American Bull

I've had enough of American bullshit as of yet. It doesn't do much that i read such grossly immature comments about the Chinese gymnasts by the Americans.

They've called them names, slandering them simply on the basis of wearing colorful barettes in their hair, having blue eyeshadow and glitter on their foreheads. Oh. And of course they said that even an 8 year old boy (some said 2 year old!) would have bigger breasts than these girls. Of course they wouldn't let go of the fact that these girls are being accused of being underaged too, calling them liars and cheaters.

Well i guess it is inborn in Americans to be such fucked up bastards. The only plausible reason why American 2/8 year old boys have larger boobs(or moobs) than these girls who are more than twice their age is that they plain FREAKING OBESE. Period. What more with an obese nation with their brains deep-fried in McDonald's oil. And anyone with at least some intellect would understand that Asian bodies are just different from those white skins.

The girls for goodness sake have no part in this whole affair. And as they have already said, that the communist regime still dominates, can the girls do anything if the officials deicide to falsify their ages? Aren't they helpless? I'm pretty sure that the girls have no say whether they can refuse the blue eyeshadow and what not. Was it by choice that they have to look so garish on WORLDWIDE TV? They ARE HELPLESS aren't they?

So why the fuck are they being such racists and morons? I think they should just go fuck themselves.

(I know i'm being very irrational and critical here, but the Americans just get my goat. So much for the 'superior race' and skin color.)

Poem written by an African boy, nominated best poem by UN in '06. Just listen to him:


When I born, I black
When I grow up, I black
When I go in Sun, I black
When I scared, I black
When I sick, I black
And when I die, I still black

And you white fellow

When you born, you pink
When you grow up, you white
When you go in sun, you red
When you cold, you blue
When you scared, you yellow
When you sick, you green
And when you die, you grey

And you calling me coloured?