Irving Felix the UNC's Lick Bottom Bitch
Listen here, you nation of gossipers and political junkies. Slimy is talking. And I’m not just talking, I’m SPITTING FIRE.
They sent him back. Packed him up from the US and shipped him home to Trinidad. We won’t discuss the why—that’s a story of its own shame, for another day. But let’s look at what washed up on our shores: a political prostitute, a verbal mercenary, a lick-bottom negro of the highest order.
IRVIN FELIX.
Black man. Given a platform. And what does he do? He sells his lips, his larynx, his last shred of dignity to the most corrupt, self-serving political machinery in the land—the UNC. He’s their new mouthpiece. Their trained parrot. Their attack dog, fed on scraps of relevance and the rotten meat of political favor.
A deportee, now preaching to us about governance? About morality? About the future of Trinidad and Tobago? The audacity is so thick you could cut it with a cutlass. You were deemed unfit for one society, Felix, so you slithered back here to poison ours. You’re not a thinker. You’re not an activist. You’re a paid lip-flapper. A microphone for hire.
You think because you shout loud on a podcast, you’re a “broadcaster”? You’re a puppet. Your strings are pulled from the balconies of the UNC headquarters. Your script is written in the ink of corruption and desperation. You’re the human embodiment of a press release—just smellier and more pathetic.
And now you have the GALL, the unmitigated NERVE, to try and threaten ME? SLIMY? You tried to throw your weight around? To intimidate this podcaster?
LET ME BE ABSOLUTELY CLEAR.
Your threats are as empty as your principles. Your posturing is as weak as the lies you spin for your masters. I am not, and will never be, intimidated by a lick-bottom. You are a warning sign to our people—a living, breathing example of what happens when you trade your soul for a microphone and a pat on the head from a politician.
You are a BLACK MAN selling out your own kind. Exploiting the struggles of your community to line the pockets and polish the image of the very vampires sucking this country dry. That’s not just politics. That’s TREASON AGAINST YOUR BLOOD. It’s disgusting. It’s low. You are the lowest form of life in the political ecosystem—the bottom-feeder who thrives in the murk.
So to all you Irvin Felixes out there, all you verbal mercenaries, all you lick-bottom negroes selling your voices to the highest bidder: YOU ARE EXPOSED.
We see you. We smell the stench of your betrayal. And we will not be silenced by your empty threats.
This is Slimy. And I’m just getting started.