Pizza Hut, A Letter To Jesus & Co., The Salvation Of Bambi, etc.

[FutureDonkey]

Pizza Hut

__________

So yesterday I got in a bit late but I caught the last hour of Raw and then some. While I was watching it, I was introduced to a brand new commercial for Pizza Hut. Now, don’t mistake my eventual usage of swear words, I do, indeed, like me some Pizza Hut, however, this night I was taken aback by the sheer dumbassishness of the commercial, one of those commercials where they say the people who are acting in the commercial are real people, not actors (which can be realisticly argued since they look like complete prawns and dipshits molded like putty in the hands of the people paying them; actors would do this less obviously), despite the fact that they are acting. I was watching the commercial and thinking to myself, “Do they really have no fucking clue how retarded this shit is?” Then it occurred to me that they don’t, thus the reason for this column. See, the thing is, if they recognized the stupidity of it, surely they would change it, as making a necessary change in such a circumstance is just good business model; so, clearly they either don’t see how it might make someone like me irritated, or they do see this, but it doesn’t matter because they know that most people will just accept it and follow the induced urge to eat chicken wings at Pizza Hut. I mean, they did look pretty damn good.



Said commercial showed a bunch of people at a sports bar eating chicken wings and exclaiming, often with triumphant jubilation, how incredible they were--while the whole time they were being “secretly” taped. Some Pizza Hut dudes and dudettes came out and explained the whole thing to everyone, thus amplifying their legit amazement at the quality of the product. OK, so this was pretty damn fake looking, but, that is a nonpoint right now because they got the job done by making me think about wings even to this point late the next day. Honestly, the BBQ wings looked so good that I could totally go for some right now; but I won’t, because I don’t like feeling sold. Then when Raw came on the air I started making weird connections between a seemingly common place advertisement that I typically couldn’t care less about and a product that I used to care about a lot more than I do now.



Sometimes commercials are absolutely terrible and you spend most of your time making fun of their idiocy and definitely do not have any desire to spend your money on the advertised product (Snuggies come mind); interestingly, I often feel the same way about what Monday Night Raw “advertises,” if you will. When I see little Hornswoggle running around on a fake sugar high, constantly making noises that a normal human either couldn’t replicate or would be shot for trying, I understand that I am not supposed to be feeling animosity or anger towards him, I’m supposed to go “Awww” at how cute he is and then laugh (a lot). But that is never the case for me. When I see him like that I tend to say words like “fuck” and “goddamn” and I’m in a very agitated mood all around. When I see Hornswoggle getting pummeled ruthlessly by Chris Masters I’m being sold feelings of anguish and remorse at the poor dude’s plight as well as a feeling of rage at the vile actions of the “The Masterpiece”; but I’m not buying it and most people around here aren’t either, instead, we usually feel immense joy at his bad Karma finally coming around to bite off not just part of his ass, but the whole damn thing. Fortunately I’m not homophobic, which would explain why I was able to write that last sentence with such fluid ease.



But this definitely does not just apply to that piece of crap, the same principles can be applied to anything and everything in wrestling. Tiffany, the GM of ECW: I’m supposed to think “Fuck, she’s hot; and how great is it that a woman is so well empowered--go women!”; instead, I usually think “Fuck, she’s hot; this has to be one of the dumbest hoes that ever came out of a vagina.”



While I’m talking about the ladies I might as well say that we’re being sold the moniker of “Smart, Sexy, and Powerful,” but no-one, not even the casual fans, are buying it. Some women are sexy, some are beautiful, and some are cute as well (cute girls FTW!). There are also women who are smart and have attractive aspects too; but since when does “smart” have anything to do with WWE Divas? Last I checked, they were intended as piss breaks (notice the convenient timing of Divas’ matches before the ME), eye candy for guys that don’t get out enough pussy (us), and a way to fill up space while simultaneously putting in enough effort to not look sexist. The WWE advertising these women as being sexy I’ll buy in a heartbeat; but when they advertise them as powerful (Tiffany) and smart (I’m sure Tiffany will fit the bill once again), not only do I not have any desire to buy, I also feel insulted because I’m being blatantly lied to. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that they’re all dumb bitches or that they aren’t powerful or anything, that might be far from the truth, but what I am saying is that if the WWE is going to tell us that this is what they are, then they might as well get it fucking right and not insult our intelligence.



John Cena and his serious promos: they are intended to give me the impression that Mr. Deere may like to have a lot of fun, but when it gets down to the nitty-gritty, this dude brings it like no other; however, I’m usually just laughing my ass off because of how ridiculous he is when cutting a serious promo, particularly that look of “serious disgust” he has, much too similar to the look that kid gave CM Punk on SmackDown! when he came out dressed emo like Hardy. The worst part of it is that I now can’t even take an Undertaker promo seriously anymore. Because of Cena’s “serious” promos, I can hardly take any promos, let alone the Undertaker’s promos, seriously anymore.



Undertaker is billed to inspire fear in the hearts of men, living and dead, and gods, he plays effective mind games that will tear out the sanity of the most stable man in the lockerroom, he dominates anything that dares cross his unholy path, he is the master of everything evil, the playwright of sin itself, the keeper of hell’s gates, the last ride into the maw of darkness, he is The Deadman--he supposed to be, anyway; all I see is a broken old man who shouldn’t be in the ring anymore, unless it is to put over, effectively, younger talent--rather than take that young talent’s gold. The Phenom is just a Peeping Tom... What the fuck did that even mean?



Then there is Randy Orton: he may run away all of the time these days, but it doesn’t change the fact that the WWE tries in earnest to portray him as the ultimate badass; while I may love the guy, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a little bitch with tattoos. We’re supposed to fear that man, cower before his psychotic ramblings, stand in awe of his methodical and intelligently slow amble into the ring, and stand in even greater awe of his vicious-looking prescence atop the middle turnbuckle, glaring into the crowd. In his matches he is portrayed as a vile, cunning, uncaring man; yet he always runs away. We’re led to believe that this is that he is both incredibly intelligent and because he’s a coward. So, since when are psychotics cowards? They seek to portray him as the uncontrollable I.E.D. victim he was around Royal Rumble time, but no matter how hard they attempt to convince us that this is the same Randy Orton, no-one buys it because they fail everytime they have him run, everytime he hides behind someone, everytime he cringes in fear, and everytime Cena dominates him like it’s nobody’s business.



But it doesn’t stop there. R-Truth: the guy is presented as both a highly talented wrestler and rapper; I’m seeing a guy who flips like a dolphin and raps like a wigger. Shelton Benjamin: week in and week out this guy is plugged as the best pure athlete in the WWE; week in and week out I see a jobber to the stars. Yoshi Tatsu: a man who is shown as the future of ECW and one of the best wreslters on the roster, particularly with his high-flying offence and the fact that he is Asian; I’m looking at a mofo that isn’t all that great, happens to have the most annoying theme music I’ve ever heard, and has a meaningless gimmick of bowing constantly, just because he’s Asian and, as we all know, all Asians bow constantly. Charlie Haas: actually, this is a pretty similar situation to Shelton’s. Batista: he is supposed to be one of the greatest of all time, he is supposed to be one of the best wreslters in the WWE, he is supposed to be a violently strong “Animal”; instead, I blatantly am bombarded with an extremely slow, incompetent, roided up asshole who botches nearly every Batista Bomb he makes, unless the guy he’s destroying is Jimmy Wang Yang-sized. MVP: well, he is meant to be a bottle-poppin’, hoe-droppin’, pimp daddy bling machine who just happens to love all the Average Joe’s and Jill’s of the world, including all the ugly little babies; I see a guy who has all the potential in the world, but he is completely stalled out by being both a face (something contrary to his persona) and a non-main eventer--he’s meant to be gold, but he’s turning into bronze. Kane: he is advertised as the ultimate monstrosity, as the most “demented” (thank you Michael Cole), sadistic, and deranged guy to ever set foot in a WWE ring; yet every fucking week I see a guy who runs away from a crippled Indian giant, a guy who is pinned by someone who can’t even pick him up, and I see him slowly fading away into irrelevancy even though he is one of the best big men in WWE history.



There is no question in my mind regarding the hypocrisy those in charge of the WWE possess, just as there is no doubt that they all think we are a bunch of mindless, worthless dumbshits who will follow them no matter what they do. But the most frustrating thing for me is Triple H.



They want me to believe he’s the King of Kings and the greatest wrestler who ever lived; then I see Shawn Michaels and know that all of that was bullshit.



After that Pizza Hut commercial was over Raw started up again and we came in to see Triple H getting punished but holding his own as he always does. I’ll admit that I was a bit surprised that he was the one who would play the face in distress and I was even happy with him at that point. Maybe he wasn’t that selfish after all. Once he made the hot tag to Shawn, everything came crumbling down. I realized quickly enough that he was just biding his time and that Shawn (as usual) would be the one to get the most punishment and, ultimately, be the one who carried the match while H would get the credit. So, I was pissed. Not an unusual feeling while watching Raw.



The whole match thus far I had been cheering for JeriShow to pick up the win and hated every moment that either Shawn or Trips had the upperhand. Then something happened. Jericho and The Big Show were wrecking Michaels’ back and I started to feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time in wrestling--my markdom. Shawn, who still one of my favorites, was getting brutalized with kicks to the back, being thrown into the turnbuckle, and even with a vicious torture rack at the hands of Show, and I just felt truly awful for the guy. At that moment I started cheering for him to make a comeback, and cheering for him loudly. This seemingly forever lost feeling of mine didn’t change the fact that I knew that this that was being presented to me wasn’t real, it, instead, changed the way I looked at the match. I knew it was worked, but I didn’t care anymore because Shawn Michaels, like no-one else in the WWE, sold me his pain, his suffering, his desparate condition, and truly sold me the fact that he was the face in peril. But Triple H, for me, wasn’t in this equation, in fact, JeriShow was hardly in the equation either; it was all about Shawn. Last night, he evoked in me those feelings of being a true fan, feelings that are usually locked away, far away, for the majority of us. He made me cheer for him, he made me hate the wrestler who was hurting him, he made me love the very fact that he fought on and on and didn’t give up, no matter his pain or anything that got in his way. I knew what was happening to myself and it shocked me, to say the least, but I welcomed it all the way and I certainly don’t regret it. It was so nice to see something that I am supposed to care about, and then, beyond all hope, I actually care about it.



I was presented with a situation that I knew was fully predetermined, yet the product was so incredible that, despite certain parts of this presentation being atrocious in a way, being ridiculous and over the top for no reason, and even being fairly gay because it’s a sweaty, hairy half-naked man holding an oiled up, hairless half-naked man, I couldn’t stop wanting that product, and I can’t stop wanting it today.



I doubt if this will happen again anytime soon, but when it does, I know I will welcome it with open arms. Last night I watched a wrestling match as a fan.

__________

[Phoenix Rising]

Just a few quick thoughts:

When WWE says 'powerful' in reference to the Divas, I think they mean strong physically.
You could've expanded this even more and given each superstar more than a sentence when you gave the divas a whole paragraph.
And there were a couple grammatic mistakes, such as words being left out.

But I enjoyed it none the less, good work.

[Uncle Joe]

You finally made "the Leap'; you used your unique style, yet toned down the obscurity and absurdness so that most will get it.


I had this same exact feeling, on the same exact night, on the same program; one Mike Mizanin beat Kofi Kingston for the US Title. Just like you, I know wrestling is fake, but that's what makes it so special; it's so fake yet can still illicit these responses from us is the best thing. I sat there last night and said "Yes, my boy finally did it'. I have been touting the Miz since Tough Enough, so to see him win his first singles title was like the end of a chapter, but hopefully it will not be the end of the book of the Miz; I know there's still more to come. This is why, no matter how bored or sucky wrestling gets, I will always watch, for that feeling.


Great job FD. BTW, those wings suck.

[steve bullshit]

This was really good.

You pointed out all the shit that i despise from the 'E.

You verbalize my hate for the crap that is shove down my throat.

But at the end, with your HBK example, you make me remember why i'm addicted to wrestling.

Thank you

[Super Chrisss]

Haha, I couldn't agree with you more!

Like Joe said, I think this was your true 'breaking out" column as you seem to have all the basics down to succeed. Now, whether you do or you don't is all up to you but you've got some serious potential in my eyes.

Awesome format, and awesome flow. Watch out for little errors like "wreslters" and you're good!

[Freeman]

Muuuuuuch better. You switched up the style, tryed something different and entertained the hell out of me. I finally understand one of your colums 100%, and consequently I feel it was the best one you've produced yet. Entertaining from start to finish, and with your own personal touch added to good effect.

Great job sir, keep up the good work.

[LimeFlavored]

Not sure how exactly to add my comments other than it was good.

[FutureDonkey]

Phoenix Rising

Thanks man, I'm glad you liked it; I fucking hate it when I drop words like that.


Uncle Joe

Maybe it is, maybe it isn't; of course, you would actually know, I wouldn't. Yeah, we both had one of those moments and it is great to see that we still can have those moments, because if we couldn't, I don't know why wrestling would be worth watching.


steve bullshit

Dude, I fucking love that name. Anyway, it's great to see that our thoughts are so in line. I often feel the same way about wrestling, and then there are those aforementioned "moments" that pull me back in.


Super Chrisss

But I thought "wreslters" was how you spelled it correctly.

We'll see if I can keep it up.


Freeman

Awesome that I finally don't have you scratching your head.


LimeFlavored

Your left thumb is epic.
__________________________________________________ ______________

A Letter To Jesus & Co.



__________

Hey, what’s up guys? Listen, I heard that the three of you all recently married each other in one of those new “triad marriages,” so once I got your mailing address (from one of my Negro friends; forgive me Father, for I have sinned) I decided that rather than send each of you individual letters, I’d just send one letter for all of you to enjoy as one big happy family. I hope you’ll help me out, because I’m getting to the point in my life where having illicit sex with prostitutes (Negro prostitutes, usually; forgive me Father, for I have sinned) seems to be a wise decision, a decision which will kill me because of the AIDs (which though hast sent upon the Negroes for their sinfulness), but will feed my wife and kids with the insurance money. Things are very difficult for me now, and I know that you three are the only ones that could help me out of this delicate rub.




Dear Jesus:


Hey, man, I’m really sorry that I haven’t talked to you in a long time, it’s just that I’ve been busy with a lot of stuff; but you know everything’s cool because when I was a little boy I always did what I was told to do, and I even ate my vegetables, said my prayers, worked hard, and now (to make up for my failings in my youth) take a whole lot of pills. Especially the blue ones. So, yeah, you know I’m a decent guy who’s just trying to make it in the world. In fact, I got to tell you this right now before I forget, I gave a homeless guy five whole dollars the other day. Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lie; the truth is that I gave him four whole dollars because I wanted to buy a bag of Lay’s with the other dollar. I’m sure he was able to buy enough alcoholic beverages to last him through the night, though, so everything is cool, and I promise to give him a bag of chips next time I see him.



Like I said, I’m a good guy, and I just was hoping that maybe you could, you know, help me out just a little tiny, teeny, tiny, tiny little bit. Could you, please? See, the thing is, I’m going bald, not by a whole lot yet, but it’s getting to the point where no matter how hard I work on my hair, I just can’t seem to cover up all the spots; the the very back of my head is starting to get too sparse for my liking. So it would be awesome if you did something about that, because I have to keep up my looks for the business I’m in. Speaking of looks, I get a lot of flack from some people for wearing my pants so high, but, the thing is, I just love to wear them that way because they tuck in my tummy so well, just like granny panties do. I wondering if maybe you could make it fashionable again to wear pants that go up to that place where they sliced off your umbilical cord? I hope you can.



Fine, I’ll admit it, my hair and my tummy aren’t the only reason I’m here. You see, it’s like, I’m getting older and all and I’m worried that even now at this age I’ll be cut from my job, much less in the next five years. The company I work for is huge and they never really use me all that much, and when they do use me it’s in a completely negative way. I’m mostly writing this letter to you, Jesus, because I would like you to give me a special power. I was playing World of Warcraft the other day and this guy came out of nowhere and shot a fireball at me, nearly killing me; I would like you to give me the power to cast fireballs at my opponents in the ring. It would be a lot like what Kane does, but it shouldn’t be pyrotechnical or anything like that, it should be real and be able to burn wrestlers like the fires of hell (which is where all Negroes belong, as you well know). At the end of the day, I’m just kind’ve, you know, boring and tedious, and I know that I wouldn’t be like that if I could shoot fireballs out of my hands. Actually, wow, that just gave me a brilliant idea! Instead of giving me the power to shoot fireballs out of my hands, why don’t you just give me a magical staff that can shoot all sorts of elemental magic out of it? That would be so cool; thanks.



I have one more thing, would you like to start accompanying me to the ring? See, since I lost my partner and since I don’t have certain things the right size, I can’t get feminine people to come out to the ring with me anymore, so, I was wondering, if you’d be cool with being my manager for now on?



Sorry, but I just remembered something else that I need help with. Could you maybe not send my former tag partner to hell, even though he is a Negro? He's a really good guy I promise and he's never greasy or anything when he is eating his fried chicken and he doesn't listen to that much hip-hop either. I guess I just feel bad for the guy because he'll never go nearly as far as I have, especially after you guys give me all of this help and I win my first World Heavyweight Championship.




Dear Allah:


It’s great to finally get to sort’ve speak to you, mister; I have a few complaints and questions. First, are you a Negro? The reason I ask is that I do not like Negroes and I don’t want to be talking to a Negro, even through the separation of paper? I don’t like Negroes because they are less than human. Did you know that in the Bible it shows where the sons of Abraham went to after they left their father? Well, it shows that the bad one went to Africa and produced Negroes while he was there. Therefore, Negroes are all bad and they should be slaves of the white man. Besides that, it is obvious, based on appearance, that they are lesser to the white man. Their lips are so huge and immobile that they serve no valuable purpose other than to just hang there and do nothing. What about their extremely wide noses? They were clearly made that way to let Satan into their bodies more easily. Lastly, I must say that they have rather large butts and this is from their blatant laziness; it is a sign of the devil and one of the seven great sins--slothfulness. So, if you are a Negro, please go back to Africa where God intended you to be.



I guess my complaint would be that I don’t like it when you make your Muslim priest guys wear beards. I’ve always thought that they look too rugged that way, and would actually look almost dashing with a clean-shaven face.



Anyway, it would be the best if you could send my boss a bunch of virgins or something like that. I love you. I promise I’ll pray to you five times a day.




Dear Santa Claus:


Yo, Santa, how have you been, man? Haven’t seen you since I was a little kid and I walked in on you and my mom. I know that you like lists, so I’ll give you a list of things I’d like you to get me (it can be at Christmas if you’d like to stick with tradition), but I also will elaborate on them just a little.



1. A look on my face other than the blank, expressionless look that I normally have. It can be any type of expression, just as long as it’s different. You could go for a happy smile, full pouty lips, angry eyebrows, the “jolly” look that you usually have for yourself, indigestion, fatness, toughness, sweetness--it can be anything you like, just as long as it doesn’t have me staring into the distance like I’m a coyote in the midwest and I just saw a jackrabbit start running away but the sun is so hot that I’m just looking at it instead and not ever going anywhere, even though I have the ability to do so.



2. Charisma. Yep, I think I’d like a little of this stuff. You see, I want get people to care about me whether or not I win or lose. They need to either hate me or love me, I’m no tweener, I don’t want anything in between. I'm quite possibly the greatest wrestler to have ever lived, so, understandibly, I want to be able to pull out all the stops.



3. There is never a three.



4. A lack of boringness. Sorry if that isn’t a word, but I would like to be more exciting and, you know, just get out more and seem like someone who wouldn’t be content with staying at home and eating potato chips while watching "Myth Busters" or "How It's Made." I also don’t want to seem like someone who drinks a lot of Smirnoff Ice; so maybe make me talk like I’m drunk or something.



5. Condoms. This may seem a little weird to you and all, but I was hoping that you would provide me with a lifetime supply of condoms. I’m afraid that I might lose my job and so if I lose it then I won’t have enough money to buy condoms and have sex with Negro prostitutes.



6. Championship gold. Yeah, I think I’d fancy a run with like the World Heavyweight Championship or something. I feel like my boss might be on the verge of giving me the biggest push of my career (he gave me a match with that white guy that wants to be a Negro), and I just keep feeling like it’s getting closer and closer and just next week or the week after that I know I’m going to get my big break. It’d be great if you could just nudge him in the right direction.



7. Help me get over my urge to kill myself. Lately I’ve been thinking that I’m completely worthless and have no purpose in life because no-one cares about me that much outside of my family, and so I was wondering what it would be like to get an STD. See, I’ve always wanted to know what they were like, or, you know, how they felt when they were inside of you. So, I would love it if you get me some sleep medication.



OK, so that’s about it, but now I have to tell you a story that I’ve wanted to tell someone for a long time: Vince McMahon caught me rubbing my championship belt on my genitalia one time, which is why my push was stopped and why me and my tag partner were split apart. (Apparently, McMahon told him about it, and told him that I was doing it in front of one of his posters.) Like I said before, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to have STDs and I thought that this would be a great way to see what it feels like. I figured that the cold metal would create a burning sensation and then I’d know for sure. Unfortunately I never found out, which is why I am wanting to have sex with a Negro. I guess it is the evil “Sons of Anarchy” type of guy in me that is provoking these desires. Excuse me, I now must go and get Mr. McMahon a variety of diverse and multi-colored hot dogs of various thicknesses and lengths.



I'll give you a box of nuts later.




Yours truly,
Charlie Haas.




PS: Allah, I was hoping you wouldn't mind teaching me how to make quesadillas some time? Oh and, while you're at it, could you buy me a name that isn't as gay as the one that I have now? Also, I've always wanted a scimitar, so, if you don't mind, pop by a Renaissance fair and do your thing.



PPS: This is a little embarrasing, but could one of you get me a penis pump and maybe some self-confidence?

__________

[FreekyDeeky]

i doubt Charlie Haas even be able to get people to give a shit about him even if had Jesus, Allah and Santa Claus all on his side.

Poor guy

Good read though Donkey and looking forward to the salvation of Bambi.

[FutureDonkey]

The Freeky Deeky Machine

Glad you enjoyed, homie. I legit feel bad for Haas, myself.


Don't expect anything more to be added to this endeavor. I'm not giving up, not by a long shot; however, I have realized that I'll just burn myself up if I'm not careful. Everyone can look forward to The Salvation of Bambi very soon.

[Martin Riggs]

Dude, don't even fucking start. You watch these commercials, and you see awful, boring, shitty acting. Me? I see those commercials that I SHOULD BE GETTING, knowing i can do better, being in the same career, and somehow these talentless hacks are getting all the breaks.

But anyway, columnwise this was solid, you stayed on point long enough with each one to give it relevancy, until you went into the multitudes of examples and one-liners (which you were entitled to do, it proved your point that so many superstars are at fault, so kudos) And it was generally quite entertaining to read. Good stuff, hombre.

EDIT: shhiiiit, motherfuckers have got to stop adding to columns with replies... i didn't read the letters shit! Ugh.

[Benjamin Button]

Comical read there, Donkey. It didn't seem to have a point, but niether does Charlie Haas. You did manage to sum up Charlie Haas' problems in the last sentence.

[Andy]

You're getting better and better. Both of these columns (?) were thoroughly enjoyable, but cut Hass some slack! I will say, though, that the first entry was verging on redundant with the whole 'watching it as a fan thing'. I'll be eagerly awaiting your next.

[FutureDonkey]

Johnny Boomerang


I shall be dividing your columnal feedback into three neatly organized paragraphs, thus mimicking your own personal three neatly organized paragraphs.


Paragraph 1: Chill, dude, chill


Paragraph 2: Thanks man, I'm thrilled you're impressed with my writing evolution. Personally, I felt the one-liners were a good move to make so that I could pound out my reaction to the real (lol) world of wrestling in a more powerful fashion. I'm not Mexican and neither are you; never say "hombre."


Paragraph 3: Again... Chill.



Bubble Butt


Great to see that you found it was a fun little read. Truth is, this Haas column was just a throwaway and I had it down in like half an hour; my real shizzle was "Pizza Hut."



Andy


Yeah, I was a bit worried my first column (?) (what the fuck, it was a column, don't give me any of that question mark nonsense) would be too redundant, but hey, I tried. I'm glad you enjoyed my stuff this time around.


Peace out y'allzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.................. ................



EDIT: That ^ last bit reeked of a ghaytasm.

[Martin Riggs]

hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre hombre


Who I am isn't determined by where I'm from

[FutureDonkey]

Quite true, I'll admit. I mean, just because I'm a thoroughly un-constipated white dude, doesn't mean that I can't chow down on some extremely spicy Indian curry. Thank you for your highly valuable posting skills.