hey pajeet, i know you're reading this. i was thinking about everything you've done to the board and i just wanted to let you know that, even though you've taken something beautiful and manipulated it into your own personal agenda while shitting out work a typical slav would call unprofessional, i'm not angry with you. because at the end of the day, when you leave for work, you step onto a indian street. you walk through indian neighborhoods and dodge indian bullets. you eat indian food and listen to indian music. you drive in an indian car while you drink indian tea. you live in a crumbling indian home decorated with cheap, indian furniture. you speak an unappealing dialect of hindi. you ogle repulsive indian women. your friends, family, coworkers, casual acquaintances and occasional rivals are all indian. the grease pooling in your armpits, knees and crotch is indian. your lazy, unfocused eyes are indian, your disgusting hair and bulbous upper torso only go by two descriptors, "indian" and "poo" you will never live this down. you will never know what it means to be from a first world nation. you will forever live in fear of a sinkhole opening up below you, or a sihk's machete slicing through your swollen, distended neck. perhaps a man squatting on his bajaj will jump the dilapidated sidewalk in his rusted out bike and crush you against the cheap indian brickface. perhaps your end will come another way, but it will be indian. because time will pass. the west will outlive you. you will be left with nothing except your jealousy, ruination and your filthy, parasite infested indian blood.
United States