Something About Nano

Every so often I sit back in my chair and think about the various spheres of influence in my life, and how they shape my day to day thoughts. While true, thoughts of love, happiness and hilarious Japanese pornography penetrate most of my thoughts, so too does my unbridled need to understand the run-of-the-mill douche bag.

To this day, I am continuously confused and perplexed at how many women I meet that are with guys who are bigger bags of shit than if I were to literally fill a six foot bag full of shit. These guys are the douchiest of the douche. We all know who I?m talking about, but the reality of it all is that we need them.

In fact I would argue that we need douche bags for the same reasons we need villains, criminals, and disturbing sexual acts involving shell fish ? parity. Every good needs a bad. Every black needs a white. Every nice guy needs a douche bag.

As a result I have composed a little prayer that we can all say to honour the douche, and hope that he retains his position in the world. Keep in mind I composed this to the tune of the Christian God, but I mean if you have a different faith you could totally just change the words…but remember, we can eat bacon.

Dear Lord

Please bless the douchebag. He knows not what he does. As it is written, please watch out for him and his full sleeve tattoo that probably is written in a foreign language of which he has no linguistic grasp, yet he chooses to continuously tell people that it means something deep and spiritual because it defines who he is. We all know that in no way, shape, or form do the Japanese characters for Strength, Integrity, or Power apply to him but we?ll let him think that.

Oh your Holiness, who watches over us, please take care of our douchiest of douches and their ridiculously waxed eyebrows that make them look like extras in a Richard Greco lookalike contest. Forgive them for they know not what they do. Please redeem them as their false sense of self worth and determination to wear a pop-collared shirt at any expense overwhelms the majority of their thoughts.

Creator of creators, do not let them be judged too critically for the douchebag s love their Puka Shell necklaces, and their oversized Gucci belt buckles that they like to prominently display. Please be kind to them as they march through existence reeking of sleazy cologne and Eau du Date Rape.

Oh gracious God, please look out for the douche as he and his trucker hat lend so much to our wonderful existence. We must thank the Douche for his never-ending need to ask how much bottle service is at bars, regardless of whether or not he is going to be buying a bottle.

Please ensure that their Ed hardy Jacket or Affliction Hoody does not get damaged when they inevitably utter the phrase, ?want to go!?? at the end of their evening. Oh Lord, please if you are kind let all of the douche bag?s frosted hair treatments go over well, so that we may behold hair so spiky that it could make a triceratops vagina jealous.

Dear Divine Creator, if you should so see fit please bless the Douche who is so Tanned, Crayola had to create a new colour called Douche Beige. Look after the douche as he hits on other men?s girlfriends in their weakest/drunkest state, with full acknowledgement that their boyfriends are not around.

Forgive the douche for quoting movies like Scarface, Donnie Brasco, Swingers and Borat to a level that makes one want to seek out and kill Al Pacino, Johnny Depp, / Vince Vaughn, and Sasha Baron Cohen respectively for ever agreeing to those scripts.

Please of heavenly father protect the douche for his heavy desire to inform everyone of his disturbingly deep, even sexual, attraction to terrible eastern European techno music. Please extend this protection to the act of the douche taking 3000 pictures of him and his douchebag girlfriend, hereafter referred to as a Douchegina (pronounced DOOSH-ji-NAH), and telling everybody how hot she is, when its clearly evident that albeit her fake breasts and wanton love of sex is admirable, she intellectually ranks right up there with a sea sponge, and early mammalian life.

Sweet forgiving Lord, please look past the fact that they make sure everyone see how much they tip, or that every once and a while they slip into their tongue of ancestry even if they have never lived there.

Please make sure that their ultra-tight Diesel Shirts NEVER rip, and continuously oh Lord protect the doucehbag?s overly groomed chinstrap beard that makes him look like you are a balding teddy bear, or a high-functioning Down?s syndrome case.

Lord Almighty, take care of the douche especially when he talks about that time he was in South East Asia for two months and how it changed him spiritually, even though we all know all he did was tip Thai Lady boys for seven dollar blowjobs.

Oh Creator extend your protection for the Douche?s action of pulling out their cell phone camera and posing with expensive hyper luxury cars on the side of the street and pretending it?s theirs.

Blessed Lord, please look past the douche bag?s excessive, if not overbearing usage of the word Bro and his need to put gaudy and unnecessary exhaust pipes on his already souped up intro-level sports car.

We ask you this in the name of the Lord

Amen.

I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated somethingaboutnano.com, and for all of my fans out there I apologize.  If you want the reason why, I’ll be happy to tell you personally via email if you request it.  Lack of production aside, I feel a little free association now and then never hurt anybody so here it goes. 

The Olympics:

The Olympics are an amazing world event that brings everybody together and cheering for one’s country on a scale which is virtually unimitatable with any other event outside of a possible inter-nation orgy, or seeing me hit on a girl.  

Simply put, this shit is bananas. 

It’s also amazing for other reasons, but I won’t get into a huge write up about the games themselves just a few things that irk me that I’ve overheard that I think need addressing.

Test Events

Every four years the IOC will allow “test” events into the Olympics and see if they take on the global stage.  Some criteria for these events to stay include their ability to be televised, global ubiquity, fan attraction and marketability.  Needless to say it is no surprise that such tard-fuck events like the Tug-O-War, Solo-synchronized swimming, Club Swinging, Live Pigeon Shooting, and Horse Long Jump did not make the cut.

Tug –O-War most likely not making it because, well, nobody outside of grade school children and drunken idiots at corporate retreats play Tug-O-War.  Solo-synchronized swimming didn’t make it because viewers quickly realized that a solo dance routine in a pool looks something akin to a guy having an epileptic seizure.  Live Pigeon Shooting, despite being incredibly manly and badass didn’t make it because of that whole killing animals thing.  Oh and Horse Long Jump?  Are you fucking kidding me?

This leads itself to a few more events that are currently on the Olympic Roster that I think need to go.  These events being: Table Tennis, Trampoline, and Equestrian Events.

Let’s just get to the thick of it and start with Table Tennis.  Look, I love any sport that can be turned into a drinking game as much as the next guy, but the only reason Table Tennis even MADE the Olympics was because they wanted Asians to have something to go for.  Well, shit China has no problem winning GOLD so I say we scratch this ridiculous event altogether.

Second I’d remove the Trampoline portion of the Gymnastics competition.   I don’t want to sound like a negative bastard, but honestly nobody grows up saying to themselves, “I want to win a Gold in Trampolining when I’m older.”   I mean sure Canada has won a medal in this event, so I guess I shouldn’t be so anti-tramp, (and normally I’m not – heyo!), but it’s like the IOC was just mailing in the effort when this was on the voting table.

Finally, the entire equestrian event program should be struck from the list.  Why? Because I fucking hate horses.

Michael Phelps:

Ok, it is with almost no argument that Michael Phelps is the greatest Olympian of our day.  It is also with no argument that I’ve seen enough breasts in my day to make a dairy farmer cry, but there’s a point where you have to put your foot down.   

Michael Phelps can now honestly go up to anybody in the world and have this conversation:

Michael Phelps: “Hi I’m Michael Phelps, 14-time Olympic Gold Medalist in Swimming.  You know that thing you do when you’re in the water?”

Random Person: “What? Swimming?”

Michael Phelps: “Yeah, that.  I’m the best at that in the World.  Yeah, you know the close to seven billion people on earth?  ll I’m the greatest at swimming in every capacity, and I’ve been that guy for 10 years.”

Well to that I have to say, “Fuck you Michael, fix your teeth.”

Bad Bridal Parties:

Ok getting the Olympics off my chest was great, but now I would like to discuss another thing - Bridal Parties.  More specifically three categories of bridal parties:

1.       Ugly Bridal Parties

2.       Lame Bridal Parties

3.       Ugly & Lame Bridal Parties

I can honestly say that I am not sure if I will ever be married.   I am in no way opposed to the institution of marriage, or monogamy for that matter; however, if you were to do a rundown of women I have dated “somewhat officially”, over the past six years in no particular order it would look something like this and not exactly suggest I’m getting  hitched any time soon:

Girl A – Wasn’t looking for a boyfriend.  Dumped me via email.
Girl B – Wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. (Editor’s note:  whore.) Dumped me via written letter.
Girl C – Moving away for school. Dumped via email & Phone. 
Girl D – Moving away for school/Bad timing.  Dumped me in person.
Girl E – Was not over an ex.  Dumped me via…well she never really dumped me, but I figured after about a week of not returning my messages that I should swing my bat elsewhere.
Girl F – Was moving away, then ends up not moving away.  Dumped me in person.
Girl G – Fell out of love with me, not ready for a BF. Dumped me over the phone.

Now I’m sure you’re thinking…shit dude, you get dumped worse than bad Indian food, and while true, you’d forget to take into account that in all of those scenarios I was never some over bearing douche bag who was forcing a girl to be anything at any point.  Most of the time it was just shitty timing, and I treated all of them like gold.  I’m just unlucky.

My point in referencing all of that is simply that it is very difficult to fathom the concept of marriage at this point, until I come across a girl that blows me away to a point where I see it being an actual possibility.  On that note, big parts of marriage are the stags and staggettes, also known at bridal parties.

It is in these final venues of debauchery where the men and women soon to be wed have their last hurrah, and generally speaking have a fun time, and hopefully don’t end up hooking up with one of your best friends and roommates.  Not that that has ever happened.  Serious.

Regardless of whose mouth is going to be on whose genitals, the night can be marred for three of the abovementioned reasons.   Keep in mind, when I say “the night” I mean MY night.

Ugly Bridal Parties:
I truly believe in the pursuit of happiness, and good times for all.  I’m a HUGE advocate for people who are genuinely in love, and want to honour the vows of marriage to have it.  I’m even up for the less than visually aesthetic groups of the population to meet and procreate no matter how much I’m going to not flirt with their ugly offspring later in life when I’m a senior and being creepy in my nursing home. 

What I truly can’t stand unfortunately is the “ugly bridal party.”  We all know what I’m talking about…your night is going well, you have a solid three or four drink buzz on, the music is flowing, you’re on your “A” game, then all of a sudden what I like to call a “Bad 30” rolls into the bar. 

Bad 30: when a group of six women who would at best scale to 5/10 each walk into the bar at the same time. Get it? 5+5+5+5+5+5 = 30

A Bad 30 is terrible enough on its own, and even worse when they start to affect your night.  Typically you can avoid them by directing all of your efforts on substantially more attractive women at the bar; however the power of the “aggressive fatty” (AF) can never be over looked. 

[Editors note: Ladies, if you’re reading this and you don’t have an aggressive fat friend then God bless you, otherwise you all have an aggressive fatty friend.  If you can’t recognize her, she’s the one who prays to God she can fit in her Seven for all Mankind, Citizens of Humanity, or designer True Religion jeans, but in all honesty it looks like she’s choking a ham with denim.    She knows the DJ, has one of the bouncers on speed dial, gave a guy a blowjob in the coat check room once, and pretends her drink is drugged to get attention when we all God damn know nobody with a functional penis would get within two feet of her. ]

The AF is going to be the uber-charismatic one out of the bunch of social misfits and will hunt down any group of men that is willing/unlucky enough to catch her gaze.  Once in her grasp she will then start using phrases like “honey” and “sweetie” and ask you to help her cross of her  ugly friend’s To-do list to complete before this embarrassment of a night is over.   When you choose to not participate she will most commonly reciprocate with, “Whatever you’re obviously gay” or something along the lines of “You’re not even that good looking anyways.”  When you encounter this, simply smile, walk away, and take solace in the fact that the only thing that you could have done to shut her up at that point, would be to have thrown a cheeseburger at her. 

Lame Bridal Parties
Lame Bridal parties are the absolute worst because my heart goes out to the bride-to-be.  This is supposed to be her night.  One crazy bat shit finale to the world of lasciviousness and ridiculousness in terms of lewd “single-person” behaviour.  Typically a good night would be filled with the usual accruements of gigantic oversized penises to drink out of, an inflatable man, various condoms, games, male strippers, pole dancing lessons, funny matching outfits,  body shots, spa treatments, awesome food, and copious amounts of alcohol.     

In an ideal world, this would take place, and High School Musical would have a pregnant chick doing a falsetto solo that would be named “My Baby’s Daddy” on the back of the DVD.  The reality however is that sometimes women choose their lame ass friend to plan their staggette, and typically their friends fall short…and there are no pregnant chicks on High School Musical.

By falling short, I don’t mean not planning anything at all, I mean not following through on anything fun.  Anybody can organize a bunch of retards together, it’s easy.  (Editor’s note: Just look at the Special Olympics {Editor Note within Editor’s note: I am DEFINITELY going to hell for that one}).  What is difficult, is bringing those people together to have the time of bride-to-be’s life, and at the same time making the bride feeling loved, special and maintaining an ounce of dignity.  Keep in mind the dignity thing is not mandatory. 

When I see lame parties I truly try my best to see if I can make them go crazy and have fun, but on occasion they ruin your night too, so don’t let that happen.

Lame & Ugly Bridal Parties:
This is the worst of the worst.    With the Ugly Bridal Party you can still count on the colourful dynamics of alcohol and desperation to make you somewhat enjoy being sandwiched between two girls you wouldn’t accept as friends on Facebook.  With the Lame Bridal Party, you can try to get the hotter girls more sauced up and, if lucky, bring out the whore within. 

The Lame AND Ugly Bridal Party is a lost cause.  It’s like a fat chick with no tits, like a gay dude with no style, or me trying to lose a Most Sexy Nano competition.  It’s just not going to happen.   

This painful combination really has nothing going for it.  The girls are sour to start with, they hate being at the bar, and the only thing that I can think of that brings them there is because the bride is bored and it’s the thing to do. 

My recommendation à  Leave the bar.

Ok that’s all I have in me.  I’m back.

-Nano

I know I haven?t updated the site as much as I would have liked to these past few months but I?ve had some personal stuff I had to attend to. That aside, I hope you?re ready for a whole new raw summer of Nano-esque material aimed to inform, inflame, insane, arouse and humour (I couldn?t think of another ?i?) you.

Like lesbians and gay men, the cobra and the mongoose, Ali and Fraser, the astonishing amounts of money I?m supposed to inherit in Nigeria, and the whole, ?I will not have sex with you? vibe I?ve been getting from women, the world and I are constantly in battle. Not getting any action for a few weeks makes one realize something ? namely that you haven?t gotten any action in a few weeks. It also makes one take notice of small things that would otherwise roll off your shoulder, but now irk you just enough to make you say something.

Well friends, lucky for you my sexy eyes and boyish good looks haven?t been cutting the mustard as of late, and I?ve been irked.

This so called irk in question is an online petition to change the name of YVR ? Vancouver International Airport to Terry Fox International Airport. There are several things that are incredibly stupid with this but I?ll outline the arguments made for it, then why I think this is dumb.

The basic and only real argument is that Montreal has Pierre Elliot Trudeau Airport, and Toronto has Lester B. Pearson Airport, so Vancouver should follow suit and rename ours to Terry Fox International.

Now before I begin let me start off by saying that I have NOTHING, absolutely NOTHING bad to say about Terry Fox. I think he was an incredible human being, an amazing inspiration, and an unbelievable Canadian, but naming an airport after him is a bit much.

In respect to Pearson & Trudeau, both were incredibly influential and internationally known Prime Ministers of Canada, both put Canada on the map through their famous, and sometimes controversial politics, and each had an amazing lasting legacy that is with us to this day; Trudeau getting Canada?s Charter of Rights past as a constitutional amendment (not a statute, that was Diefenbaker) and getting Canada parliamentary sovereignty from the English (basically we were our own country now), and Pearson for creating a little thing called the UN Peace Keeping Forces and winning an obscure & little known award known as the Nobel Peace Prize. Also, being a head of state automatically grants one the privilege of having a shitload of things named after them. Hell, even the third Vice President of the United State, Aaron Burr, has a shitload of things named after him and he tried to secede from the US!!!

If naming were the issue, then I don?t think Terry Fox supporters are all that underserviced. I mean the dude has a school, a day, several scholarships and a RUN named after him. Yes, a whole RUN! That puts him right up there with the Million Man March and the Pride Parade. How many parades/runs do you know of are for politicians? I mean shit, the only thing Terry Fox doesn?t named after him is the cancer that killed him (that honour belongs to Osteosarcoma).

I?m all for giving inspirational national heroes their dues, but we can?t give out these types of naming honours like Thai Lady Boys give out genital herpes. Oh, and Vancouver International is already named after an amazing figure in Canadian History by default…Captain George Vancouver, the patron namesake of the city itself!

I think the real issue however, isn?t even the request to change the name to Terry Fox International Airport, but more so the medium used to do so ? an online petition.

Outside of high-school politics, petitions honestly don?t do shit. (I?m looking at you Society to see Jennifer Love-Hewitt?s Tits). Think about it, how many petitions in the history of you signing your name on one have you EVER seen come to fruition. The answer is probably never and right about now you?re thinking, ?Damn…he?s right? or ?Damn…Nano is one helluva sexual dynamo? either way you?re correct.

Traditionally petitions, in the political sense, are used to express public opinion or requests on a topic. The problem being that this can be conveyed in many more adequate and less time-dependent ways like attending a public forum, or meeting with your MLA directly.

I remember when I was 16 and I was visiting my Nation?s capital in Ottawa. It was the summer and the Senate was on a break and I ran into a Canadian Senator who happened to be walking around Parliament Buildings. We were in a tour group, but I scuttled off and went to talk to him. We joked around for a bit and I asked him bluntly what happens when a petition signed with a 100,000 people?s addresses comes to parliament on a really tough subject that probably won?t pass. He replied, ?well then there?s probably going to be about 100,000 letters being mailed out saying sorry.? I thought that shit was hilarious at the time, and it?s even funnier now.

Another reason why they don?t work is that the petition is usually started by some self-righteous cunt snake who thinks they can make a difference by wasting a lot of people?s time with some paper. I?m not saying that you shouldn?t have a voice in your local politics or that you shouldn?t try to make a difference, all I?m saying is that you should choose your battles and your techniques wisely because if you don?t even less people are going to care than when you started.

And I?m spent.

-Nano

Moses & I

Contrary to popular belief, I really don?t know everything.� In fact many things confuse me like Clay Aiken?s sexuality, why some guys at my gym choose to shave in the nude, and what bathrooms trannies pick when they need to go (I think men?s for #2, and women?s for #1, but that?s just my humble opinion).�

One thing I am dead certain of is that Moses is one of my closest friends and he is truly like a brother to me.� Keep in mind I mean brother as in related, not as in ?brotha? as in a black guy, however he is black so I guess that applies as well.�� Moses and I have been through a lot together, he was one of the first people I met at UBC, we briefly dated the same girl, and we both share a passionate love for the game of dominos and dancehall.� Moses and I are also a lot alike in other ways he is tall, muscular, athletic and black, I am short, enjoy walking, and white-ish.� 99% of women Moses meets want him, 99% of women I meet tell me that ?they don?t do that sort of thing.?� Moses has had women actually say to him, ?When are you going to take me home and fuck me?? I have had women actually say to me, ?I really like you just as a friend.?��� As you can see the similarities are uncanny.Something I can definitely say about Moses is that he is undyingly loyal and would give you the shirt off his back (he actually did one time and it ended up with chicks doing shots off his abs.� I?m not really sure how that story ends as I passed out in my room).� Moses is also quite the ladies man, by no means is he a player of any sorts, but rather a consummate gentleman who just happens to be very seductive with high class women.� I mean let?s look at this Nubian God for a minute strictly statistically speaking:-6?0? of Chocolate
-190lbs of lean muscle mass with roughly 3-4% body fat
-Chiselled good looks
-Runs a sub-12 second 100m , and is a track star (the average person runs a 15s �100m ? that means he could give you a head start, add hurdles, and be blind folded and he?s still probably be faster than you, while smoking)
-Holds a University degree from UBC, and is currently completing a Chiropractic doctoral program…Yeah that?s right he?s going to be a doctor.
-Is friends with me
-And YES, it?s that big, and no despite the tone of this introduction I am NOT gay. (Not that there?s anything wrong with that)

Now I sat down with Moses not too long ago and we had a long discussion about life and growing up and I thought I?d share that interview with my loyal readers for your pleasure.

N:� So when did you first realize you were black?

M: �Well my mother and grandmother told me I was different and ‘white’ people would always see me differently.� They said I stepped to the plate with two strikes against me already.� Interestingly enough, it wasn’t until about 3rd or 4th grade that I realized that other light-skinned minorities weren’t white.� I actually thought Natives, Asians, and Mexicans were all under the label my mom deemed as ‘white’�(Funny, because in Vancouver with Asians being the majority, maybe I wasn’t so far off.)

N: Do you know who your father is?

M:� I know his name, and am pretty sure he lives in Toronto, but it pretty much ends there.

N: How many brothers and sisters do you have?

M: An older brother (27), and two younger sisters (22, 7).

N: Same Father?

M: Nope.� The youngest has a different babydaddy (Yes, “babydaddy” can be viewed as one word.)

N: What about baby?s mama?

M: No that?s always two words.

N: Ok, Same Mother?

M:� Yes.� Mothers do all the parenting in black families.

N:� Now this may seem like a silly question, but have you ever grown an afro?� If so how large?

M:� Of course.� After I cut my 10″ dreadlocks in grade 11, I started rocking the cornrow/afro duo for a good 3 or 4 years.� What most white people don’t know is that while white people braid their hair to make it curlier, black people’s hair becomes longer and straighter coming out of cornrows, thus facilitating afro volume.� At it’s peak, the ‘fro probably had a 4″ radius.
�
As an aside, when I had my dreadlocks, I washed my hair every fucking day you nappy-ass white hippies. [Consult urbandictionary.com here for the definition of “nappy”]

N: Have you ever purchased Afroshine (pronounced afro-sheen)?

M:� I never actually purchased Afroshine brand afro product, but the amount of black specific hair products in my house growing up is enough to make your head spin.� You’d be shocked at how many�hair products are customized for black hair.

N:� Growing up black in Saskatchewan, what kind of pressures did you face?

M: Understand that growing up in Saskatoon in a city of 200,000, I knew the ONLY 5 or 6 other�black families in the city.� So I was the kind of minority you couldn’t even imagine.� Unlike the US, where there�are at least�black communities, chances were every time a white person saw me, I was their first non-TV black man sighting.� As such,�my god-given athletic prowess allowed me to exceed white stereotypes as I dominated pretty much every non ice-based sport I tried growing up. [Editors note ? it also probably got you really watched by Korean corner-store owners]

N: How did you keep yourself out of crime and drugs while you were in your youth?

M: Given that my�family is from the Caribbean, ganja [Editors note: that?s weed for all you white, non-hippy folk] could be spotted in my home in the way rye and coke would be seen in a white house.� Also, my brother was arrested and served a prison sentence for trafficking while I was just starting undergrad.� By stroke of luck, I managed to hang out with enough [Editors note: White] people who weren’t into such things and I’m proud to say that I’ve never smoked weed in my life (Yes, there ARE black�people who don’t smoke up).� General athletics kept me out of trouble.

N: While at University what were some of your interests?

M: Being the stereotypical black male, I naturally found myself in Human Kinetics as an area of study.� I also walked on to the track team in my first season of undergrad.

N: Did you ever see/meet anybody who came close to your level of smoothness/female attraction in terms of mannerisms and overall ?game??

M: Well understand that those are two very distict questions my friend.� As far as game is concerned, certain aspects of game can be taught.� In that regard, the author of this website has probably more pure game than anyone I’ve ever met.� As far as female attraction is concerned, my baby soft skin and chisled features are truly uncomparable.� And given the fact that I haven’t done a situp in months, yet have a six-pack that would have Usher quiverring in his Louis Vuitton sneakers,� as far as pure good looks are concerned, I have yet to meet someone with as much natural�midnight beauty as myself. [Editors note: if my girlfriend is reading this, we both know I have no game, he?s just being flattering ]

N: When you watch Sunny D commercials are you offended that the black kid always looks like he wants the ?Purple stuff??

M: Absolutely not,�It’s a statement of reality.� 95% of the beverages I drank as I child came in powder form.� We didn’t have a lot of ‘purple drink’ growing up, but Kool-Aid and powdered iced tea were in heavy rotation.

N: Having two biblical names in your name may pose quite the challenge for the average man, how has this hindered/assisted in picking up catholic white girls? M: Well it’s funny, because my name is actually at it’s root a Jewish name, my older brother has a Muslim name, and my sister has a Catholic name.� So I’ll answer what you’re all thinking: Yes, black women are God fearing.� Given that Canadian women aren’t used to seeing black men [Editors note: at least ones not in jail, the NBA, or your local CFL team], yet alone ones with exotic names, I’ll never forget the time I introduced myself to a girl and the bar as Moses and she replied “Is that your real name?� or your bar name?”� Regardless, by the end of the night she was screaming it. [Editors note: I can confirm this story]
�
But as far as catholic white girls are concerned, I think they feel associating with someone with such a kick-ass name brings them closer to God.� Which I’ve been known to do from time to time.

N: What?s hotter right now Watermelon & chicken fried Chicken, or Tuna Casserole?

M: Watermelon and fried chicken hands down.� I can walk down to any grocery store and find ready to eat ‘melon and chick’n, but tuna casserole takes time and effort.� That, and watermelon is just fucking delicious.

N: What the fuck is soul food?

M: Well if soul music = black music, then soul food = black food.� Such would be dishes traditionally made by Caribbean or Southern US black people.� Such classics include cornbread, potato salad, fried chicken, hot sauce�and collard greens to name a few.

N: Hot sauce is a dish?

M: Definitely.

N:� Do you know anybody named Ray Ray, Big Slim, Jamal, or anyone with the name ending suffix of ?iequa, -eesha, -shawn, or ?ante?

M:� No, no, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.� Going to school in Texas, in my class alone, I’ve come across a Nashawna, Talitha, Trashondra, Shonniste (That’s a male) and an Anneisha

N: Why is Funkmaster Flex still employed? How did he get a car deal?

M:� No comment.

N: I?ve heard black fathers don?t like their daughters dating Mexicans. Why is that?

M: �Because as far as being black or Mexican is concerned, that’s the bottom of the North American discrimination food chain.� Why would you VOLUNTARILY handicap yourself even more?� It’d by like wearing lead shoes to race Donovan Bailey: You’re already playing from behind. [Awesomely racist Editors note: - further research would show that black fathers are worried their grand kids would grow up to lazy to steal…zing!]

N:� Have you ever been attracted to a big white girl? Why is this a common misconception?

M: Absofuckinglutely not.� I find all manner of fat girl repulsive.� I want a flat stomach, and a tight ass you can bounce a quarter off of.� A brilliant friend of mine has hypothesized that black men go after fat girls because it increases the probability of them actually getting laid, because sometimes small girls can’t handle such massive Johnsons. [Editor?s note: yeah that was me]

N: Is THE legend true? Has it ever caused you problems?

M:� Yes.� I remember in elementary school once measuring my penis, and because my brother said his measurement was around the same size that we were about average.� Then the magical thing called the internet became more popular, and I was getting daily spam mail promising a “monster 8″ cock” as if for some reason I’d want to go down in size.
�
But actually, on more than one occasion I’ve been met with such comments as “Guess the rumors are true”, “Holy shit, it’s fuckin massive” and the all too common “No way can I fit THAT inside of THIS”, in numerous female encounters.� I don’t care what you say, sometimes a miracle tongue and a shitload of lube still isn’t enough.

N: No comment.� What is a fond memory of the most racist moment (not counting this interview) you have experienced in your life?

M: Well there is what some people refer to as “positive racism” which is just as bad and way more frequent than the negative counterpart, where I’m expected to be able to dunk a basketball (which I can, despite being only 6′0″), have a massive penis (which I do), and�run fast (which my scholarships would dictate, I do well).
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Conversely, as mentioned earlier, I’ve never done an illicit drug in my life, have never been to jail (though in the back of a police�car), and don’t get into fights.� People seem to expect that I do/have done all of the above.

N: Do you have a natural aversion to getting on boats? If so, why?

M: I have nothing against boats, but I stumbled across an interesting stat the other day.� 60% of white children can swim, as compared to only 30% of their black and Hispanic counterparts.� There’s a reason you never see any black swimmers or triathletes: It’s hard to float when you have 8% or less body fat, which most moderately athletic black males do automatically, whereas white people do 1000’s of sit-ups and have nothing to show for it.

N:� Please rank the following from most important to least important: white girls, Asian girls, Malt liquor, chicken, cornbread, corn rows,� Carrot Top, The Jive, Jazz Music, Crunk Juice, Oversized expensive neck jewellery, monogamy, paternity tests.

M:� In order, I will have to say White girls (blonde hair and blue or green eyes are a black man’s kryptonite), Asian girls (It’s nice to have someone a little submissive after such dominating female parents), Crunk juice (why party to gross beer, when you can get drunk to delicious fruity cocktails), chicken (it’s delicious), Monogamy (why be monogamous and make one person happy, when i can stay single and make all the girls happy), Bling (nothing says I’m not a poor idiot in the ghetto, than saying I’m a rich idiot that spends all their money on extravagant depreciating assets),Cornrows (because if we cant have someone braid elaborate patterns into our head for 6 hours,�how else are we going to show off?),�jazz (It’s classy, respectable, requires talent, and is the origin of basically all modern pop and hip-hop), Paternity tests (because traditionally, black men are assholes and no one should have to raise a kid alone), Cornbread and Malt liquor (I’m allergic to both, so near the bottom) and Jive and Carrot top (at the bottom, because they’re so white).

N: Are black guys just naturally better dancers/runners/athletes than white people? If so, why and in what sports? [Editor?s Note: Ok we already know that if black people knew how to sail boats and hunt with rifles, ski, gave a fuck about gymnastics, swim� and play hockey they would dominate that as well]

M: Yes.� Where in a white house you’re parents air guitared to Bryan Adams and the Big Bopper, in my house, we danced to reggae music and early ’80s rap music.� So by time I got to club age and you white folk were just learning how to dance, I already had an 18 year head start.� Also, while you were at violin lessons/piano lessons/your tutor/etc. I was outside.� Playing tag, football whatever, but I was outside running and jumping as hard and as fast as I could since I could walk.� So not only was I born a better athlete than you (white people), I also trained harder and longer than you did.
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I hope you learned a little bit about black people today.

N: Thank you Moses. buy cialisbuy cialisbuy levitrabuy levitrabuy propeciabuy propeciabuy somabuy somabuy levitrabuy cialisbuy propeciabuy levitrabuy somabuy cialisbuy propeciabuy levitrabuy somabuy cialisbuy levitrabuy propeciabuy soma

This is not really a write up, but more of a scenario that’s been really bothering me.  Given a world of equal freedoms, it is fair, obvious, and clear that many same-sex couples, specifically involving women, have children.

Now as a kid, Mother’s day has got to be:
A) Expensive
B) Annoying
C) Confusing to explain.

Think about it, you have to buy two gifts, figure out what both like, and continuously explain to people that your buying gifts for your mothers.  Oh and if that wasn’t enough, your moms get that holiday AND their anniversary together.  I’m all for lesbians, but shit man that’s gotta hurt the pocket book.

-Nano out. (I mean as in I’m done writing, not like I’m out of the closet, because I’m not gay.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that)