Thursday, April 16, 2009


Chinese boys. I see you. Hanging on to your Chinese girlfriends. I walk by an ATM today and there you are, your arm 'round the waist of your girlfriend while she's taking out money. Are you protecting her? You're inside a vestibule. You're the only ones in there. I think she's safe, guy. I turn my head and behind me, as we cross the street, there's another one of you with your arm 'round the waist of your girlfriend. I don't think she needs help crossing the street, guy. She's nineteen. Do you need support? I don't think so: You look healthy. Yo, I seen you latched on to your girlfriend like a knapsack as she's trying to walk, and she's trudging laboured 'cause she's got a 145-pound human attached to her back. She's dragging you. She don't look too pleased. And you? You look like a baby. You are abscess. You are The Weak. You are The Emasculated. That's wrong, guy. You are an almost-adult. In some cases, you are an adult. Take your arm off of her. Let her walk. Let her be.

...Chinese boys...

No comments: