Listening to reggae helped me survive the intense polar vortex that howled through the midwest. In fact, reggae has saved me from hep-c and AIDS. Reggae prevented me from dressing up as a K.K.K. member and black-face in the ’80s. Reggae is powerful.
Move over Pinocchio, you are no longer the most popular liar.
It is obvious to anyone who has ears that this man is a scumbag liar. His story is too rehearsed; all the inflections are in all the wrong places. Speaking of wrong places, his roving eyes dart everywhere, as if seeking for an appropriate answer, and by answer, I mean mistruth. The more details he layers into his webbed tale, there is an apparent understanding that he is so stupid that he has forgotten what he said minutes before.
It is almost ironic that in North Korea, this is the symbol for I love you, man.
Her dying words were as indignant as expected. They were, “Get your fucking hands off me you God damn chinks.” Her misguided racism was aimed at three black men who tried to help her after she was struck hard by a bus. Technically, she should have been dead before she could speak her final words, but that’s how Amanda Sykes rolled. She always got the last word.
Bert [left], a muppet, in happier times, stoned and naïve.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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