"I think the B-O-b (yaf you know him) would surprise and astound with his mad flip-fleece-and flyin' skillz.  Live Prez (as he's called) still retains the soul of the black man, despite his oratorial diction. 

Jonny Stew, on the other hand, is funny. But he aint no rapper. Freestyle, hairstyle... any style. Don't get me wrong, I'd totally do him. But he aint no rapper."
A handful of years after being born in Los Angeles, CA, Byron Go made his young mother very proud by testing into LA's elite, gifted learning program. Byron tells me this fact quietly, as if he's confessing to a fart (I know this because he did it earlier in the interview.) Despite his hushed tone, a presumably unnatural blonde at the table behind ours hears Byron and stops texting upon her cell-phone. She leans towards us, shrieking, "Oh my gawd! I grew up in LA." For a moment, it sounds as if this is a good thing. Then she continues, "...And YOU were one of THOSE kids?" Still looking at me, Byron lets her question linger. Slowly he turns to her, "Yes. I was. Do I know you?"

Without answering, the girl stands, dropping her phone into her purse. Her friend, also blonde, looks at us over her latte. The friend also stands. With pursed lips she cools her cinnamon flecked foam.

Things get a little creepy as both girls continue to stand there, glaring at Byron. With a roll of his eyes, Byron turns back towards me. "Dude, I'm sorry. People from that town..." Before he can finish his sentence, hot latte slaps against the back of his head, cascading down the front of his jacket. We both jump up, cinnamon flecked foam falling upon Byron's shoes. We turn around, but the girls are gone. Instead, a big, shaggy dude in a bright orange vest and a baseball cap stands in their place. The drips of latte lead right to him. "I'm sorry, fellas." The big fella stammers, "They were chicks. And they were blonde."
Byron Go has been a resident of Seattle, WA for five solid years. Three lattes have have been thrown in his direction since his arrival.
Byron writes a regular column, "Words that Go," for Stoodio 32. He also works as a rep and the "Sponsorship Overlord" for Gin Optics (Yes. it DOES say that on his business card.)

Otherwise, he climbs rocks, rides bicycles and hangs out at his local park, making circus animals out of colorful balloons.
When asked, "Why?" Byron responds, "Well. Obviously it's because flat feet have kept me out of the military and I'm still waiting for The Real World to return to Seattle."

We have no idea what that means. But, before we could dwell, Byron made a giraffe out of a balloon and all seemed right in the world.