When I was in college, every Sat after an AU win, my (Black) friends and I would crash (white) keg parties on frat row. It was basically how we pre-gamed and —I SWEAT TUG ODD— every time, at least ONE FRAT GUY would offer us some coke. We always politely declined.
So one night, we’re at one of these Caucasian shindigs partaking in the complimentary Natty Lite when I see a Chet whispering in my homeboy’s ear.
I knew what he wanted.
My friend shook his head as in “no,” but he had a disgusted look on his face. He grabbed me like we were about to be the victims of a beer-fueled intramural lynching and left.
Him: Do you know what that white boy just asked me?
Me: let me guess. He offered you some coke.
Him: at first he did. But then he asked me if I wanted some CRACK!
I pointed out that the only difference between doing a little nose candy and smoking rocks is the recipe. “Why are you mad at the baking soda?” I joked.
Anyway Shapiro thinks his brand of white nationalism is better than that crackhead Nick Fuentes’
Tucker Carlson is just the baking soda.