race stop letting them dictate your opinion of a whole race.
Has any one ever been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like?willsham45 said:
OT:
You look at the idiot and say "You, good sir, are an idiot not because of the color of your skin, but do to the content of your character." I shit you not, they will no longer call you racist.
What... What are you even saying...? I can't understand any of it...
It doesn't strike me as racist, though. So... I guess you're good?
You know... The word "picnic" is racist. It's really too much to fill your head with.
It doesn't strike me as racist, though. So... I guess you're good?
You know... The word "picnic" is racist. It's really too much to fill your head with.
The banning of this book from public schools causes me rage like you cannot believe.octafish said:
The only way I could possibly see it being racist is if it's short for pickanninny but honestly that word died back in the 1870's.The Axon Hillock said:
While you have a valid point and it would be wonderful if everyone could look at this topic with a clear head and see that what you are saying is true, the fact of the matter is, its the teachers and the public figures that are the ones going on about being PC. Im from New Zealand where these problems arn't as big as they are in other countries, as in, we havn't had anything banned from our schools due to "racist" componants, but in our government there is a definite racism towards minorities. Its this which changes peoples mindsets about other races, and in that lies the problem. If they could just put it all behind them and realise, like most of us that wwe are all humans regardless of skin colour, then this problem would cease to exist.clipse15 said:
I'm not disagreeing with the notion that there isn't real and powerful forms of racism. My charge is against those that feel that the Black Population can't understand context. As if just by saying the word Black will cause every negro in a 10 mile radius to descend and swoop them upAlphadeux said:
Yes. Exactly. The PC police can catch you on the slightest offense (I had a college sociology professor that refused to say "Picnic" for this very reason). It's too much to worry about. My rule of thumb is to be nice to people and the rest will fall into place. And it's worked out. Mostly...newfoundsky said:
What?! Those political correctness fuckheads are aware that we're talking about a fucking SHEEP! It's not unusual or politically incorrect for a sheep to have a master. ...unless maybe you ask an animal rights activist.lacktheknack said:
Everyone is so racially sensitive, I make fun of my friend Tinneh (from this site) daily about being Irish. Does he get offended? No because he knows I'm joking. So many people get bent out of shape from simple words, if you say black someone gets mad, if you say African American someone getsmad, if you call someone Mexican they'll freak out because they're from Spain.
Now I can understand pride about where you're family came from but no one knows unless you've told them. How does one tell? How about we just get over these silly things and realize black, white, red, green, yellow whatever color your skin is you're human. Take off the skin and you're the same as the guy next to you ...skinned that is. Race doesn't make you better or worse than anyone else, unless you're from Pluto then you're just a victim of classification .
Now I can understand pride about where you're family came from but no one knows unless you've told them. How does one tell? How about we just get over these silly things and realize black, white, red, green, yellow whatever color your skin is you're human. Take off the skin and you're the same as the guy next to you ...skinned that is. Race doesn't make you better or worse than anyone else, unless you're from Pluto then you're just a victim of classification .
Well racism is penologist a group. If I hate my boss because they tell me to do work or my neighbor for telling me off for playing my music too lowd or hell the guy who came up with the supper intuitive spelling for Neighbor It does not matter if they are coloured have a certain religion, what age they are or what sub sub group they are in i did like them due to what the have directly done to me or the world there own not there groupStalk3rchief said:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLotehGgbiE
As usual, South Park hits the nail on the head with this one.
As usual, South Park hits the nail on the head with this one.