SA: I see. You hope that an earthquake in Mogadishu will bring Somalia similar global aid as that given to the Port-au-Prince area. Isn't that a little counter-productive? The money going into Haiti is being used to repair the millions and millions of dollars worth of damage the earthquake did.
Sharmarke: Okay, let's be getting real. Haiti was a barrel of dog turds before the earthquake. No slap in the manhood to the people of Haiti intended -
Ahmed: Yes, no offense. Takes one to know of one, as you Westerns say, right?
Sharmarke: Yeah! But serious, we are all knowing that Haiti had been sucking the big thick one for a long, long time and no one was giving two shits. All of sudden they get a few cities knocked over and hello - Ms. Angelina Jolie is there hugging people!
Ahmed: We very much want to meet Angelina Jolie too!
Sharmarke: Oh... her breasts. Very excellent. Very big.
Ahmed: Allah gives us many wonders! And you know... I am liking Mr. Brad Pitt too. A lot of people are hating Meet Joe Black, but I have seen it many times.
Sharmarke: I am thinking Ms. Jolie's breasts feel really good to squeeze and jiggle in my hands.
SA: I feel like we're straying from the topic, gentlemen.
Sharmarke: Right, yes. Haiti. We can not help but feeling that Allah has turned away from us. Why is Haiti deserving of the glorious earthquake?
Ahmed: As shittyhole as Haiti was - and please do not understand me wrong, they were quite bad - we are far, far more shittyhole! Somalia ranked number one on the Failed State Index two years in row. Two years in row!
Sharmarke: Number one, baby!
Ahmed: Haiti is number twelve.
Sharmarke: They do not give out the medal awards for twelfth place.
Ahmed: Twelve. Haiti just was barely scoring higher than Kenya and Ethiopia, who are our brother nations. We are sharing borders with them, and you trusting me, we are much awfuller place to live. Way shittier.
Hows about you, me, and five uncomfortable minutes in my basement apartment next to the dusty Christmas tree that's still up from my last visit with my estranged children.
The Upper Kitchen Cabinet Where Your Roommate Keeps His Food: You’ll 'need the footstool' to reach your roommate’s 'fine selection' of 'stale cereal,' but he'll never notice if 'only a little is missing from each box.' Feel less guilty by reminding yourself that Jeff 'acts weird around your girlfriend,' and always 'asks about her.' What a 'creep.'
This ain't your daddy's globe...! .... or is it?!
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