May 2012

Adam Yauch (MCA) of Beastie Boys fame, died this morning. He had been fighting cancer for the past 3 years. He was a big activist for the Tibetan Freedom Movement, and a friend of the Dalai Lama. He was 47 years old.
R.I.P. Adam. You will be missed by many friends and fans alike.


    This is something I just wrote, so I didn’t beat the hell out of my ex wife’s boyfriend. He started talking trash to my son while I was in the bathroom and thought I couldn’t hear. If talking about hurting someone and using lots of cuss words offends you, then don’t read the following piece. And if the authorities ever have reason to read this, it is not a threat against him… even if you have found his head in a ditch. 😉

You think you can push my sons around bitch?
Do what you want to the ex, she’s a witch.
But you dirty little prick, you touch my kids and you’ll die.
I’ll take you out back and make your momma cry.
Thinking I won’t do shit cuz I’m so quiet?!
It’s just that it’s not time for you die yet.
Can’t wrap your head around the shit I’m gonna do to you.
Tie you up and kill you slow, but first I’mma waste your family too!
Make you sit and watch that shit.
Listen to you cry, beggin me to quit.
Are those real tears? What happened tough guy?
You really have the balls to ask me why?!
I’ve lost my whole goddamned life because of you!
What the fuck did you think I was gonna do?!
I was content to let you have my home.
I can’t even afford food, tho I work my hands to the bone.
You control my kids, and fuck my ex wife.
While I contemplate daily, ending my life.
But before I do, you will witness my Demon.
I’ve kept him caged, but just let him out for some fun.
It’s always the loudmouth who backs down quick.
Wonder what you’ll do when your moms severed head is on your dead dads dick.
As your head starts to fade into the fog.
I’m gonna take a step back and shit stomp your dog.
I’m gonna do to you, what you’ve done to me.
In hopes that maybe for a moment you’ll see.
That to me, my kids are everything.
Even in prison, there’d be less of a sting.
Knowing you’re gone and would hurt them no more.
So keep talking your shit, and acting hardcore.
I’ll sit here, with a smile on my face.
Playing nice, till you must be erased.

I step into the ring,
for the fight of my life.
I want to destroy something,
with anger and strife.
The crowd goes wild,
as my opponent comes out.
I don’t know if I’m ready,
for this title bout.
I tried to avoid it,
offered tons of resistance.
But the purse for this fight,
is my continued existence.
He comes out of his corner,
swinging ninety pound bricks.
I dip and I dodge,
I’m onto his tricks.
Then out of nowhere,
I’m caught with a right.
I stagger backwords,
something’s not right.
I throw a left hook,
but all I hit is air.
I think to myself,
this fight isn’t fair.
I try to duck a left jab,
but get caught in the face.
My eyes start to water,
like I’ve been sprayed with mace.
I fumble around,
taking punch after punch.
My brain isn’t working,
it’s like I’m out to lunch.
Life has me punch drunk,
in the corner of the ring.
My eyes are swollen shut,
I can’t see a thing.
Get up my brain screams,
I feel the the sting of the glove.
I look down on my body,
From way up above.
Broken and battered,
I fall to the floor.
I pick myself up,
And ready for more.
The bell is rung,
and I head for the stool.
This is one hell of a fight,
damn I’m a fool.
I may stagger and fall,
get battered and bruised.
But you picked the wrong fighter,
because I never lose.

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