A trip to the bank

“I Need to make a withdrawal.”

Of MY money that I earned from working my butt off to pay for lazy DEMS to sit at home and smoke dope all day.

“Okay, sir, do you know your account number?”


“Okay, I’ll just need to see your ID.”

Gotta show my ID to get MY money. Illegals get to vote and drive and live off welfare and get free healthcare and take half of my paycheck…

He hands over his driver’s license.

“Address still correct?”


They probably gave you this job ’cause you’re BLACK.

She counts the money out into a neat stack in between them. “Here you go, sir, you have a blessed day.”

“You too.”

Security guard eyeballs my sidearm every time I come in here. Prolly some libtard snowflake. Get over it, libtard! Killary lost!


He smiles uncomfortably at the little girl standing in the entryway. The mom, a chubby foreigner(He can’t tell where from, maybe she’s an Arab), smiles at him.

He nods and brushes past.

Must be up here cashing their welfare check to send home to ISIS.

He shakes his head. What’s this world coming to?

He gets in his truck, starts it… Rush Limbaugh’s voice fills the cab like carbon monoxide.

5 thoughts on “A trip to the bank

  1. It must be torture, having these rageful, paranoid thoughts saturate one’s brain at all times. Imagine the effect that a steady diet(four or five hours a day)of relentless angry ranting plus online articles and memes in that same vein has on a person’s psyche. It allows them to feel like victims, which makes them feel justified in being assholes.

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