We used to Friday Fun around here where’d we wax poetically about random non-sensically detailed and intricuate musings of darker breed. If that sentence makes any sense to you…well, you’re full of sh*t and probably think that Matrix: Reloaded made sense.

Yes, I just called you a lie.

Anyway, I, Panama Dontavious Jackson, have some things to get off my chest so I figure that I’d confess a few things to reach a sort of catharsis of the spirit. Some of these confessions will be deep, dark, and dank. Hmm, first confession, I’m not fully sure what “dank” means but I’m most assuredly sure I don’t want to be anywhere that is dank. It sounds like what I imagine Grace Jones is like in the morning.

Dank.

So, like Usher…these are my confessions…

For the longest time, I didn’t know what the original white meat was. I mean I knew that pork was the other white meat, but I wasn’t sure what the other other white meat was. In 2006, I was informed that it was chicken. I have just disappointed the Black community in ways no other man has done in years. It hasn’t been this bad since the Great Watermelon Fiasco of 1994.

Speaking of chicken. Le sigh.

I do not like chicken with bones in it. I’m a breast man in more ways than one. It just tastes different to me or something. When I was little, I used to take the wings and hid them behind a bookcase in my house and pretend I ate the chicken. Now this would have brilliant except for the fact that NOBODY EVER SAW BONES ON MY PLATE. Yeah, I was a bit shortsighted as a mere tyke.

I once told a homeless man that I wanted to be just like him when I grow up. *deep sigh* So, I was walking down the street and this homeless guy asked me for some money. Being the medium-sized baller that I am, I handed him 2 bucks and he said to me, “my man, you’re looking cool, I’m trying to be like you when I grow up.” Being the genius and condescending f*ck I apparently am, I replied with, “no, I’m trying to be like YOU when I group.” He looked at me like, well like a condescending f*ck at which point I realized what I’d said and I put my head down in shame and walked away.

One of my boys from high school has one arm, and I didn’t notice it for 2 whole years. Yes, pencil in me for the most oblivious man of the millenium award for $2,000 please, Alex. I actually got into an argument with one of my other boys about this because I swore Mike had two arms. I was like, that ninja wears jerseys and everything (he never did). After that argument, I saw him and lo and behold, The Fugitive did only have one arm. Bonus: Once we were cleaning my boys house (me, The Fugitive, and my boy Tray) and Tray and Mike got into an argument because The Fugitive said he could do anything we could do better. My boy Tray…told The Fugitive to clap.

Game. Set. Match.

I am afraid of Star Jones. She came to my club once and I was tasked with serving her and her table and I initially refused because I was afraid to look her in the eye. I’m dead serious.

I religiously watch America’s Next Top Model, 90210, and pretty much every other questionable television program you can imagine. You name it, I’m sure I watch it. Not sure why but I’m drawn to dramatic television. And shows with skinny white girls, high school white kids, and anything involving Italian weddings is sure to drum up the non-sense.

I once tried to smoke some incense, figure that since no Mary Jane was present, it’s possible that incense will give you a similar buzz. I was wrong. I got sick. Oh you want to know how? Yeah, me and my boy just crumbled it up and rolled it up, lit it up, smoked it up, inhaled, exhaled. I walked around smelling like potpourri for a week. That? Very dumb. By the way, I don’t actually smoke…anything. And never have.

I’ve never seen Jurassic Park. For real.

Anyway, those are a few confessions from yours truly.

My good friends here at VSB, I’ve shared because I care. Won’t you share?

Purge yourself.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka TANGLE JIG P aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL, HE A 3