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Opinion: If No One Else Will, Fine, I’ll Be the Racist Uncle

Before we start eating, I’d just like to say what we’re all thinking. This is our first Christmas without Uncle Randy. Obviously, we all dearly miss him. The holiday just won’t be the same without his charming smile, his delicious candied yams, and his repugnant rants about ethnic and racial minorities “poisoning our white Christian nation.” God rest his racist, hate-filled, twice-divorced soul.

However, holidays are about tradition. So with Uncle Randy gone, someone needs to take up the mantle of racist uncle. It just wouldn’t be the same otherwise. And thanks to the god damn Detroit Lions who can’t cover a spread if they were a knife, that person this year is me. Fine, I guess I’ll just be the racist uncle this year.

While I may not believe the revolting things I’m about to say, we need to keep the tradition of having a racist, piece of shit uncle that ruins every holiday dinner alive. So without further adieu, get ready for a whole heck of a lot of racism, folks.

Hey, cousin Jeff. Couldn’t help but notice that your girlfriend is not white. Boy, I would prefer she not be here. Maybe she could, you know, go back to her own country. Quit trying to pollute our pure white bloodline, ya goofball.

Look, I’m doing the best that I can. I only had 30 minutes to prepare and for as racist as the Internet is, there’s no “Racism for Dummies” on Kindle. Ordering it off Amazon would take too long even with same day shipping.

Jiminy Christmas this is so much harder than I thought it would be!

How about Jews, right? Enough with those guys. Learn to… drive, I suppose. And hey, Puerto Ricans. Why are you so bad about responding to texts. Especially when I send really funny memes. Actually that might just be my coworker Yadier.

Jamaicans love bobsledding? Is that one?

Uhhh… uhhh… Norwegians? We all know they smell, right? That seems like a thing. Smell like….whale blubber? Actually Iceland has a more robust whaling industry. Well then they probably smell. Send ‘em back, I say.

Ok, that should satisfy our racism quota for this holiday. Nan, please start the prayer so dad can serve the food. You’re welcome. Now next year, can I please take the role of fuck-up cousin Kara and show up stoned out of my mind?