What's somewhat amusing is that, for days now, you still have your gay avatar (instead of the baby being deafened) presumably in the belief that you've come up with something (that might bother me)
So now you want Ali to be not just the main provider to The Nation Of Islam, you also want him to be gay?
He's dead - you'll never get to suck him off, see.
Besides, of all the members of all the Irish forums all rolled into one? I'm still the ONLY one of any of you who actually got to hang out with a world heavyweight boxing champion, because he loved my wit and sense of humour. And because I know all the right people in exactly the right places to make sure that when I took Lennox Lewis out for the night, we walked straight through any door with any number of punyers queuing up.
But - and this is a sizeable but.
I never at any time either treated him as a god (as you do with Muhammud Ali) nor did I presume he was gay when he approached me to ask me (in my painty work dungarees) to please take him somewhere more interesting then another glamour-puss opening party with all the same faces and arses present.
You place world negro champions on a pedestal.
I take them out on the town for the evening, and they're never bored either.
You think Ali your greatest life hero.
I call Lennox Lewis a mate, a buddy, and we're still in touch all these years later.
I say this not to boast or gloat over, I say it because it's true - you can only dream of even beginning to try to do all the things I've done with my life while you sat at home waiting for your dole cheque. You can call yourself all the nationalists, ethnic this, that or the other, civic what's its or anything else you can conjure up.
But you know this much: you had your shot at answering a simple question about your defined and apparently active ideals. But when asked how you personally manifest these beliefs, you log off the site and then fire up another ancient video of Ali battering some third rate bar buster so you can whack off to it. You love big black men. You want them to be gay. Like you. You're terrified of strong women. They frighten the shite out of you, which is why you fancy your wan from The Bangles, Catherine Hoffs, or whatever.
You're a nothing, a conduit for other people's thoughts.
I bet if the very guys you love so much and can't stop quoting ever got to meet you, they'd slap you around the ears and tell you to get off their tail. I know how they feel - you've been running around after me for three years plus, and still you haven't clocked the twat you've been made into.
If big black dig is your goal, why not emigrate to Nigeria?
That way you'll be closer to Muhammud, surrounded by miles of black sausage, all the water melon and chicken you can eat, and all the African sperm you can swallow.
James 'Jambo' Dawson - loves black boys in boxing trunks and padded gloves.