My Twitter account was temporarily
suspended because I called Bill O’Reilly a cracker-ass cracker. To
be fair, I knew I was violating Twitter rules. However, knowing this
racist sex offender is free to roam the earth violates my rules.
Also,
it’s kind of hysterical that I, a middle-aged white lady, had my
account suspended for using a derogatory term for white people.
Anyway,
I called the racist sex offender a cracker-ass cracker because he
tweeted this:
I
replied several times with images of Trump’s racist tweets. I have
a file full of them for just such an occasion.
I called Bill a cunt
in one of the trolling replies I posted. That tweet is still live on
Twitter while the cracker-ass cracker tweet has been removed.
You
may be wondering why cracker-ass cracker is worse than cunt. It’s
not. Twitter is a cracker-ass cunt. Case in point: They haven’t
suspended Trump’s Twitter account and I have a file full of his
racist tweets. And I report that racist sex-offending cracker-ass
cracker for violating Twitter rules all the time.
I
know it was probably a Fox News viewer/cracker-ass cracker who
reported my tweet, but I choose to believe that Bill himself read it
and I got under his skin. That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy
inside. In fact, it made me feel so good I logged into one of my
other Twitter accounts and continued trolling Bill O’Reilly. I will
not be silenced by a sex offending cracker-ass cracker.
Nor
will I be outsmarted by something called Twitter. Therefore, I shall
continue to use the term, cracker-ass cracker, with wild abandon in
this blog. Then I shall tweet a link to this blog for all the
Twitterverse to see. Suck on that, Twitter, you cracker-ass cracker.
Now
let us take a look at some of the greatest cracker-ass cracker
moments in Bill O’Reilly history.
Bill
O’Reilly on Trayvon
Martin: “The
reason Trayvon Martin died is because he looked a certain way. It
wasn’t based on skin color, if Trayvon Martin had been wearing a
jacket…and a tie…I don’t think George Zimmerman would have had
any problem with him. And that way is how “gangstas” look and
therefore he got attention.”
Please
excuse me while I write an open letter to Bill O’Reilly.
Dear
Cracker-Ass Cracker,
I
don’t know a single teenage boy of any race who would be wearing a
jacket and tie while
hanging
out in his own backyard. You can’t shoot someone for wearing a
hoodie. That is not justifiable homicide.
You
also can’t shoot someone for looking “gangsta.” Imagine if we
started shooting people who look “rapey.” You are a known sex
offender so you’ve got that
rapey look about you. You might want to think that through before you
advocate shooting people based on their looks.
Also,
don’t say “gangstas” because it makes you sound like a
cracker-ass cracker.
Warm
Wishes,
Donna
Troy
Bill
O’Reilly on Rape Victims: In
2006, O’Reilly referred to an 18-year-old rape and murder victim,
as “moronic” for getting her car towed in New York City
while she was drunk. He said,
“She was 5-foot-2, 105
pounds, wearing a miniskirt and a halter top with a bare midriff.
Now, again, there you go. So every predator in the world is gonna
pick that up at two in the morning.”
Please
excuse me while I write an open letter to Bill O’Reilly.
Dear
Cracker-Ass Cracker,
Where
were you at two in the morning on the night in question?
I
find your detailed description of the victim combined with your
bizarre need to defend the rapist quite suspect. And,
of course, the peculiar way you defended the murderer of Trayvon
Martin isn’t helping your
case. And also,
as I’ve
previously established,
you are a rapey sex offender. You
better have a solid alibi because I intend to troll you on Twitter
until you confess, you cracker-ass cracker.
Good
Luck,
Donna
Troy
Bill
O’Reilly on Bill O’Reilly, Sex Offender: “You
know, am I mad at God? Yeah, I’m mad at him. I wish I had more
protection. I wish this stuff didn’t happen. I can’t explain it
to you. Yeah, I’m mad at him.”
Please
excuse me while I write an open letter to Bill O’Reilly.
Dear
Cracker-Ass Cracker,
I’m
not a religious person, but I was quite perplexed as to why you
expected some mystical supreme being to protect you from the
consequences of your own actions. Therefore, I decided to ask God
what would lead a rapey cracker-ass cracker to believe he was
entitled to special godly protection.
Much
to my surprise, a voice in my head replied to my query. I don’t
know if the voice was God or my own imagination, but let’s just say
it was God.
First
of all, you should know God is a woman. I know this for a fact
because her voice sounds
exactly like mine. And she was kind of pissed that you kept referring
to her as a him. She was all like, “I know Bill is a white man in
America, but not all powerful beings are white men. And he needs to
know that.”
And
then God said unto me, “Donna, you and I both know Bill O’Reilly
is kind of a rapey prick and a total cracker-ass cracker. You were
right to call him that and I’m more powerful than Twitter, so
you’re good. My job as God is to protect the victims of Bill
O’Reilly, not the sex
offender, Bill O’Reilly. Bill
was a rapey prick to a considerable amount of women and he comes
crying to me because he lost his job. I’m all like, dude did a lot
of nasty things and he still gets to be a rich
white man in America. He needs
to stop whining like a little
bitch or I shall hail my wrath
upon or something all vengeful
God-like. And he needs to know
that.”
Then
I thanked God for taking the time to answer my question because I
know she’s really busy with all your victims. But now you know why
God didn’t protect you. I hope this clears things up for you, you
cracker-ass cracker.
Kind
Regards,
Donna
Troy
Moving
on to other cracker-ass
crackers, last week I was in
West Virginia visiting family. My sister and I were traveling along
Route 7 when we saw
this sign in a yard.
We
found this most ridiculous as Route 7 is literally in the middle of
nowhere. And I’m not exaggerating. The people who live there have
to drive an hour just to buy groceries. Or
maybe they just fry up some roadkill. I
don’t know. Anyway, I’m
completely baffled as to why the Route 7 people want or need the
wall. Hispanics make up one percent of the population of West
Virginia. And that’s rounding up. Even
if that percentage was higher the Route 7 people have nothing to
worry about. People who come to America looking for a better life
aren’t going to find it on Route 7 frying up roadkill.
Continuing
down the road, we came across an area where someone actually mowed,
“TRUMP 2020” into the hillside. I made my sister pull over so I
could get a picture. I didn’t think anyone would believe it if I
didn’t have photographic evidence. I don’t know if there’s
anything more cracker-ass crackerly than using a riding mower to make
a political statement.
This
brings me to my sister’s run in with a distant cousin. Though I
doubt said cousin will ever read this I’m changing her name to
avoid a family feud. I shall hereinafter refer to her as Rae Rae.
Rae
Rae: Where are you living now?
Sis:
Ashburn, VA
Rae
Rae: We lived in Manassas for
three years. I hated it there because of all the Mexicans. Well, I
don’t have to tell you. You know what they’re like.
Sis:
No. I don’t. What are they like?
Rae
Rae: Well, I was at the
laundromat one time and there were about seven of them in there. And
they kept trying to talk to me.
And
that is Rae Rae’s entire
issue with the Mexicans of Manassas. Seriously. That’s the whole
story.
Now
please excuse me while I write an open letter to the Mexicans of the
Manassas laundromat.
Dear
Mexicans of the Manassas Laundromat,
I’m
sorry my white trash cracker-ass
cracker cousin mistook your
genuine friendliness for an act of aggression.
Also,
I know there’s a better than average chance you’re not even
Mexican. My white trash cracker-ass
cracker cousin assumes all
brown people are Mexican.
So,
just deepest apologies for my white trash cousin’s cracker-ass
cracker ways to
all people who frequent the Manassas laundromat.
Warm
Regards,
Donna
Troy
Namaste,
Bitches
