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The following stories are real involving coontact gathered from a variety of people and locations. These stories were gathered from mainstream chatboards and posted by people just like you and me.

Coontact Tale #201(June 5, 2004) Another "Giving Black women The Finger" Tale Courtesy of GBWTF From FC

Giving Black Women The Finger, Volume 1, Issue 6

Today's installment is only mildly amusing, but I still enjoyed myself. Yesterday afternoon, as I drove home from work and took my usual excursion through the projects, I spotted a young-ish black woman strollling jauntily down the sidewalk. She was done up in a tight stretch skirt, a halter top under a half-length studded denim jacket, with a shock of nappy hair sprouting straight out of the top of her head, tied up with a neon pink thingy. Shiny, expensive basketball shoes, with no socks. I couldn't tell if she was a hooker or not, but with young black women in the projects these days, there's little difference.

So I pulled my time-tested routine - slow the car down to a crawl until I'm even with her. Wait until she notices me and make eye contact. Flash a supremely confident smile of condescention. And then, like the sun coming up on the Atlantic, slowly raise the Finger. Often, I'll give a little wink or something once the birdie is at full extension; this time, I flared my eyebrows, Jack Nicholson-style.

She stopped in her tracks and made a "What I do?" gesture. I waved the Finger for her a little bit, maintaining my unctuous grin. Then in a flash, she started rifling through her bag, screaming, "Oh yeah? I got one for you, muthafucka! You in it now, white-ass muthafucka!"

Now at this point, I'm a bit worried. I fully expected her to pull a handgun out of the bag and open fire. To my relief, she pulled out a cell phone, and started jabbing wildly at the numbers - I counted about 17 digits. If she wanted me to believe she was actually calling someone... well, let's just say that her performance wasn't convincing. "Hello, Nine-One-One?" she screamed, head bobbing hilariously with each pronounced number. "Yeah, I gots to report a... a..."

At that point, you could see the gears turning in her nigress head: Exactly what crime am I reporting here? I started laughing harder than ever.

As I gradually started to pull away, she really began to scream at full volume, reading my license plate number to the her imaginary friend, the 911 operator: "D! N! T! ONE! SIX! NINE!" And then, abandoning the pretense of the 911 call and gesturing at me violently with the cell phone itself: "AH GOTS YO NUMBER, MUTHAFUCKA! MUTHAFUCKA!"

I laughed all the way to my fine suburban home, giving a friendly wave to my white neighbors, had myself a great meal, watched The Sopranos, then laughed some more before bedtime.

Author's note: DNT-169 is not my actual license plate number.

Coontact Tale #202(June 7, 2004)

In the trolley cars in SF, right next to the Fisherman's Warf, a black dude stole a purse and a wallet from a guy.

Said guy turn around and beat the shit out of the black motherfucker. Then another dude joined in the fun and broke the black dude's nose.

Minutes later, when the police arrived, the black dude complained about his mistreatment, stating that he was abused of because "he was black".

Coontact Tale #203(June 7, 2004)

Great Site. If I may here is one of my stories. Some years back I worked security for a major west coast department store in Alaska. Anyway one day in midwinter, with the outside temperature a balmy 40 degrees below zero I'm watching the store entrances from my office through our network of 20 plus security cameras.

Lo and behold in walks a brother, about 20 years old with no coat through our apparel entrance, heading for our expensive coat racks. I zoom the camera in recording everything, this stupid fuck takes a leather Raiders jacket off the rack , looks up at the camera, tears the tags off and puts it on. He then walks along the front of the store and I have to see which direction he is going to find out which door he is going to go out of. Of course its the door at the opposite end of the building from where I am.

I haul ass out of the office (I was working alone that day) and as he heads out the hardware exit he looks back and sees me gaining on him and its off to the races. Now our parking lot is covered in about a foot of snow and ice but I'm pretty fast and just as I'm about to tackle he cuts to the right, ie back along the front of the store and I go sliding face first across the parking lot.

Several other non security employees had follwed me out to help catch this guy but they just keep missing him by inches too. By this time I'm back on my feet, gaining on him and he turns his head back over his shoulder to see how close I am when I see one of our short apparel managers blindside him in a huge cloud of snow. Damn did that fucker hit that nigger hard.

Anyway I cuff his ass take him back to my office and call the state troopers since our store was outside city limits. I call the troopers and tell them I have a shoplifter and they say to just tresspass him and send him on his way. I said " but this guys name is Rawshan X. Niggerstink" (not his real name, obviously), man it sounded like a chinese firedrill on the other end of the phoneline. "we'll be right there" they said.

It turns out Mr. Niggerstink had escaped from police custody afer being picked up on a parole violation a couple days before, and in fact had gotten away from a police dog when he ran through some snow that was too deep for the dog to negotiate. Whats more he had been profiled on our local news "Most Wanted" program. And the stupid nig steals a coat. But wait , there's more.

When the troopers come rawshawn is blubbering that he didnt steal the coat, that his momma gave him that coat as a gift and the rascict store dick was just hasslin' the brother. I smile and let him call his mammy from my desk with the cop standing there, and the bitch says yes, she gave him the coat!!!! The cop, who knows me and knows I wouldn't fuck up says "you don't have this on tape do you?" I said "Gee I don't know lets go see" so in my inner office we go and there's Rawshawn in all his african technicolor glory, you could't tell if it was live or memorex.

The trooper comes back out and says "Guess what, your still under arrest" at which point rawshawn starts wailing like you see in south africa.

One footnote to this story, my office was pretty warm and this whole episode took about an hour and during this time the oder of shit starts to permeate my office. we all look at each other then at Mr. Jacket thief and between sobs he says he shit his pants when he got tackled in the parking lot, and he's been sitting there this whole time with a big load of real niggerstink in his pants.

The trooper drug his ass off to jail (shitty pants and all) and I went and bought that assisstant manager who took him down a cup of coffee.

Man, I loved busting niggers, they were soooo stupid.

Coontact Tale #204(June 8, 2004)

I'm in line at the drugstore buying some cigarettes and condoms. Just ahead of me is a nig wearing ripped clothes the Salvation Army wouldn't even take. It STINKS in a way I can't begin to describe, and it's muttering to itself unintelligibly. It gets to the cashier, a tiny Indian woman with a dot on her forehead, and slams down on the counter a liter of some liquor so cheap I don't even recognize it.

The poor dothead girl is visibly scared of this guy, but tells him quietly they won't sell him any liquor. The nig starts ranting and raving in her face, "Why won' you sell to a black man! Ah'm a veteran damnit!". Dothead calls the manager, manager shows up and tells the nig to take a hike. Now that a man is confronting him instead of a 90-pound indian lady, the nig backs down, heads for the door, but starts hollering, "HELL OF A WAY TO TREAT A VETERAN, MAN ! WHAT DA FUCK IS DIS COUNTRY COMIN TO!"

The dothead lady was still scared by the time he left, so I told her, "I think he has a crush on you". I think it made her feel better.

Coontact Tale #205(June 8, 2004)

Something different today; a movie review.

Several weeks ago, I had the displeasure of seeing “Johnson Family Vacation,” a film so shamefully bad that I was sure it would top my “Worst of the Year” list in December. I thought my job in finding the most deplorable film of the year was done.

Then soon after “Johnson” was behind me, I started seeing trailers for a movie called “Soul Plane,” which boasted the trio of Tom Arnold, Method Man, and Snoop Dogg as its lead stars. Together at last indeed – a true dream team if there ever was one. Groan. I began to wonder if this film could be as bad or worse than “Johnson Family Vacation,” and my worst fears have now been fully realized.

“Soul Plane” is beyond bad. It obliterates the line between poor and unwatchable by being so thoroughly detestable from the very first frame to the fade out. When a film finds time in the first five minutes to make jokes about animal cruelty and human feces (and they pop up again and again), how much lower can they possibly go for the remaining 82? This might be the part where the TV advertisement would say “watch ‘Soul Plane’ to find out,” but no one in good conscience should ever make such a recommendation.

The real main character is a young man named Nashawn Wade (Kevin Hart), who is awarded $100 million from a sympathetic jury after a totally unfeasible and unfunny accident on an airplane. Nashawn takes his new money and buys NWA (Nashawn Wade Airlines) and “pimps” a jumbo jet to include a nightclub, hydraulics, and spinning wheels. He also names the terminal Malcolm X – how creative.

The plot then follows Nashawn trying to get back and ex-girlfriend named Giselle (K.D. Aubert), the proverbial “one he let get away.” The movie actually tries to play these scenes as dramatic, as if they could actually be accepted in a legitimate film. The rest of the movie is a scattershot collection of what might loosely be termed a “story,” but are closer to a collection of semi-related skits that continually fall flat.

Tom Arnold plays Elvis Hunkee, the patriarch of the Hunkee (sounds a lot like Honky doesn’t it, har har) family, who unknowingly get placed on board the Soul Plane. His girlfriend Barbara (Missi Pyle) and his two children, Billy (Ryan Pinkston) and Heather (Arielle Kebbel) react differently to this situation.

Barbara leaves Elvis for the first black man she meets. Billy becomes an assistant director to a rap video that happens to be shooting on the plane. Heather, who is turning 18 during the course of the flight, takes every opportunity to rebel against her father, which results in the two having a heart-to-heart late in the film that is supposed to be something other than a joke. Where writers Bo Zenga and Chuck Wilson got the idea that they could write anything serious (or seriously funny) is a seemingly unsolvable mystery.

The screenplay thrives on stereotypes of all kinds. Every negative black stereotype is utilized here, right down to the passengers in the “low class” section of the plane passing around boxes of Popeye’s Chicken.

The other prominently abused stereotype is the homosexual male. The plane’s co-pilot (Godfrey C. Danchimah) is saddled with the name Gaeman (just guess how that is pronounced), and he reminds everyone on several occasions that he is the opposite of his cosmically awarded name. On the other hand, the imaginatively named Flame (Gary Anthony Williams) embodies every generalization about homosexuals.

Other characters pop up and do little other than annoy. Mo’Nique must believe that being loud and obnoxious is funny, because that is all her flight attendant character does. John Witherspoon plays a blind man who molests every woman he sees. Method Man just appears from time to time, never really doing anything of note. Snoop Dogg is cast as the pilot of the plane, and he fails to do anything outside of what he has done in every performance thus far. He might as well have just played himself. Finally, Karl Malone of the Los Angeles Lakers adds one of the most useless cameos of all-time, which only serves to fuel this film’s racist fire.

This incredible waste of celluloid is not just racist, unfunny and homophobic, but it also displays bad taste at every opportunity. Jokes about an Arab man boarding the plane and Michael Jackson reek of poor taste, and display (as if there was any doubt), that there was a serious lack of imagination behind this entire project.

The 411 .::. An unpleasant, witless, charmless train wreck of a film, “Soul Plane” is as bad as they get. Let’s hope this is the real worst movie of 2004.


Thanks for making "Kill Bill, Volume 2" such an interactive experience.

Coontact Tale #206(June 8, 2004)

well I witnessed a mild black outburst today

it was at Fry's at the counter next to me

scenario went something like this

customer: [handing over credit card to cashier to pay for a 10 dollar item]

cashier: sir, this card is not under your name

cust: yes, it's my wife's

cash: I'd like to see some ID please

cust: [stares at cashier with that wtf look]. It's a 10 dollar item man why are you giving me a hard time?

cash: sir, I need to see some ID because this is not your card.

cust: it's because I'm black isn't it ? loud voice clearly heard now

cash: no sir, It is store policy

cust: I need to talk to your manager

cash: [walks away to get manager]

manager: [arrives after a few minutes. the manager is a black female.] what seems to be the problem ?

cust: why are you treating me like this ?

manager: sir, it is store policy to see ID when the card presented does not belong to you. It has a woman's name on it.

cust: IT's a 10 DOLLAR ITEM !!

manager: it does not matter, we will do the same even if it is for a dollar.

cust: fuck it, I'll pay in cash. [opens wallet grabs bills and tosses it to the counter]

manager says thank you and leaves. Cashier is left to settle the transaction.

Coontact Tale #207(June 8, 2004)

I Witnessed A *BLACK OUTBURST* At Whole Foods Today!!!

04/09/04 09:32 pm

I was walking up to the entrance and saw this rather large black woman trying to seperate two shopping carts in front of the store. After a while, the black woman was still trying to pry them apart. A white woman, who also wanted a cart, eventally walked up and started to pull on one of the carts in an effort to help the black woman free the cart.

Immediately, the BLACK OUTBURST Begun...


White woman: "Well, I just wanted to help you..."


White woman: " "

Me: " "

Black woman " "

White woman: "Whatever...grumble, grumble (I think I make out the word 'niqqer')"

Me (to black woman): "Jesus Fuck, lady. And you wonder why people hate your kind?!?!"

Black woman: " "

This is where I neatly excused myself and scurried into the store. The whole thing was weird. VERY surreal. What was this black woman doing at a whole foods? This wasn't a successful looking, business suit and gold rim gucci sunglasses kind of black woman, but a halter top holding 50-EEs and sandals kind of black woman. The kind of person you'd expect to see at the welfare line, not an upscale supermarket.

Inside the store, I looked forward to seeing her again to have a bit more fun, but I never did...

Coontact Tale #208(June 14, 2004)

Nigger wanting a refund on a pack of gum.

I went to the dollar store next door for my morning Diet Coke With Crack Lime fix and heard this exchange:

CFDG: Cool Family Dollar Guy

AH: Asshat Nigger

AH: *mumble mumble* Dis gum is stale! I mean, it don't taste bad, but it don't taste right!

CFDG: Okay, well, I've got a pack from the same case here in my pocket, and it tastes fine to me *displays gum* but maybe there was a bad pack or something--

AH: I ain't tryin' to play you! Dis gum is STALE! It ain't sweet! Here, you try a--

CFDG: Tell you what, why don't I just give you a refund?

AH: ....aight.

CFDG: Okay, I just need your phone number...

AH: Why I gotta give you dat? Why I gotta go to all dat trouble to get my money back?

Me: *thinking* Why CFDG gotta go to all that trouble over a fucking fifty-cent pack of gum!?

AH: And I gotta fill dis out? ("Dis" being a two-inch long bit on the return receipt that asked for name and address, and signature) Why I gotta do dat? Nex' time I buy somethin', I'm gonna make you fill something out!

CFDG: Hey, man, I don't make the rules about the returns. Sorry.

AH: *mumblemumble*

CFDG: And here's your refund (a whopping 54 cents).

AH: Thankya. *exit*

I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking CFDG to fill out a form for me when I got up to the register.

Stupid fucking nigggers.

Coontact Tale #209(June 16, 2004)

Not your typical Coontact Tale but something I pulled off the net.


kid had swim lessons last nite

there are about 8 kids in class

mainly white, a couple spicks and one black kid

the black kid gets dropped off early and the mother just scrams

everyone else has a parent who sticks around during the lesson

the black kid is scared to death of water and today after 4 weeks of lessons finally put his head under. everyone was proud of him- kids, teachers, the parents who are there

lesson is over

i stick around and swim with my kid after the lesson

the black kid is still there

his mother does not show up and a swim teacher is forced to stay there with him. no cell number is left to call, etc

after about 45 minutes the black mother shows up

the kid says "mama I stuck my head under water today"

the mother grunts and says some thing like "whatever" oblivious to the kids triumph

the son asks for some of the popeyes. she says "it my dinner, you had a peanut butter sandwich in school already"

the mother then see the leftover cookies my wife had baked and takes them all with her

the kid is dragged to the lots in bathing suit-no shirt-no shoes.

i ask the swim instructor about it. she says that the mom shows up 45min-1 hour late every time, but is usually drunk

there you have it. the simple reasons why blacks are so fucked up.

they start off life ok, but the pisspoor parenting and selfish "bling" philosphy ruins their lives

Coontact Tale #210(June 16, 2004)

My girlfriend's family has a Chinese restaurant in a medium sized town with quite a few black customers.

I was in there the other day and a retarded black woman (45 or so) with her friend walks in and places an order. They ask to sit down in the dining area while they wait. My girlfriend's sister hesitates for a split second before saying Yes and they went apeshit.

Fuck this, fuck that. "My daddy was in Korea" (too stupid to realize Korea != China), "damn chinks", "gooks", these muddafuckers", etc. Just yelling outload for a good 5 minutes, practically talking to herself (with her friend going "uh huh, you right, uh uh). My respect for black people hit rock bottom that day. Not to mention that I always get a laugh when blacks accuse asians of racism (hint: they are a minority compared to you).

Another funny one was when a black customer threatened a lawsuit for a $5 refund (even had a real lawyer file the letter). Utterly fucking retarded.

Coontact Tale #211(June 16, 2004)

I like how they cut in line ahead of you and dare you to say or do something. This is happening often. For instance:

At Monkey Wards, two people in line ahead of me. When I get to the cashier, two black whales butt ahead of me, the clerk rolls her eyes and does nothing.

At the qwik-shop, waiting again behind some old lady who is taking forever. Two black dudes are in the back getting some cokes. When I get to the front of the line, these apes just reach around me, put their shit on the counter and pay. The clerk comped me a lighter.

Same fucking thing happened at the qwik-shop a few weeks later.

Thing is, if you complain, they will get rowdy and noisy. Cops come, etc. Disturbing the peace, blah blah.

Coontact Tale #212(June 16, 2004)

I watched this nigger female drive her flat bed cart - full of tv and video game stuff - at best buy into the ankles of everyone in line at best buy the other day. People were waiting there and it was like they were getting shot athey just sort of jerked and shifted. She had this look on her face like "I dare you to say something"

One lady did and the nigger said "who the fuck you talkin' to bitch you best be gettin out ma way" It was insane.

To her credit, she got to the front of the line without having to wait. People just let her go.

The kids with her just walked silently with their heads down - I doubt out of embarresment, but out of fear of the receiving end of the sociopath

they should be eradicated.

Coontact Tale #213(June 16, 2004)

I saw this happen at Super KMart once. These whales had two shopping carts full of groceries and crap. After getting rung up, it was taking forever to get their card approved. The line stopped for 15 minutes. Another line opened up and they transferred everybody over to that line. The whales are yelling a carrying on 'racist mofo this, racist mofo that'. As I was leaving, the cops arrived. Stolen credit card.

Coontact Tale #214(June 16, 2004)

Once I was in the rocery store and there was a woman of color with her four children. One of the kids got her finger stuck in the freezer door and she yelled out in pain. She was crying. The mother: "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! YOU OKAY. SHUT YO MOUFF. SHUT UP! GIRL WHY YOU ALWAYS GETTIN YOSELF HURT. SHUT UP!" I couldnt believe what I was hearing.

Coontact Tale #215(June 16, 2004)

Anyone hear Stern this morning? King of all Blacks, a black streetsweeper from NY, was on.

He was in an argument with Big Black (another idiot) about who was the true black man. King of all Blacks said that all he cared about was material things - expensive clothes, cars, and even bedsheets (he started going on about his fancy linen and for a minute I thought he was channelling the spirit of Bssiesmth) - and impregnating women, and THAT made him the true black man.

Makes you think.

Coontact Tale #216(June 16, 2004)

College cafe: Buying lunch for me and my chickie. Two very tall, very fat black woman have completely filled their trays with food. More food than I could ever eat in one sitting x 2.

The cashier rings them up and gives the first woman the total. It was over $20. They both start pitching a fit: "What you say? How dat be? Why so spensive?"

So the girl starts going through the receipt and we come to find out the onion rings (which they took the last of, among other things, BTW) were like $2.99. Oh crap, I thought...

"Two niney-nine fo onion rings? I doan think so! I ain't payin no $2.99 fo no onion rings! That's crazy! You must think I'm nuts, you think you gonna charge me two niney-nine for some damn onion rings!" There was full-on head bobbin action and hips a shakin' and her friend just standin there supporting her, "You tell her. Uh, huh. You tell 'er sister. Two niney-nine, crazy. She crazy."

I walked around them, made a nasty comment about the two women to the girl at the register and told her I'd come back and pay later.

They pull this all the fucking time. They load up at a buffet, chomping as they go, essentially eating their meal on the hoof. When they get to the end and have to pay, they protest the cost, dump the food and leave. The food can't be re-served.

Go to a deli sometime - they're lined up 'sampling' every fucking thing for free. After they're full, they leave, not buying a thing.

Coontact Tale #217(June 16, 2004)

Unfortunately there's a lot of truth posted in this topic. I worked with a black guy who was an aspiring rap "artist". He showed me his lyrics- it was completely illiterate. I partly blame MTV and shows like Cribs. The blacks are too stupid to realize that only .01% of their population can attain this kind of success. Why not profile successful black doctors, lawyers or businessmen? They're out there. Anyway, this so-called rap artist was proud of the fact he had fathered three kids with two different mothers. He bragged about how he would support them. He makes $9/hr. What kind of lives are these three kids going to have?

Coontact Tale #218(June 16, 2004)

Found this Gem in alt.tasteless awhile ago and kept it stored. After viewing your excellent site I thought you might like to share it. It's not my posting, sadly. I wish I'd been in that Cave to watch this!

I once was roped into helping out in one of those court ordered "Outward Bound" type adventure programs for 'troubled youths' (12-14 years old). So a friend of mine and I found ourselves waiting in the bright early morning sun at the entrance of one of Georgia's finest caves (i.e.muddy hellhole) for our youthful charges to arrive. The state owned van rolled in and out poured twelve outstanding examples of Ratlanta's finest inner city youths. By the time we had managed to walk the one hundred yards to the cave entrance, I had been call "God damn Honkie Mo'fo" no less than fifteen times. I looked at my friend and we both grinned at each other like sharks because we both knew this cave like the backs of our hands.

We spent the entire day dragging those sorry little sacks of shit through every horrible, nasty, excruciating painful part of the cave that we could think of. We had them so confused that we were able to lead them three times through a crawlway that was little more than the diameter of a stout human body, one hundred and fifty yards long, lined with razor sharp popcorn formations and filled eight inches deep with mud that was the consistency of applesauce. One of the little shit's caught on at this point and started crying. Being filled with the spirit of benevolence and warm hearted human kindness, I looked at my watch and decided that since sundown was thirty minutes away, we could afford to wait twenty minutes for them to rest and to allow nature to set itself up for one of it's more interesting wonders for these sweet little children, so beloved of god.

We started back and as we got the little darlings spaced out in the crawlway, my friend, leading the way, started going slower and slower as more and more bats started waking up. Soon thousands and thousands of bats were passing through this eighteen to twenty inch diameter crawlway and my ears were soothed by the chorus of terrified screams as the solid stream of bats whipped past. As I crawled along behind listening to the whimpers, curses and screams, I caught a distinctive smell of human feces and a cry of "Goddamn, Leroy done gone and shit hisself...". My job was done, and I felt that once again, I'd served humanity well.

Oh God how I loved this post!
Coontact Tale #219(July 16, 2004)

Yesterday , I'm in St.louis visiting an apartment complex that I co-own there.

After our meeting, a few of the st.louis guys and myself decide to head off for a golf game.

As we are leaving the Apartment complex, a nigger,who lives at the HUD complex,and who reluctantly is under my employ as a groundskeeper there,decides to show me his new travel trailer. He went on to tell us that now he can take some of his honeys on a camping trip. Turns out of course that the trailer is a complete shithole, and he tries to tell me its a fixer upper.

I then ask him that since its a travel trailer, what does he plan on towing it with. He says his ford PU truck, and points to it. Believe me, that truck couldn't pull taffy, let alone a 24' trailer. Rusted POS, and 1000 dollar rims(of course). But heres the best part, while showing me the inside of the trailer, he points to a 3 way light swith that he says is labeled "interior,exterior, and High Tech"..I ask"whats High Tech?" he says "I don't really know, But I will find out I bet you" we leave the trailer, I look at the switches..which are clearly labeled "exterior, Interior and HITCH" BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I never said anything to the sprog, but the guys who were with me just started cracking up. All I could think of was "is this Derek Lawrence, did he move to St. Lou?" This morning I was still laughing my ass off and shaking my head as I departed Niggerville, Missouri!!

thats some TNB!

Coontact Tale #220 (July 16, 2004)

GBWTF from FC is back! More about giving black women the finger!

Did you think that I had stopped Giving Black Women The Finger? WRONG.

I just had a little hiatus, is all. Here's why:

Apparently, one of the local Nation of Islam neighborhood papers - you know, twelve pages of barbeque recipes and rants about Whitey, sold by homeless people for a dollar - ran a story that "WHITE MEN HAVE BEEN DRIVING THROUGH THE PROJECTS AND INSULTING BLACK WOMEN." Needless to say, I am not a regular reader of the Negro Times (not its real name). But one of the weekly city papers picked up on the story and ran it as a blub on their local news page, and I saw read it over lunch a few weeks ago. I nearly spit out my sandwich when I did, and took an extra 45 minutes out of my day to track down a copy (when you don't want one, there's a hundred guys in you face trying to sell you a copy, but the one time you do want one, they're nowhere to be found).

Sure enough, on page two was a fairly vitriolic "news" story about how white males have been driving into the 'hood during the day and flipping off black women, and calling them "black bitches" and worse. I laughed with pure joy at reading this: finally, some press coverage of my activities that I didn't have to write myself! It was a wild thrill to see it in the paper. Of course, the "reporter" blew it out of proportion, claiming that there were "possibly dozens" of white men doing this, and quoting one alleged victim as saying that she had been flipped off, honked at, called a bitch and a ho, and physically threatened. I mean, please, I'm just one guy, and I only give them the finger. Fucking liars.

Anyway, I've had to cut back on my activities, with all the public attention; people are on the lookout for me, no doubt. I've done a couple runs, and they were only kind of satisfying, but once the heat dies down, I'll be back to daily doses of Giving Black Women The Finger.

And you can bet we'll be reading of your exploits as well! Maybe giving the chimalumps the finger is catching on?

Coontact Tale #221 (July 28, 2004)

GBWTF from FC is back! More about giving black women the finger!

I'm calling this the season finale because this is my favorite incident so far.

As you may recall, my activities have gotten some notoriety in the local African-American press:

.. so I'd been laying low for a while. The past two or three days, though, I've been back at my new hobby. Yesterday afternoon, I was taking my usual detour home from work, meandering through the projects, scanning the sidewalks for one of those wonderfully irascible black women.

Before long, I found a good candidate - probably mid-20s, relatively obese, with her hair in a cluster of ridiculous copper-colored braided loops, wearing a sequined black t-shirt ("Baby Phat" or something) and black sweatpants that did nothing to conceal the fat rippling beneath. As usual, I slowed down to match pace with her, and within moments, caught her attention. I gave her a little smile, a smarmy flare of my eyebrows, and then hoisted the Finger.

But something different happened this time. Instead of exploding into rage, or throwing trash at my car, she turned around with surprising speed and lumbered two doors up the the block, shouting, "Dinnell! Dinnell! It's that cracka from the newspaper!" And there, sitting in the shadows of a doorway, was a huge, thuggish black guy I hadn't noticed earlier, in a wifebeater and track pants.

Oh shit.

I should have floored it and gotten the hell out of there. But I suppose I was too transfixed by the unfolding events to leave; I was caught up in the moment, and I wanted to find out what happened next more than I wanted to save my own skin. Even so, I kept the car in gear and hovered my foot over the gas pedal.

"Dinnell" loomed out from the doorway, coming face to face with the hysterical nigress, who was pointing furiously at me and explaining the situation to him - no doubt mentioning the recent article in the newspaper, and how I'm the guy who's been menacing the women of the projects. Through her diatribe, he kept looking back and forth between her and me, with an increasingly annoyed look on his face. Finally, he took another step out onto the sidewalk, took a long look at me, and then turned back to her. In a loud voice meant for me to hear, and with comically exaggerated diction, he said to her:


The nigess replied with a sassy "Mmm-hmm," turned toward me and put her hands on her hips in defiance.

The black guy burst into a huge, beaming smile, and raised a kind of high-five salute to me, shouting "MY BRUTHA!" before collapsing into laughter. My victim wheeled on him, screamed and started flailing wildly at him, which just made him laugh harder.

And I laughed too, not just out of relief or comedy but in pure triumph - and you know, it felt really great, sharing this laugh with some black guy I'd never met and probably would never see again. It was almost a moment of racial harmony, there in the 'hood.

I laughed myself to tears pretty much all the way home, had dinner and slept as well as I can ever remember.

Stay tuned for Season 2 of Giving Black Women The Finger.

You can bet we all will!

Coontact Tale #222 (August 7, 2004)

There's a japanese grill just a few blocks from my apartment, with pretty decent food at cheap prices. Standard fare- bento boxes, sushi, tempura, etc.

My friend and I went in, noticed the place was nearly empty, took a seat somewhat near the front and ordered our food. (there were about 30 tables in the place, and only 5 other people- in the back corner)

So we're eating our food, and in walks this 300lb black woman with her two kids. Sweating like a racehorse.

She sits down *AT* our table and throws her purse/grocery bags right in the middle of our fucking food. She plops down in one of the chairs, and starts fanning herself. Before I can say a word she's shouting "Miss, cans eye get somes service ovah heah? My dogs are barkin and I'm thirsty somethang fierce!"

Remember, there are empty tables ALL around us. The whole place is empty except one table way in the corner.

Being the pussy that I am, I said "Excuse me, we're already at this table" instead of punching her in the fucking throat. I was with a date and didnt want to look like a huge asshole.

Immediately the woman turned to face me and shouted "What yo fuckin problem, you bitch ass crakah? Eyes gonna sit whereva I damn well please"

Meanwhile her two kids are running around the restaurant like animals and one manages to pull down a big tapestry hanging on the wall near the door. I am not fucking with you- the kid started running around the restaurant pulling the thing behind him, screaming some indian-esque "woo woo woo woo woo woo woo" noise. The mother did absolutely nothing and didn't even look in their direction.

Just as I was getting up the courage to tell her to get the fuck off our table, some short asian man who i guess was the owner or manager came out and politely asked her if she would leave.

Oh hell, that set the woman off like you wouldnt believe. "I sho as hell ain gonna leave eyes got good money and I want me some chicken and fortunate cookies, I'll fuckin sue yo ass if you dont give it to me!"

My date, of course, has a look of horror on her face, and I just dont want to deal with it anymore, so we got up and walked quickly out of the restaurant. The black woman was still shouting at the guy as we went out the door.

You know, I really don't want to be a racist. I hate the concept. But why is it that every single time I come into contact with a black person they behave like fucking animals?


No, this is not a troll, this is just me having a shitty evening. I dropped my date off on the way home because she was so upset. Somehow I don't think there is going to be a second date

You are not being racist by recognizing TNB (Typical Nigger Behavior) when you see it.

Coontact Tale #223 (August 8, 2004)

Why can't niggers behave in public?

Even at 2 or 3 years old, you can see the difference. My 3 year old kid may have the occasional outburst, but is generally recognizable as a human being. Went to the mall the other day, and nignogs appearing roughly the same age are behaving like gorillas at the zoo. Hitting each other, throwing shit, looking at a bookstore like it was a spaceship that just fell out of the sky...

Today, I'm driving to pick up my wife and I have the baby in the back seat. 400 pound pickaninny wench in, of course, a ghetto Escalade, is blocking the entire narrow street that I am on. BACKING UP THE WRONG WAY ON A ONE-WAY STREET, TRYING TO PARK IN A NO PARKING ZONE.

I'm a college graduate and I'd rather vote for a dead rabid dog than Bush, but I must say that niggers never cease to amaze me.

Coontact Tale #224 (August 9, 2004)

Story starts out in a complex of condominiums. It appears that the nigger living downstairs works the graveyard shift and sleeps in the daytime. The people living upstairs has children, and as anyone who lives upstairs will know, children and upstairs usually adds up to a lot of stomping around.

So, nigger downstairs can't sleep due to all the stomping around and noise. So what do you think she would do? Perhaps knock on the door upstairs and explain the situation? Perhaps leave a note on their door? Perhaps catch them on their way out and explain the situation to them?

So, what would a nigger do? Well, turn the stereo all the way up to full volume before going to work of course, thus pissing off the neighbors all around her unit. Nigger didn't understand why her surrounding three neighbors all called the police on her, nor why there would be note from the police on her door waiting for her when she got home from work. Must be racism, right?

Nigger earns its name every day.

Coontact Tale #225(August 9, 2004)

This is not a story about a specific incident of coontact. Instead, it is a description of my stressful "diverse" workplace and an illustration of the dangers that arise from nonwhites working in the healthcare industry.

I'm a pharmacist, practicing in a large HMO clinic in a major metropolitan area in the southeastern US. Our pharmacy director is a guilt-ridden white liberal who is committed to diversity, as he has illustrated in his staffing choices.

First, I will tell you about the pharmacy technicians who work on my shift. Their primary jobs are to assist in the process of dispensing prescriptions and to ring up the sales when the patients pick up their medications. One of the technicians is a fat young negress. Even when she's not wasting time by talking on her cell phone, singing hip-hop songs, or telling us how "dat club [she] wuz at last nite be off da chain!", or just standing around in a daze, she doesn't get very much work done. It is like watching someone working in slow motion. When she first started working with us, I thought she was just taking her time so that she wouldn't make mistakes. That's obviously not the case, because she routinely types the wrong directions on prescription labels, puts the wrong medications in bottles, and makes other errors that I have to correct.

Another of our technicians is a young black buck. His work is more accurate than that of the negress, but he shows up 30 minutes to an hour late on an almost daily basis, and occasionally doesn't even come in at all. Of course, he never calls to let us know he's going to be late or will not be coming in. He just shows up whenever he feels like it, I guess.

Also a part of our technician staff is a hispanic woman. Her job performance is even worse than that of the negress. Other than the fact that she speaks Spanish and can communicate with our unfortunately ever-increasing wetback clientele, she essentially just takes up space in the pharmacy.

Speaking of taking up space, that brings me to the last technician on my shift, a whigger female. You know the kind: overweight, bleached blonde hair, always talking about how "fine" that black guy who just walked up to the counter is. She's the dumbest technician on my shift, which I'm sure does not surprise anyone who reads your page. I could put a lab coat on my dog and he could probably do her job as well as she does.

Next up is our intern who recently graduated from pharmacy school. He's a clean-cut, well-spoken, "light skinded" young black man. He is also as dumb as a box of rocks. I fear for the safety of his patients if this product of Affirmative Action ever becomes a fully licensed pharmacist. That might not happen, though. He failed the Board exam last week. Hopefully, he'll keep failing it every time he takes it until he decides to give up.

If our intern does become licensed, I predict that he will be exactly like the other pharmacist on my shift, a negress who I'm sure is also a product of Affirmative Action. She has been responsible for countless medication errors since I have been working with her--either errors that she made herself or mistakes made by our moronic technicians that she did not catch when checking over their work before releasing the prescriptions to patients. One of her mistakes (wrong directions on a label) almost resulted in the death of an infant last year. She has been sued twice, that I know of, and has been threatened with lawsuits on several other occasions. I honestly don't understand how she still has a license to practice pharmacy. Not surprisingly, we have several regular patients who request that she not be involved in filling their prescriptions when they drop them off at the window, which just increases my workload and stress level. I don't blame them, though. Her incompetence is a danger to our patients.

I have spoken to the pharmacy director several times about my coworkers, but he continues to ignore the situation. Perhaps he fears being hit with discrimination lawsuits if he starts firing these folks. Indeed, I'm sure the negress pharmacist would play the race card if she were fired. A year ago when the director came to the pharmacy to speak to her about a complaint filed against her by a customer she had been rude to, her response was, "She just prejist 'gainst me cuz I'm black!" The director's response, believe it or not, was, "Well, that might be the case." I'm sure he'd have no problem getting rid of me if I did my job as poorly as she did, though.

Please understand, I'm not saying that I'm perfect. No human being is, of course. But I've been a pharmacist for over a decade, and have had similar problems with virtually every nonwhite coworker I have ever had. With the exception of the whigger I currently work with and a former employee who was a drug addict (also a whigger), the white men and women I have worked with have been solid employees. I would advise all whites to turn around and leave the pharmacy (or any other other medical facility, for that matter) if they see an abundance of nonwhites behind the counter. It just isn't worth the risk.

Thank you for allowing me to vent my frustrations, and for providing so much entertaining reading on "Coontact Tales."

Coontact Tale #226(August 14, 2004)

Here's a contribution for your Pages of Coontact. I swear it's true, and you may post this whereever you like.

Keep up the good work!

Thank you and I will. It's always nice to know Coontact Tales has avid readers! Let me take this opportunity to thank you for your contribution as well. Know as well you will be partly responsible for thousands of humans spitting their morning coffee, or evening beer, all over their monitors and keyboards when reading Coontact Tales.

Ever ask yourself why so many humans find Coontact Tales so funny? It's because of the truth we find in so many of these tales. When we notice this simple truth we are not stereotyping the Negro but simply identifying him for what he is.

It's TNB or "Typical Nigger Behavior".


Many years ago, when I lived in the city, I worked as a furniture salesman in a shop that specialized in bedrooms. One section of our shop was devoted to waterbeds, and naturally, when the nigga playas would come in with their sows, they'd want a waterbed.

And why not? They had all the features that the shitskin would like:

* They were cheap. You basically had a plastic bag and a pine platform. It's not quite a handmade wrought iron bedstead with a hand-tied, coil-spring mattress, is it?

* They were gaudy -- hey, the nigs really liked the ones with mirrored headboards and shiny vinyl rails around the edge! Probably reminded them of the car they once lived in down in the 'hood.

* Waterbeds had a reputation for sex. So they reminded the nigs of the few things that they have, and that they believe the White man doesn't: a big dick and a feral nature that encourages breeding little niglets that grow up into nigger bucks and mammy sows, who then breed again, and so extends the great Chain of Nigger Life. (Along with AIDS, drug abuse, thievery, and other niggardly attributes.)

So one Saturday in the autumn, when we salesmen are all working flat-out trying to wait on customers who've bought new houses or moved into new apartments and who need furniture, in walks the Happy Nigger Family. There's mama, fat and shiny, with her hair straightened and wound into a bouffant that stood three feet off her niggy-noggin, and wearing a bright orange top and lycra pants so tight you can see the rolls of fat on her thighs jiggle as she walks. And there's daddy, trousers so loose it looks like he's shit in 'em, wearing an LA Lakers niggerball jersey, in a town where every White person *HATES* the Lakers. And of course, there's a nigglet in tow -- just one! Isn't that amazing? -- and he's about 4 years old, and he's filthy as a maggot.

Well, of course they make a beeline for the waterbeds. And of course the nigglet starts running around the store, looking for expensive lamps, tables, and so on, to smash.

The nigglet runs to the sofabeds. He's wearing grubby little Air Jordans that probably cost $100 a pair (for a four-year-old!) and that look like he's been playing in dogshit. So of course he jumps onto the sofabeds and starts *walking across them*, leaving great shitty tracks behind him.

Then, like the leaping little ape that he is, he jumps off the back of a sofabed, and lands on a coffee table that promptly tips over. But he's already leapt off it, and now he's on another bed, jumping up and down on the mattress and box spring like a coon version of Jack-in-the-Box.

Of course mammy sow is doing nothing about this. So all the salespeople break off the work we're doing with our good customers, the White ones, to try to round up the nigglet. Mammy nig, well, somehow she seems to think that this stuff in the store, which amounts to hundreds of thousands of dollars, is just for her little chimp to jump on and bust up. He probably behaves like this at home, as she lets him, so why not here?

That's when the nigglet spies the waterbeds. Like a little bull that paws the ground before he charges, he wiggles his monkey ass, and then tears across the showroom at full speed. He flings himself through the air, and bellyflops onto the biggest California king waterbed in the showroom.

Let me tell you about this bed: it's the bed we'd show people when we don't want them to buy a cheap bed. It's got no wave reduction baffles inside the water mattress, and we kept it a little bit under-full. When we'd show it to a customer, we'd invite them to sit or lie on it, and they'd realize how disconcerting it would be to have a big bed that has no wave reduction. If your partner rolls over on this kind of water mattress, the two of you would rise and fall with the waves, and the mattress will gurgle underneath you, until it finally settles down and stops moving. If you want a good night's sleep, we'd say, you'd do better to spend the extra money and buy a mattress that has anti-wave baffles within it. This display mattress would always convince them to step up.

That's the mattress the maggot sprog landed on.

Now, with all his speed and with this great leap behind him, the little jigaboo landed pretty hard, hard enough that a huge wave formed inside the mattress. The wave bulged the bed high in the middle, and then raced across to the far end of the big bed, where it hit the rails and came back.

When the wave came back, it hadn't lost any momentum. It flung the little nigger sprog into the air and backwards, throwing him up at least two or three feet, sending him flying off the bed, and landing him on the floor, his little nigger ass and back and noggin taking the blow.

Of course he wasn't hurt, because it's pretty hard to hurt a nigger, especially in the head. But the young animule started to howl like the injured beast he was. Then the fat mama sow began to scream, and the daddy buck began shouting, "Wazza muffugga kine thing dat is?", along with all sorts of other gutteral, niggerbabble sounds.

Those of us who worked there all ran into the salesmen's lounge, off the sales floor, so we could laugh. I remember one guy saying that we've all got to calm down and go back out to the sales floor, or else he was going to piss himself laughing. He wasn't the only one who came close!

Meanwhile, the fat mama bounded across the showroom, and made the whole floor shake as she did. She scooped up the nigglet and said, "Dat's whut happen, I tole you not to do dat sheeeit!". The sprogeen just bawled and bawled. So daddy buck nig said, "Dazzit, weez goin' ta home," and they left.

Later, daddy buck came in by himself, and looked at a waterbed. I'll give him "credic" (which is how he pronounced the word), he really did want to buy one, he wasn't just wasting our time (this time). It's too bad his wife (or ho, or whatever she is -- but Christ, who would want a wife who looked like *that*?) wouldn't look after his offspring better, because he wasn't such a bad nig, as nigs go.

But when we found out where he was living, we got him out of there fast, because we knew his apartment building never allowed "water furniture" in the lease. It happened before that we had delivered a waterbed to this place, and the White landlord got there just after our delivery guys had set the bed up. The landlord had a copy of the lease, and he complained that the last time a nigger family in this building had a waterbed, they'd popped the mattress and destroyed two apartments downstairs, including ceilings and floors. So our guys had to disassemble the bed, and we had to refund the customer's money.

(It's really hard to pop a waterbed mattress. You've got to have a seriously obese sow jump on it, or you have to take your machete to bed. Either's possible with niggers, of course, so I don't doubt this landlord's word for a second. It must be hard to own a building with niggers in it, you have to deal with more shit than a stable hand.)

So in the end, therefore, we didn't sell buck nig nuthin'. But we did have a hell of a good laugh at his little turdskin 'tard.

Coontact Tale #227(August 28, 2004)

Okay, I'm a racist.

But talk about classic MAYPOLE BAYKIN behavior...

I'm at a store trying on some clothes. The fitting rooms are practically empty. I step out to look in the three-way mirror in the hall...when I turn around and come back, a black teenage girl has taken my room. My clothes and my purse are inside...the door is locked. Her mother is standing nearby. I knock and say 'Excuse me, but this was my dressing room'. She goes 'Oh.' And keeps dressing.

I knock again and say 'I'm sorry, but my purse is in there; open the door please'. The door opens a crack, she shoves my purse out in her fist, then slams the door shut and locks it again. Her mother stares.

So I stood there and waited for her to come out. She took twenty minutes.

Coontact Tale #228(August 29, 2004)

Another funny black outburst occured in front of a grocery store in West Hollywood, California. It was the Ralph's store on Sunset across from the dry cleaners.

For those of you who don't know, West Hollywood is a faggot community complete with faggot police, faggot council members, and plenty of public bathrooms for the faggots to socialize in. If you work up in Burbank, it's the only way to get to Beverly Hills. You have to drive through West Hollywood and they have the only stores open on the way home.

One time, I stopped at a grocery store to pick up some dinner and drinks when I saw three slightly overweight middle aged faggots hiding behind sunglasses (at night) and perfectly trimmed mustaches. The typical faggot look. Tight jeans, perfect little haircuts, leather jacket.

But these guys were passing out flyers by the door of the store. I instantly knew what it was: NAMBLA. For those of you who don't know - and consider yourself blessed for not knowing - NAMBLA stands for North American Man Boy Love Association. It's a group of faggot pedophiles who are actually pushing to reform the age of consent laws and promote 'relationships' between men and boys. No shit, I'm serious. They are organized and even have meetings at the public library. Some of them are lawyers and sued for this 'right'. They are a legally recognized group.

Anyway, they pass out flyers from time to time to recruit new members or promote their views. They fill them up with psychological mumbo jumbo saying that such relationships don't cause damage and are really healthy and that they are born that way and therefore, should be accepted. They even have drawings of grown men holding hands with little boys and 'mentoring' them by helping them with their homework and stuff. The faggots are sympathetic to them because the majority of faggots are molesters anyway and they can't exactly argue with the fallcious argument that pedophiles are 'born that way' as they have been using that line for years.

Most people used to NAMBLA being around just walk by and not accept their literature. In West Hollywood, you can't take a stand against the faggots becuase there are just too many of them and the police are faggots too. There is usually a police car parked in the lot watching them to keep the peace anyway. Sometimes, I like to hang back and watch to see people's reactions. The tourists are funny as they always take the flyers and are shocked when they read it.

I was about 50 feet back and in front of me was a typical black woman with a big ass and gold rimmed sunglasses (again, it's nighttime) strutting along with her ghetto slippers and nappy hair. She was probably getting some ham hocks or neck bones or something. You know the type; walking slow and scraping her dirty slippers with each movement. 280 pounds of pure, worthless, consuming space.

One of the NAMBLA faggots handed her a flyer and she stopped to read it. This one was easy to read for her, it had drawings.

All three of the faggots backed up a bit and eyed each other as if they knew what would be coming.

She began to speak and then paused, reading it again to make sure.


One of the faggots tried to calm her down and explain, "Well maam, we feel that our love is natural and we would like equal rights...."


She then, stopped ranting and read more of the flyer. As she did, she began bobbing up and down and shaking her ass. "Yeah, I see it want to buttfuck little boys!"

She turned to others who were coming into the store, "HEY, THESE MUTHAFUCKAS WANT TO BUTTFUCK LITTLE BOYS! HAHAHAHA!"

Just then, two more blacks came walking up and she stopped them, handed them the flyer and said, "Look at dis sheet, these white muthafuckas want to buttfuck little boys!"

The other blacks read the flyers and joined in. It looked like a bongo party by a voodoo fire in Zimbabwe. The were jumping up and down, laughing and yelling, and by now, the disruption was blocking the door. The three faggots were backed up against the newspaper racks and the crowd of blacks was growing. They seemed to gravitate to each other, like in a riot.

It was hilarious to me to see such a sight in the middle of West Hollywood and not one faggot stood up against them. Not the NAMBLA members and not the many faggots who were gathered in the parking lot.

"Woooo-eeee......hahahaha! Look at these muthafuckas! Sheet~! Buttfuckin' little boys! Woooo-eeeeee!" They were pointing and shouting, getting louder and louder until eventualy the manager of the store came out with a couple bag boys.

"Settle down out here, I'm going to have to ask you people to leave!"


And this erupted yet another round of laughter and black dancing.

The police car watching must have radioed ahead for back up because four cop cars pulled up at once. They got out and stepped between the black mob and the NAMBLA faggots.


The police separated everyone and calmed them down and made the onlookers, including me, go into the store or move along.

By the time I got out of the store, everyone was gone, including the NAMBLA faggots. I doubt they'll come back there anymore or pass any more flyers out to ghetto mamas.

Tom Shelly

Coontact Tale #229(August 29, 2004)

Normally I don't do this with Coontact Tales but I couldn't help myself.

Bumbling gold-toothed bandit convicted of robbing bank branch

Posted February 5 2003, 11:57 AM EST

A federal jury in Miami has convicted a bumbling bandit who almost shot himself, then ran into a delivery truck and knocked out his two front teeth -- both gold -- while fleeing from a North Miami Beach bank robbery with a fistful of dollars.

Charles Edward Jones faces life imprisonment for the Sept. 30th robbery of the Wachovia Bank branch. He was convicted on Tuesday.

Here’s what the FBI said happened that led to the arrest:

Jones entered the Wachovia bank and robbed one its tellers at gunpoint, taking approximately $16,000 in cash.

On his way out of the bank, Jones was returning the gun to his waistband when it discharged in his trousers. Surprisngly, he was not hurt.

As Jones ran from the bank, however, he was struck by a delivery truck that was delivering school lunches to a school in the area.

Still, Jones managed to stumble to a waiting car and escape. Left behind, however, were two gold teeth, his gun and his hat.

The FBI used DNA recovered from the teeth to match it with suspect Jones' DNA, thus proving he had been in the bank. Jones was arrested several days after the robbery.

When Jones was taken into custody, agents said they found a sock full of money shoved down his pants. The serial numbers matched bills taken from the bank.


Coontact Tale #230(August 29, 2004)

I'm in a restaurant in Chinatown. Six fat black women...wait! six black women would suffice, we know they're fat...orge in and sit down ready to order.

BW#1: "Oz has schreep fry riiice."

BW#2: Ditto.

BW#3: Ditto.

BW#4: Ditto.

BW#5: Ditto.

BW#6: (Obviously the gourmet among them) "Sheeeet. Schreep fry riiiice, schreeep fry riiiice. Is dat all yo gerls can orter? Oz has POLK (pork) fry friiiice."

Coontact Tale #231(September 5, 2004)

One day I was driving along the road,and happen to notice a couple of the fat lips,staranded with a flat tire,and of course,no spare.

They were standing around,scratching their heads,not knowing what to do.

I just though what a couple of dumbasses,probably waiting for some liberal white boy to come along and save their sorry asses.

I was a little bored so I decided to call 911,and tell them about these niggers on the side of the road,and I wasn't sure,but thought I may have seen a GUN!!!

I think they may be dangerous,and up to no good,it was a predominately white area.

There was a nice big parking lot about a block away,and offered a great vantage point.

It was almost instant,by the time I got off the phone 6 squad cars showed up with guns drawn,and nigga boys was forced to "assume the position"

I left shortly thereafter,but I still chuckle whenever I think about it. Knowing niggers I am sure one or boff of them had an outstanding warrant anyway

I always make it a point to call in TNB whenever I suspect it has an element of illegality. For example, living outside Kansas City I often observe niggers purchasing a single forty ouncer for the drive home. So, in the interest of the general white public, I make it a point to tail the nigger, observe him drink and drive and all the police. Never pass an opportunity to be instrumental in caging a negro; the life you save may be your own.

Coontact Tale #232(September 5, 2004)

Why Do Black Women Intentionally Try To Get In White People's Way?

You know what I'm talking about.

Today, I'm going through the grocery store, and come upon two fat black women in the cereal aisle. They're just standing there, talking about God knows what.

I try to be patient, and give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they're just finishing up a conversation, and will move along real soon.

No dice.

30 seconds passes, and still no movement... except for their jowels gyrating as they speak.

Finally, I say "excuse me." Both of them turn and look at me like I just stole their last Moon Pie, and then go back to talking.

I just gave up and went to the next aisle.


Nothing personal, it's just niggers.

Then I ran across these comments.

"The whole point of having a shopping cart is to ram the fat bitches out of the way."

Followed by this.

"Works for me, but then I am not afraid of Aunt Jemima."

At which the original poster came back with this observation.

"Their gross tonnage far exceeded the ramming capacity of my metal-wire shopping cart."

Then someone made this special observation that we've all seen.

"What I want to know is how they always know how to stop to chit-chat at traffic choke-points so that the maximum number of other people are guaranteed to be inconvenienced.


Coontact Tale #233(September 6, 2004)

My job involves lots of coontact.They all think I am a tame (read- guilt ridden)white guy because I smile constantly at whatever they do. They are too STUPID to realize I'm not trying to be friendly and that I AM LAUGHING AT THEM. Like last night. I walk out the front door of the business to see a mixed group of six (6) males and females as they discover a cockroach crawling up the door. You would think I was watching a troop of baboons who discovered food. They hooted and crowded around and watched the cockroach. The way they acted, I thought there would be a fight to see who would eat it. Why can't they all just go back to Afreeka?

About a month ago, I finally figured out why they wear their hats at odd angles. Have you ever seen a circus chimp dress? The chimp puts the hat on the same way.

I used this realization to good use when I was at the courthouse the other day. (Not for me.I'm only the witness.) I was dressed in suit and tie like a white guy does to go to court and this baboon dressed in standard baboon gear came up and asked if I was an attorney, then, without waiting for a reply, launched into his story.I listened a few seconds, then interrupted him. I explained I was not an attorney but I thought the "esteemed firm of Fossey and Goodall had the most experience with those with problems like his" and "no, I did not have the phone number, but remember to look up Fossey and Goodall." Then I left the courthouse. It would have been funny when the baboon did ask around for that firm. I bet he chimped out for an hour. Hee hee hee.

Coontact Tale #234 (September 15, 2004)

This is a personal account of my experience today at my doctor's office. It would probably need to be added to the "Tales of Coontact" but I wanted to share it here first.

My Doctor's office is usually very quiet, they are prompt and efficient with their care and the staff knows you by name. Usually people just sit quietly looking at magazines...

But today, I knew there was going to be trouble when I sat down. At the front chairs was this young looking pregnant nigress who appeared to be in discomfort. Today the doctors were running behind because they had more patients than usual. So the nurses were just calling us in to take our vital signs and weight then sending us back out to wait for the doctor. The pregnant niggy was being chapperoned by her big momma, who, by the time I got back to out to my chair was howling into the phone. Apparently the Big momma figured that they were letting us in before her daughter and that she was being mistreated because she is black. It was hard to ignore her loud obnoxious voice, so I pretended to read my magazine while I caught up with the situation.

The story goes as follow...her daughter (16 years old) is 8 months pregnant and was having pain. She had an appointment today so instead of driving her to the ER(like a normal person would) she brings her into the office. Once at the office she got upset because they have been there "10 MINUTES!!!!!" and the doctor has not seen her yet. So what does the Big Momma do?? Yep, you guessed it, big dumb momma calls 911 from her tax-payer-payed cell phone and demands they come to get her daughter to the hospital (which, by the way, is only two blocks away). Those nice rescue people from 911 have, by law, to report to all calls, so in two minutes they arrive to the office looking for Big momma and her kid. By that time they are already in with the Doctor and the 911 team has to wait until the doctor clears the daughter so they can do their job. It was sad looking at the rescue team just sitting around waiting for them, while they could be out there taking care of real emergecies. Bottom line, as I was being checked by the doctor, the nurse walks in and tells the doctor "her mom told EMS(emergency medical services) that she called because she was afraid the girl would give birth in the car on the way to the hospital". The Doctor rolled his eyes and I asked the nurse "why didn't she just take her to the er instead of bringing her here?". The nurse just shruged and I bet she was just glad to get rid of them.

Maybe if Big Momma had been more interested in what her 16 year old daughter was doing 8 months ago, my day would not have been ruined! Great, just great, another mouth to feed with my tax money. Jeez, slavery is still alive! I am the slave of this bunch of lazy ass nigers, which I support with my tax money!

Most niggabitches are grandmothers by 22.

Coontact Tale #235 (September 22, 2004)

I was at the grocery store a couple of days ago and was standing in line behind two fat negresses. They were talking to each other about their favorite nail salons. Negresses love those fancy fingernails, you know! I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing out loud at this exchange:

Negress #1: "I gets mah nails done at dat place next to da Church's Chicken."

Negress #2: "Dey awright, but I likes ta gets mah nails did up in dat place 'cross from da KFC."

I immediately began to wonder if all negroes use fried chicken restaurants as landmarks when giving directions. I suppose I could do some research on this, but then again I'm too busy earning a living so that those two jigs can spend my tax dollars on their nails. Besides, I prefer to keep my coontact to an absolute minimum if at all possible.

Coontact Tale #236 (September 24, 2004)

I'm a 21 year old married to a great wife, and father of a beautiful little girl, A proud member of the U.S. Army Reserve, (I was active for 2 years out of high school then decided to get my degree) and a student at the local state college. I'm in my freshman speech class a week ago, and we had been assigned to write a speech about any topic and then to deliver it in front of the class. The class would then proceed to critique the speech for persuasiveness, accuracy, etc. This snotty nigger girl proceeds to give a speech about how all blacks deserve reparations, guaranteed hiring at jobs, and a two year cessation of all income taxes to "build up the impoverished black economy that has been downtrodden by the white dominated business world". Excuse me? You know I was the first person with my hand up to comment. These stupid jungle bunnies actually think that I OWE them my goddamned money so they can piss it away on booze and drugs? I EARNED that cash with blood sweat and tears, (I've been deployed to both afganistan and Iraq), and I honestly don't see why I should pay them a damn cent! But, I digress...Anyways, I proceeded to inform this ignorant coon that I didn't owe her jack shit, and here was why, "Your own people sold you into slavery in the first place, so that wasn't the white man's fault. You have never been enslaved a day in your life, and neither has any other living black person in our nation, so how do we OWE you anything? Thirdly, all you blacks think that you're entitled to anything you want, and don't want to actually work for anything. If you actually worked for your living like the rest of us, you would understand why we don't want to give you our money. Lastly, I'm sick and god-damned tired of you people wanting special privileges. You have a black student union to promote your blackness or whatever the hell you do there, but you know if I petitioned for a white student union all I would hear was 'racist' this and 'honkey' that. Dammit, if you think you're so mistreated here, then go back to africa and die of AIDS for all I care." I then sat down in the midst of a dumbfounded class. I got a few looks from some bleeding heart liberal whites who thought I was being a bit harsh, several looks of respect from other men in the class, and all the blacks in the room stood up and grouped themselves together and started hurling insults at me. Now, you notice, they didn't start hurling insults or abuse at me until they had the pack together. They truly are monkeys. At this point the professor tries to regain control of the class, but it is hopeless. He even made a comment to me about "stirring up trouble" before calling campus security. By this time the she-coon has called her boyfriend on her cell phone and I am then informed that the "crips" are going to find me and "kill my honky ass and my bitch wife" (she must have seen my wedding ring, guess they're not blind....) I am past the point of self control at this point, remember, I've just gotten back from the sandbox not six months ago, and I've killed rag heads for less provocation. I shout, "Listen you fucking nigger, you tell your boyfriend to bring all his little friends and I'll kill them ALL. I just got back from Iraq where I sent lots of your sand nigger cousins to hell and I'll be glad to send him there too!" (I don't have to mention that as a service member I have several automatic weapons.) At this point campus security arrives and escorts the still whooping and hollering nigger pack out of the building, and then escorts me to the dean's office. I ended up transferring to another class because the dean didn't want any more trouble, and currently am finishing my semester. Can you believe the attitude of these monkeys? Saying shit like that and expecting all the whiteys to just bend over...stupid niggers...

An excellent Coontact Tale!

I was talking to my good friend Tyrone N. Butts the other evening over at the New Nations News forum, where Tyrone bez kind of ah Head Nigga In Charge knowz whut I bez sayin? Tyrone Be At New Nation News I made the observation that we've visited a number of non-racist forums in the past and as soon as someone came in with the courage to speak their mind the facade of political correctness collapsed.

You can be in a room full of nigger-stink, reeking of politically correct thought control, but but if you have the courage to speak up you will always find others who will agree. Even if they didn't have the courage to speak up you could see it in their eyes. It's called admiration. Admiration of the courage it took for you to say what they were speaking.

Let me say job well done, thank you for your contribution to Coontact Tales and thank you for the service to our country.

I wish I could have been there to watch it because I just love to watch the niggabitches do the chicken head bob.

Hundreds of thousands of white men have given their lives over the past 230 years so you could say just what you said. Don't let the thought police rob you of that right paid for in blood.

Coontact Tale #237 (September 28, 2004)

Unusual TNB today

Pulling into parking garage

Black guy driving in car ahead

he stops waiting for some woman to walk to her car, get in her car and pull out

-i fuckin hate that in general but whites are guilty of this as much as blacks-

the woman opens car door, gets out some papers and leaves.

the black guy still sits there blocking traffic by now 15 cars are waiting and people start to honk i am behind him and i tap the horn he actually got out the car and comes to me -i already have my ruger sp101 pulled and ready to kill him- a legal right in my state that declares your car an extension of your property the black guy says something like "yous gots a problem-mumble-mumble" i say- "look, the girl you are waiting for has already left. there is no one in the car. you need to keep going up the ramp" I kept pointing to the car and telling him to look himself self. after about 45 seconds he slowly n-walks over to car. looks at it from 5 different angles and then does a 360 syrveyance of the parking lot he then slowly saunts over to his car and slowly drive about 10 car spots and pulls in.

strange strange strange

Coontact Tale #238 (September 28, 2004)

I made a local call to a federal gov't agency office in Seattle this morning. I was looking for the agency focal point in South Dakota.

An IQ-75_DAFN-sounding (DAFN stands for Dumb Ass Fucking Nigger) voice answered and I inquired, "Do you have the number for your agency main office in South Dakota?"

And the ebonic DAFNvoice responded, "Uh, what *state* in South Dakota do you want...?"

And NOW makemyday has developed the miraculous ability to determine skin color over the phone. Will wonders never cease.

Coontact Tale #239 (October 1, 2004)

Why me?...why can't I just have lunch in peace? Well, let me begin by saying that perhaps I brought this upon myself, let me clarify.... I went into Burger King...why you ask? well, my hormones made me do it and it was the closest thing to my doctors office, also, I was an hour away from home. But enough excuses. Here is my report...

So, I go into BK and my first encounter was an indian (from India, not native american) girl that could barely understand my perfectly good english, for some reason she had problems understanding " whopper meal, no pickles, no onions". Thankfully the kitchen staff was white and that made me feel a lot better. So after repeating my order 3 times, she finally got it right (funny how our jobs are being outsourced to india of all places). I get my order, sit in the most remote corner booth away from everybody so I can have some quiet time for myself.

As I am almost through my lunch I hear someone speaking, babbling I should say, close to me, but me being alone and no friends living nearby, I ignored the babble and kept eating until I noticed someone sitting on the booth right in front of mine. This unkempt nigress was trying to talk ebonics to me.!

Now everyone saw my poor attempt at translating the message left on Tyrone's cellular phone. So I just looked up smiled and nodded, then continued to eat my lunch. Apparently she was trying to have a nice, polite conversation with me but I had no clue what she was saying as she got up to refill her drink, I gather my stuff, gulped down the rest of my lunch and headed for the door. Not without noticing a tacky jean jacket with rhinestones, still on the hanger, but in a BK bag (probably stolen goods).

Why can't I have just one measly week without any TNB experiences?

Heres the description written by '' recently in AFN of a similar ebonics TNB encounter.

"I saw a blue-gummed niggeress on CNN reporting on the 'Cane. A gust of wind caught her 8-Ply Ubangi type lips and they looked like a cows cunt with hemorrhoids farting. Suffice to say whatever the gibbering gibbon was trying to say was so incomprehensible they had to cut away to a Human broadcaster."

Coontact Tale #240 (October 1, 2004)

I think this story points out how different races rank on the "civilized" scale........

My husband grew up in a small town in the south and most families there reguardless of race were poor. The jr. high school he went to was self segregated,the niggers stayed with the niggers and the whites with the whites. One day at lunch he accidentally dropped a nickel and it rolled over to the niglet table. One niglet picked up the nickel and another one tried to take it from him(even though they knew it my husband's,they had no intention of giving it back). This ended up in a group of 10 niglets rolling on the ground fighting each other for this one nickel. As you can imagine,my husband was amazed at the TNB. The next day,he decided to try it again with a dime. He got the same reaction. On the third day,he decided to lower the stakes a bit and try it with a penny, sure enough,a bongo battle ensued again. By this time the other white boys found it to be an interesting sport and followed suit. After a week of niglet tables battling practically to the death,the school put a stop to it and sent home a letter to all students ordering that all change be kept in a wallet or pocket.

Coontact Tale #241 (October 8, 2004)

Funny story about rapper Master P and Merrill Lynch

An acquaintance of mine who works there (at the office in question) told me this yesterday. According to this guy, Merrill Lynch's Metairie (New Orleans) office recruited a negro broker to help Merrill gather assets and open accounts with local rappers and athletes around 1999. Dude gets Master P to open an account with a couple million, and the negro broker puts it into a bunch of Merrill-recommended high tech stocks. As you can surmise, Merrill was peddling pure crap and Master P's account value plummeted.

A few years later, about 10 of Master P's thug niggas show up at Merrill's office armed with loaded firearms - as this guy said, they obviously weren't there to open an IRA account.

As it turns out, no shots were fired, but this guy said that every whitebread Merrill broker shit their drawers when they saw these thugs walk in.

The negro broker is no longer there and gathering assets from rappers is no longer on the branch manager's priority list.

Coontact Tale #242 (October 9, 2004)

I saw a big fat black bitch get a bag of fritos in the 7-11 today.

She waddled over to the hot food area, opened up the bag, and proceeded to pump 20 pumps of hot liquid nacho cheese directly into it.

Then I waited in line behind her as she stuffed her fat face with this crap.

When she got to the cashier, he started to charge her for the cheese...And she got all pissed off and started arguing that the cheese should be free.

She said "Then I's not payin!" and slammed the bag on the counter and stomped out.

Just so you know you are not alone here are some comments from other writers.

Black people getting served in over the counter food establishments!

Never fails, what the fuck is it with these people? You may be interested to know that I'm British and exactly the same shit happens here. Whether it's in McDonalds, KFC or some street vendor selling burgers and hotdogs, they always have to argue with whoever is serving them.

And this colorful comment:

I used to work with forefront, a company that sold bullshit BECOME AN MCSE or CCNE programs.

Once a week I would get calls from spooks wanting to learn "crisco" or work on the "pentenium chips".

The worst part was having to suggest the Learn Win98 starter kit. The coons would start complaining. "Oh I knows all dat sheeeit. I wans to makes some bling so I can gets new rims and shit fo my pontiac."

Fucking idiots didn't even have computers.

Coontact Tale #243 (October 15, 2004)

I was at Krogers today with my mom. In line, this nigger had her child ( about 2 years old ) in her cart and had a baby with one of those car seats in the front part of the cart. She bumps into the cart, the baby falls backwards upside down! on the other child in the cart. She starts screaming and crying LOUD people gasp and run over. Another nigger comes over and gets the baby in the car seat off the screaming child ( the mother is too busy paying for her grocerys to care ) The baby is put back on the top of the cart. The nigger mother picks up the kid in the cart while it is screaming and crying and leaves.

Coontact Tale #244 (October 15, 2004)

I've got one:

My father used to work in St. Paul, down by the Mississippi River. One afternoon, on his way home, he was caught first in line at a red traffic light.

Out of nowhere, a zipped up buck jig approached his 1987 Ford F-150 passenger door and opened it. (My dad never locks his doors even now!)

Before the nigger's greasey ass hit the seat, my dad looked him in the eye and said "Boy, you don't want to come in here" - as he reached under the driver's seat to produce a tire wrench.

The neegro exited the vehicle and fled the scene. He was polite enough to at least close the door as he was leaving.

Have a nice day, neegro!

Another pa story:

One day while taking a piss break at school, two nigger bucks walk in to the bathroom where my dad was. They started arguing loudly between them (the two chimps).

Eventually, one of the niggers said "Man, lets ask this guy"

Speaking now to my father, one of the chimps says "Man, which one of us you think is blacker?"

My dad without missing a beat replied "Who gives a shit, you both look like a couple of niggers to me."

Coontact Tale #245 (October 15, 2004)

Last Christmas, I took my mother shopping at a Marshall's store. The area isn't too bad. It was about two hours until closing time, so we took our time and shopped. As time went by, more and more neegroes came in to the store. More and more, the place became loud and buzzing with activity. I was starting to get irritated, but my mom was enjoying herself, so I held my tongue. Pretty soon, my mom came to me and said "Let's go, I feel sick to my stomach".

So we checked out and left. I asked her if she was okay, and she said "As soon as we left the store, I felt fine".

It wasn't exclusively the niggers that made her feel sick, it was the white bitches who had neegro bucks hanging off of them.

I counted, there was eight - 8! - bi-racial couples in the store and countless other nigger loud mouths in the store.

This may sound like no big deal, but ya gotta know my mom. She may THINK niggers eat dog ass, but she NEVER says anything about it. Apparently enough was enough for her that night.

White women that have sex with niggers fuck shit.

Coontact Tale #246 (October 15, 2004)

Yet another example of how stupid a nigger can be:

My dad used to drive fuel transport trucks to service stations and refill their tanks. Back then, this was done in the wee hours of the morning when there wasn't any traffic - or 24 hour gas stations for that matter.

One night, in a very DARK neighborhood, my father was waiting for the bulk tanks to fill with product, and because of procedure, he had to stay near the scene and respond in case of a spill. Around the corner of the gas station, a nigger comes up to my dad with a cigarette hanging off his lower lip. (or was it a porterhouse steak?) He says to my dad "Hey man, you gotta light?"

All my dad could say is "You are one stupid nigger!" and went on explaining the possible result of striking a match less than 6 feet from a gasoline tanker pumping product into the underground tanks.

My dad threw a book of matches at the nigger and told him to get the fuck off the property.

I suspect that due to the fact that the nigger was alone at the time, he didn't talk back or challenge my dad. Because of that, the neegro lived that night.

Coontact Tale #247(October 15, 2004)

Here is a coontact tale that happened recently:

The other day at work, a nigger started in how we, white people, are now taking advantage of getting welfare, food stamps, and living in government housing. He went on to said, "Whites can work for their shit while paying for our shit." Then he made a big mistake. He told us that he is ripping off the government by having his wife claiming welfare and food stamps by saying he left them. He show us one of the welfare checks made out to the amount of $1000 dollars. This nigger makes 10 dollar an hour and throw this in all of our faces.

So i did what anyone would have done, i call someone i know at the welfare office and food stamps office. I told them what said and they said they would look into it. Behold, two days later, the same nigger came in and told us they cut the welfare off and they have to paid back 4500 dollars in food stamps they have stolen in the past 5 yrs.

He said, how dare the white man cut my shit off? They should cut off the white people shit off first. It is hard for a black man to make it the world.

I had enough and told me, "Guess what? Stop whining and work for your living. You make more money than me and i still manage to get by. I am the only one in my household working trying to support my wife and my kids on 6 dollars an hour. You think you have it hard please there are people who have it worse than you."

It shut his nigger ass up.

You make only $6.00 an hour?

I bring this up not to belittle or dishonor but to compliment you in taking responsibility to do what a man has to do to support his family. Your attitude is refreshing.

All legal work has inherent dignity attached to it and if you are supporting a family on $6.00 then you must be working 70 hours a week.

You are a white man who isn't acting like a nigger.

Thank you for your contribution to Coontact Tales and best wishes to you and your family. I mean that and everyone else I know does too.

Coontact Tale #248(October 18, 2004)

Just lost my job of 5yrs. because a lazy fucking negroid went a cried about my "abusive and threatning" launguage.


Me and this guy relieved each other for a manual job. He took a longer break than allowed. I tell him he needs to get back to the job cuz breaks over. He starts talking his ghetto shit about "You need to respect this shit" blah blah blah. I said whatever your breaks over get to the job or we're both fucked. He says don't worry about me I got this. I said hey if you fuck me then I'm going to fuck you. He gets up goes to the boss and cries. She makes us file incident reports and gets witnesses to file them.

I clock out and they tell me I'm terminated for harrasment and threatning behavor towards another employee.

I can't even defend myself. I didn't even get to talk to HR. Just walked out of the building by the boss.

Lost a great paying job because of a lazy ass fat mother fucker. Thanks nigga. You people make me racist.

Sorry to hear it but I've always said the only person who can make a racist is a nigger.
Coontact Tale #249(October 21, 2004)

I recall an incident many years ago whe I was flying a TWA B-707, cruising at 35,000' if I recall correctly, in the air space controlled by Indianapolis Center ATC. This had to be sometime in the 1970's.

This Center was the spot used by the FAA to train their new hires, and was infamous for it's problems. This was shortly after the enactment of the so-called Civil Rights bill. It was obvious from her voice that I was being handled by a black woman.

My F/O and I spotted an aircraft in the distance that maintained the same relative spot in the windshield, indicating a risk of collision condition existed. It's hard to tell which traffic is level with you at altitude, so I inquired of Center the altitude of the other aircraft, as it was getting bigger all the time.

No reply. At that point, I decided to take evasive action, and made a hard turn to avoid it, descended 500', and notified Center of my action. No reply.

At that point I transmitted "Center, this is TWA 123, requesting a white male controller, over". Immediately a white man was on with me, calmy reassuring me I had done the right thing, and advsied me of a new heading to resume on course. Meanwhile, the other aircraft whizzed by at my assigned altitude.

I fully expected to be hauled into the Chief Pilot's office for an explanation of my exhibit of sexism, racism, Chauvinism, etc., but NOTHING of the sort happened.

Coontact Tale #250(October 21, 2004)

Any time blacks take over the jobs, the quality is sure to go down.

My sister's instructor is a black guy but does nothing but tells the students what to do but not how to do it. She said all he does is sit on his ass the entire class time.

Public transportation is used by alot of people in San Fran, even sometimes by people with cars. When the blacks became the majority of the drivers for the buses, they were always late, inconsistent, and rude.

People are not supposed to eat on the subway/train known as the BART. But fat black women with their kids (resembling what is shown on those sites) are eating, open mouthed, making a mess and being LOUD.

I remember a fat chinese woman eating sunflower seeds leaving a pile of shells next to her on the ground. These things happen all the time.

In general, in the mostly non-white neighborhoods, the dirtier and more run down the place.

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