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Tag search results for: "acronyms can mislead"
Foreword: Though I try to be original with my Ironic prose this one is completely stolen.
As the neophyte walked in to the innocuous meeting room he wondered what he got himself into. Various images adorned the wall. Tupac Shakur circa 1992, Mohammed Ali in Zaire, Kareem Abdul Jabaar, and many other fixtures of African culture. Over on a counter were bottles of Alize, Remy Martin, and assorted high class liqueurs. Since this was California, to the left of that was Fransisco, their blunt roller. 'Hitting' on their system was "Aint Nothing But A G Thang".
Strait out of 1995 Gardena, Carson, or even Hawthorne.
As soon as he could take it all in 'it' began.
A voice spoke.
"A'ight, y'all listen up. You know what time is it? As our brothers have since 1985 it time, y'all niggas shut the fuck up, time for initiation."
The man speaking they called Cephus X, he was the leader of this particular lodge of The Venerable Transnubian Society.
Cephus X, spoke again.
Come forward our newest member.
"What yo name is?
"Leif Bumnqvist", answered The Neophyte.
"And, my nigga, do you like that name?"
"NO!"
"What name do you want, my nigga?"
"Tone Loki"
"A'ight, A'ight. That what you is now?"
"Yes"
"I present to y'all Tone Loki. Now bump that shit."
A tone pitched voice comes on, "California Love..."
The gentlemen and their social club were a peculiar lot. As they would say, they were born that way. They didn't fit their environment and this outlet was the unleashing of an inner person they all knew they REALLY were. Among their contemporaries they could kick back and truly enjoy what it meant to be all about T.V.T.S. (The Venerable Transnubian Society). In an instant Evansville, Indiana became 8-Mile. Morphed from the caged them into this vibrant player in the field of "Mac Daddy".
Like minds indeed.
As the neophyte walked in to the innocuous meeting room he wondered what he got himself into. Various images adorned the wall. Tupac Shakur circa 1992, Mohammed Ali in Zaire, Kareem Abdul Jabaar, and many other fixtures of African culture. Over on a counter were bottles of Alize, Remy Martin, and assorted high class liqueurs. Since this was California, to the left of that was Fransisco, their blunt roller. 'Hitting' on their system was "Aint Nothing But A G Thang".
Strait out of 1995 Gardena, Carson, or even Hawthorne.
As soon as he could take it all in 'it' began.
A voice spoke.
"A'ight, y'all listen up. You know what time is it? As our brothers have since 1985 it time, y'all niggas shut the fuck up, time for initiation."
The man speaking they called Cephus X, he was the leader of this particular lodge of The Venerable Transnubian Society.
Cephus X, spoke again.
Come forward our newest member.
"What yo name is?
"Leif Bumnqvist", answered The Neophyte.
"And, my nigga, do you like that name?"
"NO!"
"What name do you want, my nigga?"
"Tone Loki"
"A'ight, A'ight. That what you is now?"
"Yes"
"Naw, say that shit right. Like you my transnubian nigga."
"Let's crack it"
"I present to y'all Tone Loki. Now bump that shit."
A tone pitched voice comes on, "California Love..."
The gentlemen and their social club were a peculiar lot. As they would say, they were born that way. They didn't fit their environment and this outlet was the unleashing of an inner person they all knew they REALLY were. Among their contemporaries they could kick back and truly enjoy what it meant to be all about T.V.T.S. (The Venerable Transnubian Society). In an instant Evansville, Indiana became 8-Mile. Morphed from the caged them into this vibrant player in the field of "Mac Daddy".
Like minds indeed.
