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Nana on One America News

satanssockpuppet

satanssockpuppet

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Barnaby Jones said:
It's not a matter of being cancelled. He completely lost relevancy. Nobody but us weird autistic losers give a shit about former radio personalities anymore, and that's just to laugh at them for the wrong reasons.
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Nana likes to fantasize about being an un-censorable, tell-it-like-it-is conservative firebrand, lobbing truth grenades at the libtard elite. Thing is though, he only does that on Twitter, under various gay Twitter handles, each one gayer than the last. On his actual show, though, he's a swishy, effeminate, mincing, hooting closet bottom queen who dresses like he's trying to sneak into a local middle school. His "show" mostly consists of F-list comedians endlessly jabbering about one another and the various faggotized podcasts they do. No real celebrity will go anywhere near him and he's too cowardly to embrace his toxicity.
 
WhereWeAt

WhereWeAt

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Barnaby Jones said:
It's not a matter of being cancelled. He completely lost relevancy. Nobody but us weird autistic losers give a shit about former radio personalities anymore, and that's just to laugh at them for the wrong reasons.
Click to expand...

There are guys surrounded by rusting Buicks with rotten teeth who are also uncancellable. Houseplants are uncancellable. He's bragging about already losing it all.
 
satanssockpuppet

satanssockpuppet

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"Water delivery for A. Espresso."

Andy opened his apartment door. A large African-American man wearing a water delivery company uniform stood there. "Oh, my" blushed a flustered Andy. "Um, yeah, right over here". Andy excitedly watched as the burly young black man hoisted the heavy water bottles and carried them to the bubbler. Andy stood non-confrontationally, with his hands daintily clasped behind his back like a coquettish schoolgirl. "Is there anything I can get you?" he pitifully lisped.

"Naw I'm good, thanks Mr. Espresso. You have a nice day" said the colored fella.

"You too, and thank you!" Andy insincerely squealed, his voice cracking like Peter Brady. Andy closed the door, and spun angrily on his heels in a womanly fashion. "Motherfucking n****** rot bung cunt!" Andy girlishly hissed. "That n**** is lucky I'm a legal gun owner. They're not people" he said, spitting on his own floor for emphasis. "I was ready to throw down if that animal tried anything". Andy reached for his ever-present phone. "You'd better believe I'm tweeting about THIS!" he emphatically screeched.

"YOU CAN'T ESCAPE N******, WHICH IS WHY I AM MOVING TO THE SOUTH. FUCKING ROT BUNG! COCK!" he tweeted. "THEY AREN'T PEOPLE, I WOULD HAVE MURDERED HIM IF BIDEN LET ME HAVE MY GUNS!" he tweeted again, which was followed by "ANDY ESPRESSO NEVER BACKS DOWN FROM A CONFRONTATION, I WOULD LOVE TO KILL SOME N******!". Andy collapsed on the outer shirt-covered sofa, almost as if he'd been physically satiated. "Whew! Looks like you're in for another long night, Mr. Espresso" he said, as he finished beer number eight.
 
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