Political Crossfire Forums

I'm called lil bit, because that's what I was Christened. Not really. I was known as the lil bit, because I was the youngest in a large extended family for about two years and the name stuck. I grew to be 5'7" in my socks and tower over my small cousins, yet they still call me lil bit, which incidentally is pronounced little bit, only with glottal stops where the t's are, because I'm a cockney sparrer.

So now you know.

I'm Mo/Motivated. I just wanted to have "Mo" for my new name, but it said it was too short. I'm sick of being called "too short". I do just fine with my trusty, dusty step stool so Kiss my Butt.

I'll still call you Mo.

Win, Baby, you can call me anything you want. Day or Night.

The details of my life are quite inconsequential ... Very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize; he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament ... My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon ... luge lessons ... In the spring, we'd make meat helmets ... When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds — pretty standard, really. At the age of 12, I received my first scribe.