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Lance is tooling down a lonely stretch of a backwoods Alabama highway, texting to his significant other, when WHAM! he hits something or someone.
He gets out of his car, and lying there, struggling and moaning is a black kid, probably in his late teens. “Dаrn niggеrs,” Lance mutters, “they jaywalk anywhere and everywhere.” He calls 911, but by the time an ambulance gets there, the black mofu is food for the worms.
A big-bellied Alabama sheriff rolls up to the scene and begins to write up a report. “You know this will affect your driving privileges,” the sheriff says. “Most likely about eight points.”
Lance is sweating. “Eight points and vehicular homicide. Will I still be able to drive here in Alabama, sir?”
The sheriff looks up from his writing out the report. “Oh this won’t affect your ability to drive, son. See, here in Alabama we have a bounty of these niggеrs. It’s open season all year. You get the eight points ADDED as a BONUS to your driving record, not the other way around.”
“Yup, I would say you landed yourself an eight point buck!”
The priest said,
"Sister, this is a silent monastery. You are welcome here as long as you like, but you may not speak until directed to do so."
Sister Mary lived in the monastery for 5 years before the priest said to her, 'Sister Mary, you have been here for 5 years. You may speak two words."
Sister Mary said,
"Hard bed."
"I'm sorry to hear that," the priest said,
"We will get you a better bed."
After another 5 years, Sister Mary was summoned by the Priest:
"You may say another two words, Sister Mary."
"Cold food," said Sister Mary, and the priest assured her that the food would be better in the future. On her 15th anniversary at the monastery, the priest again called Sister Mary in to his office. "You may say two words today."
"I quit," said Sister Mary. "It's probably best," said the priest, "You've done nothing but complain since you got here."