Thursday, September 17, 2026

I was once blackmailed with a sex tape, and I now have thoughts on Ed Sheeran and Macklemore

In May of 2019, I was blackmailed by a woman who had recorded a sex tape of herself pegging me from behind, which she had taken without my knowledge or consent.

 

While the sex we had, was consensual, casual sex. The taping was not spoken about, and was recorded on her phone from a nightstand.

 

She threatened; (several days after the sex,) to send the video to my parents, to my wife, and to my workplace. She demonstrated that she had my home address, the address of my parents, and the address of my job; which she had obtained, by looking through my wallet, while I was in the bathroom.

 

She asked for money. $500 

 

 

She scared me.

She sent me snippets of the recorded video which she intended to send to everyone.

 

My “wife” (who she named) was really my female platonic roommate, who I was living with at the time.

We weren't married. That was something my blackmailer was mistaken about, but the tape getting into the hands of my boss and my parents would be disastrous, especially considering the type of (unconventional) sex that we were having. The release of such a tape would not yield good results for me.

 

The taping and possible release was non consensual.

It was incredibly slimy, and it could cause problems in my life.

But at the time the threat was made I wasn’t thinking about the ethics.

I was really scared. My heart was palpitating.

I thought about capitulating.

Then, I realized that there was no way that even if I sent this woman money that she would ever stop asking for more. Maybe she would. But I realized I had very little control. 

 

So I stopped, gathered my thoughts, excused myself from work for the rest of the day and thought about my options.

 

At 7 PM I called my boss, I told him that he might receive a package, an email or a CD, with a video, which wasn't the type of thing that he would typically receive by mail or email in the line of work we were in. I asked that if he did get such a thing, that he should be careful watching it. And I told him about the kind of things that it might contain.

He said that I should be more careful in the future, but that any type of such material that he received would not compromise me, or my standing within the company, he thanked me for my honesty. 

 

I didn't get into the specifics of the fact that I was getting buttfucked. I didn't need to go there.

I then had the same conversation with my parents who were obviously disappointed and chastised me endlessly. 

 

I then had the same conversation with my roommate, which was definitely the easiest part because, she didn't give a shit, and we quickly started laughing at the fact that this criminal mastermind obviously did some kind of information inquiry into me and thought that my roommate was actually my wife.

 

Having talked to all these people, I texted the blackmailing bitch (who had been spamming my phone all day) back saying: -

 

Hey, go ahead, send it to anyone you want. I don't give a shit. 

 

I called the police the next day and reported her address, phone number, and the name that she had given me when we met.

There was also credit card fraud involved (my card was not stolen just my numbers). So I needed to file a report after talking to my bank.

 

I met the bitch on the subway, going home from work. I had changed before leaving, and she started talking to me because I was wearing a funny shirt, and About 5 to 10 minutes later my horny/kinky ass, somehow told her about my sexual proclivities, and she asked if I wanted to get dinner, so I got off the train.

She seemed like she was hard on the times so I offered to pay for dinner, throughout which she disclosed that she was into the same thing that I was, but from the other end. She seemed nervous, in a cute way, and maybe even a little out of it. We smoked weed, and she might have been “self-medicating”, but I honestly didn't think much of it, because these things happen.

 

It was casual sex. I should have been more careful, but at no point during our actual intercourse, or “date” did anything raise any red flags.

 

What's important here is what she tried to do several days later.

Which was to isolate me from my parents, from my “wife”, from my job, she tried to make me feel scared and vulnerable and out of options. 

 

She tried to leverage her advantage over me. An advantage I had to eventually resign she had.

I think the thing that pulled me through wasn't some kind of courage, but it was a previously learned lesson.

 

A lesson in SPITE.

 

 While I acknowledge the privilege that I had with having a semi understanding boss, a cool roommate/"wife" and parents that (while very angry) didn’t kill me over this sort of thing; ultimately, it was my willingness to risk my comfort that secured me the levity that I needed at the moment

 

She harassed me for a little bit longer; calling what she thought was my bluff and then realizing she wasn't getting money from me and that she was being investigated by the police and the credit card authority, she stopped contacting me.

 

Now, I'm no famous musician.

I'm not selling out stadium concerts, but then again she wasn't Robert Kraft.

She wasn't an Epstein Class stadium owner and she didn't have billions at her disposal.

My game was in a different ballpark….or stadium.

 

Still, when I read about the way that Ed Sheeran crumbled under pressure, I thought about two things.

 

The first thing I pondered was how he was on the wrong side of the political divide, the wrong side of morality, wrong side of being a friend, and the wrong side of history.. 

 

I'm not going to get into that here though.

 

Free Palestine.  is all I need to say on the subject. 

 

The second thing I thought of is that all that aside, he is also a coward.

I don't say that as someone who judges him, I understand cowardice; I've been a coward before myself.

 

While I definitely despise his political takes and his weasely backbonelessness in trying to play the both sides rhetoric, I don't hate him for giving into fear.

 

I remembered what it was like to have power leveraged over you, both from my personal experiences and from the experiences of others both in history and in my life.

 I also don't hate everyone who doesn't hold the same “Incredibly virtuous”  “politically correct” opinions that I hold.

I used to have really bad politics, and the “good takes I have” come from people and experiences helping me develop good morals, often requiring mutual time investment, and painful disagreements 

You don't have to have saintly politics.

 

But there's a third option.

 

Between good politics and love on one side. and hate and fear on the other. There's a third option, SPITE.

Spite, is an incredibly important quality to have. I recommend it for everyone.

 

The next day when we were at work, my boss asked me about the situation and I went into a few more details about it.

My boss then told me to text her back, and to tell her that if she sent a video to my job it will be treated like sexual harassment of the entire business, and then that he will sue her in addition to helping me sue her for harassment.

 

I then posted about the blackmail on Facebook, and the top request/comment I received from the people on my wall was that we should get together and “crowdfund” the tape and that we should offer to buy the tape and throw a screening party.

 

Suddenly the entire thing became a joke. 

It lost all power over me

 

Ed Sheeran has $400 million dollars.

The best I was able to do was to get out of the situation I was in relatively (shaken but) unscarred.

 

His butt could have turned this whole situation upside fucking down.

You think what’s currently happening is bad PR for Robert Kraft?

I can’t even begin to tell you the kind of shenanigans, this guy could have pulled if he had me whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

If he had instead chosen to work with his friend of 13 years, against a billionaire, Epstein list, Trump voting, massage parlor tug job receiving Zionist. It would be epic.

 

Sinéad O'Connor got a bunch of shit for her, take. Dolly Parton, faced her level of criticism too, but now both of them are dead and they're remembered as much for their music, as they are for their political stances. Same with Muhammad Ali, who's now beloved by every fucking white Southerner who would have hated him, had they been alive at the time.

 

It's really hard to convey and teach good politics to people, politics is confusing and hard and life is busy and things are often multifaceted and complicated.

 

But teaching spite is easy.

 

Here it goes -  If you are ever put in a position where someone has tried to put leverage or their power over you, or they're trying to isolate or gaslight you or if they are trying to get non consensual things from you, for their benefit because they have some kind of power or leverage over you.

 

Don't panic. 

 

Sit and think

Don't think about how poorly your life will go IF these things happen.

Assume the worst WILL happen. And start planning your revenge. 

Or at least plan to get out of the situation alive and unharmed.

Focus on causing a ruckus.

 

 

 

 

 

On another note, as someone who's worked with several “Hr departments”, both for my job and for various other organizations, including at kink venues, let me tell you one thing about HR which I learned.

 

If you can't control the narrative or you are not sure what to do, don’t say or do shit.

Wait until you do.  

You don't owe anyone an explanation for why you are doing things,

And you certainly don't owe anyone immediacy in your action. 

 

That's one of the funniest things about this whole Ed Sheeran thing.

He acted rashly. He fell into the isolation trap set up for him, and then he fell into the cover your ass PR/HR trap, 

 

If he had been calm about the cancelation threat, he could have prolonged this into a very painful, slow process, Uno reverse political move that hurt the very people trying to leverage him, more than they could ever hurt him.

Robert Kraft could have been the only bad guy here.

Macklemore didn’t win because he stood alone. He won because he was on the right side of history and because he only acted when he was sure what he was doing.

Maybe they would have lost a concert or 2, but the damage done to the billionaire class would have been much higher. 

From a non political stand point this situation was very black and white. (Politically it was black and white too but, that’s for another time).

Ben chose the right side politically and tactically. Ed chose the wrong side

 

Now often these situations don't occur in such clear parameters, sometimes cases are really complex and grey, and sometimes Both parties are pretty amicable, or both pretty wretched.

Sometimes its best not to take sides or to explain the side you take.

 

Something I learned from being a trustee at the Philly Music Hall, is that when someone asks for your opinion about someone “who got in trouble”, you don't have to tell them what your opinion is, and you don't have to tell them whether you still support the person or in what way, or why.

You don't have to explain yourself.

When you join Kink, they say that “No is a complete sentence”.

Well, no applies to sexual acts like pegging and bondage, and “no” applies to not giving someone the explanation that they might want. 

 

You don't have to explain why you don't want to go on a date with the “nice guy”, from work, you don't have to explain why you don't want to be pegged by your girlfriend and you don't have to explain why you're still talking to the guy who, maybe for very legitimate reasons, has been ousted from the community. 

No, is a complete sentence, and you should know when to use it and when to be transparent,

That doesn't mean that that you should make safe spaces for bad people and that doesn't mean that you should hide your relations with bad people, and that doesn't mean that you should welcome unwelcomed people into public spaces, or that you should excuse consent violators, but sometimes it's better not to say anything in a multifaceted situation. Its definitely better then trying to play both sides and have both sides chew you out. 

 

I want to triple, convey that when I say this, I'm not excusing allowing predators into the scene. I am talking about responding under pressure in both complex and straightforward situations.

 

This whole writing is about knowing when to respond, when not to respond, and when to use SPITE

 

Finally, if you're someone who does HR professionally or as an event organizer, please read the statements Macklemore made.

They are a masterclass, of surgical level, precision missiles of how to write and how to keep control over your narrative.

He's an immaculate communicator, and I say this as someone who has worked for lawyers who don't know how to communicate as well. 

 

He is also politically correct.

 

So remember to keep spite in your pocket like you do your cellphone and

 

FREE PALESTINE.

 

 


Thursday, January 29, 2026

being illegal on a bus going off of a cliff

When my family came to this country, when I was 6;  we had three suitcases of clothes, a kettle, A small kennel for our poodle and $560. 

Toys r Us was like Lebec Fin. 
I got maybe a dollar store toy every couple of months.
Usually some sort of set so that I could feel I got more toys than I actually had. A lego set or 2 on my birthdays from a "wealthy" aunt or uncle.

I peed my pants on my first day of kindergarten because I didn't know the language. 

We came here legally. 

I NEVER, EVER, EVER ; want anyone to tell me that they find that commendable. 

Lucky, maybe. Lucky like someone who's able to get out of the projects.
But commendable...Fuck you. 

I mean this without a shred of hyperbole. 
To me that's the equivalent of the N-word. 
It might not carry the historical resonance; but it's the most offensive thing you could comment about/to me. 

That I'm "legal." 
I've never felt legal. 
Could you describe that feeling?
I didn't feel legal when we couldn't afford to go to McDonald's for the first 3 or 4 years we were here. 
I didn't feel legal when my parents would have to leave me alone with my dog at 6 or 7 years old for many hours at a time, while they worked endlessly, with only our neighbor occasionally checking on me. 
I felt alone, scared, isolated, misunderstood, and lonely. 

We literally won something called a "lottery", to get the little we got and we didn't get much more than the people who came here by other means. 
Some papers of approval from some cunty, bougie, bureaucrats who could give two shits about us; and a quick kurt handshake from Jim Gardner from the news. 

If you want to attack human traffickers and rapists, Fine. 
Start with the synagogue and the church.
Don't forget to stop by the White House. I'm sure you'll get to that list of pedophiles to confront but it'll probably be redacted.
So you will move on to the Somalis like a good boy, because an illiterate white supremacist will tell you to. 

I've seen people disregarded. Thrown away, looked down upon and condescended. I've seen cops throw my grandpa head first into the back of a police car because he couldn't speak English and wanted to testify that he was a witness to a crime. And my family had the benefit of white skin.

So If you think the word illegal means anything to me. Fuck you. 
Your white suburban friends who sell coke and ketamine are more Illegal. 

I know someone who came here "legally" whose mom had to prostitute herself to get raped by three guards as a bribe for a Green Card.

I know people who came here legally because someone helped get them over here legally and once they were here they were forced to use their fists for less than legal means until they could pay back their due, along with interest of course.
Legal and Illegal, they're virtually interchangeable.
But I'm glad that for you there's a distinction, about whether some  bored apathetic and mentally exhausted  cunt put the right stamp on a piece of paper before he went to lunch.

You pretend you don't like bureaucrats, but you could drown in your own red tape.
For you illegal is synonymous with criminal or rapist. Because that makes it easier.
Because it's easier to disregard them and their struggles if that's all they are.

 They're illegal. They broke the law. A misdemeanor mind you. A misdemeanor....  which could turn into a death sentence. One that used to get solved with letters, and court dates. 

I encountered three kinds of kids on the playground. 
A few bullies - who threw away my foreign lunch because it was " disgusting". 
A few friendlies who honestly wanted to help. 
And all the other kids and adults too comfortable in their legality, their precious status, to ever pay any mind or attention to the struggles me and my family faced. My legal family. 
The popular kids table is a lot longer than you think, and sometimes it feels like there will never be any room for you.

Following the law doesn't make you a good person. Not being a cunt doesn't make you a good person. 

You throw out illegal like a pejorative. 

You might not be the kid beating the kid up at the back of the bus. Sure. You might not even be one of the kids cheering. You're just the kid who looks the other way.
Meanwhile the bus driver's driving us off a cliff. Legal, Illegal, and Legacy alike.


Sunday, October 5, 2025

Where is a name and Who Will Remember it

Dear Martha, I want you to know that I took the advice which you gave me that evening seriously. 

Dear Martha, I want you to know that I asked my Mother, the question you instructed me to ask her, I asked her if she knew what Dachau was.

I know you thought that she would yell at me, because I didn't know what it was, but she didn't know what it was either; even after I looked it up, and spelled it out for her in Cyrillic, 

She didn't know what it was. She didn't care that I didn't know either. 

Dear Martha, you were wrong.

 

Dear Martha, I knew what a concentration camp was. 

I’m glad that, now thanks to your help, I knew the name of one that I didn't know before, But I knew what happened in them, I knew what they looked like. 

I knew how to spot them. 


Dear Martha, it's been about 15 years since we had this conversation and my Father is a Genocide Denier, and a Holocaust Denier. 

Not of Dachau, but of Gaza. 

I send him pictures and articles and he thinks that they're faked and fabricated. 

Dear Martha, it doesn't really matter if you know what Dachau was, if you can't recognize what Gaza IS. 

How important is a name?

How important is a name? 

When you don't believe your eyes and see reality for what it is.

Is a name enough to make it real? To make it true? To make you act? 


Dear Martha, you write about demons and piety and faith. 

You question the reason for their existence, and whether they're present and in what form they're present.

But do you ever ask yourself if Hell deserves to exist, just because demons do? 

What if they just like that desert heat? 

Does the presence of demons, justify the existence of  Hell? 

What if it's hell for one people and a haven for others? 

If the demons like the fire that Burns, should it be allowed to burn

It Burns the innocent peoples, it burns children alive, LITERALLY. 

What do you do if the demons are your relatives? 

What if the demons who created this Hell were your relatives? 

What if it was always meant to be Hell

Would you have condoned them?

When would you stop it?

Will you help stop it now?

Will you speak?

Will you call it by its name?

When does one speak?

When do you name something?

When do you say nothing? 

Dear Martha, your silence is deafening. 

More deafening than any ancestral story or name, my mother didn't tell me.

More deafening; than any lapse of knowledge, or lapse of name; that I or my mother, 

Who you asked me to ask, ever could have had.

YOU KNOW, 

You and people like you know, what's happening. 

You see it. In name and in form.

And yet, you say nothing. 


Dear Martha, I sent my father some links about what's happening, and he doesn't believe it. 

Because he will only believe it when SOMEONE LIKE YOU sends it to him and you refuse to do so.

I have always been the ignored crazy black sheep.

You are complicit in your silence, 

Especially because, YOU might actually be believed, and not ignored.


Dear Martha, every day I get told by our “Tribal” Contemporaries, that my grandparents, are looking up or down at me with shame. 

Fuck our contemporaries, dear Martha, 

Fuck them. Fuck their allies, Fuck our tribe,  

Fuck the elders silencing you.

Fuck the inner voice silencing you.

Or if you do not see what’s happening, fuck the splinter in thy eye blinding you.


Dear Martha, I want you to know that back then,

When we were sitting in your apartment building drinking coffee and you were profoundly upset that I didn't know what Dachau was, 15 years ago. 

I was not upset that you were angry with me. 

I accept that I had limitations to my knowledge that perhaps I should have addressed. 

I was ruffled, that I do admit,

But my limitations were not the source for me being downcast. 

I was not hurt or angered by you, not the knowledge you shared, nor the conversation we had, nor even the partial moment of judgment. 

But there's a reason that I still remember this dear Martha.


I remember this because I always knew.

I always knew, I always suspected, even back then. 

That just knowing the name of Dachau, Didn't change anything. 

And I always resented that you implied, THAT IT DID. 

Not that you implied, that I was dumb for not knowing it. 

I don't think you did such a thing. 

But that the name…. 

That knowing the name would somehow make me understand or see something clearer. 

It didn't. It doesn’t.

I now know the name of Dachau.

And I know the name of Gaza!

My father knows the name of Gaza!

And yet he still rejects that it’s a genocide. 

Still, he rejects that it's a Holocaust. 

In fact sometimes I question if he possibly thinks that they deserve it. 


So dear Martha, what's in a name? 

Dear Martha, what's in your silence?

Dear Martha, what would the people of Dachau, say if they could witness Gaza right now? What would they say to you?

What would they Name it?

Would it matter to them? 

Would they be terrified? Would they be surprised?  


Was not that, the original question, Dear Martha? 

What they would say?

I don't even remember now. 

Somehow, a conversation we were having,

A pleasant one at that, 

Led to someone saying something offhanded, 

And then you asked what would the people of Dachau say? 

And I asked, thinking it was some Czech city, what's Dachau? 

And then you and my friend looked at me like I was some kind of alien, a mutant,

Which is forgivable and understandable. 

And then you told me “ask your mother what Dachau is.” 

After which you did explain what Dachau was.

Well. I did ask her, and it was no help.  


I try to tell her what Gaza is. 

I try to ask her what Gaza is. 

Nowadays, all those years later, when my mother calls me, and we talk.  

She insists that I call more often and ask how she's doing, and that she gets to ask how I'm doing. How is the food? Am I hungry, How’s my work?, Call your Grandmom, Am I keeping healthy? I'm getting too fat. 


Me, Me, Me.

You, You, You 

Her Her Her 

Us Us Us. 

Here, in Suburbia and in the outer city. 

Clothed, Warm, Quenched, Housed, 

And in between 4 Russian Supermarket chains, not Hungry. 

But still its us us us!

As if we are suffering.


She never wants to talk about it. 

It just IS.

Its sad sure…

But there's nothing to talk about. 

There is nothing to say.

There is only something to name.

Something to name and to label, and then to store,

Out of sight and mind.

It's just something that’s happening. 

Something that always happens. 

And always happened.

It is background noise.

Its become background noise. 

Excusable holocaust. 

Named and permitted.

Named and present and forgotten at the same time.


Now that's NOT on you, Dear Martha. 

That's not on you. 

This isn't only addressed to you, 

This is NOT even mainly addressed to you.

Yours is just a name that came to mind, when I was thinking, of current events and what led up to them. 

That conversation, that learning opportunity and memory are just one of the many relative ones I now know and have. 

Your name and your silence are very partial. 

There are far worse people than you. 


There are the people who pull the triggers on guns and fire the bullets. 

Who drop the bombs and level cities. 

The people who cheer as buildings burn, and 

The people who cut off water, food, internet, electricity, supplies and medicine. 

They will never, ever, ever be forgiven. 

There are not enough Yom Kippurs in eternity.

I will never make tribe with them. 

There are many many sorted levels between them and people like you, Dear Martha. 

You are practically innocent.

Slightly more innocent then my Barber (More like barbaric) Aunt from Haifa,

Who cheers as European protesters get half beat to death and posts “Pallywood videos. At lease she doesn’t do “Ma Kashur”  

Shes better then that, 

And you are better then her. 


But where are you? 

There is a Great book. 

And in it our names. 

Names known and unknown.

Names learned and remembered and forgotten.

Names and voices behind them.

Names and people to speak them.

We all know what the name Dachau means now.

I know where to place it, and where to place the name of Gaza.

I am not here to place or displace YOUR NAME.

But where will your Name be?

Where will your voice be?

Where will your name be?

And who will remember it?

 


Friday, October 13, 2023

Schaden

If I meet the God of Justice….down the road,
And find them to be a reasonable thing. 
Before they turn me into Prince or toad
I will tell all the truth that I can sing 
For never did a master raise his crop
Who did not deserve the lash upon his back
& Never did a drunkard beat his wife
Who did not deserve to have his skull cracked.
John Brown….was sound…. and right…. in all he did.
Guilty Blood washes off, easy as the sand.
But when you spill your brother’s blood
Among the dirt you share, 
You give up all your rights to your shared land.
So I shall beg that hidden Reaper in my path,
To only pass and let by the ones 
With condemnation and burden on their heart.
Those who screech the warning with their lungs,
Asking for it all to stop.
For every man that reasons his own brothers’ death,
I shall not stand as death makes that man depart.
Whatever motivates their broken heart.

Oh Schadenfreude, oh Schadenfreude.
Take every man who doth proclaim to jail his brother for his own good
I will happily watch them rot entrapped inside a cage.
Take every woman who kills her own sister, 
A sister…. in color …..And in manner…. and in custom… and in meal …and in hue.
Take every woman who kills her own sister, 
And do whatever you intend to do.

I do not stand in the path of Justice 
I am not here to save the cursed lot
I am no Christ. 
And I shall never ask you to forgive anyone
Simply because “they know not what they do.”
They all had Google,
They could have looked it up.

Themis…. TAKE THEM TOO.
But leave me the few….
The few…who still see a siblings face amongst a sea of fleeing refugees and strangers.
Take all the rest
I have not the strength or divinity to protest.

If I meet the God of Justice….down the road,
And find them to be a reasonable thing. 
Even though I could probably ask them for a lot,
It’s only for the innocents that I’d sing.

Saturday, October 7, 2023

Not Real

My face shall remain dry,
For every year that my Rabbi,
Told 8 year old me that our people were better.

"The only good one is a dead one",
 they taught the child in me, 
at a school meant for the chosen people.

I do not weep when inequalities and restitutions, 
come for people who told me the we are counted above even.

I learned the n word from a rabbi who later got caught for extortion. 
He counted every cent that someone darker then him used to buy his daily bread; 
but stole five figures worth of money to his coffers.

Apartheid and  Cultural Supremacy are not immune to Karma.
I've seen the zoos they keep them in with my own eyes.
You say 'never again', but your policys perpetuates the drama, exposing your sentiments for empty words and lies.

Monday, November 29, 2021

Cynthia

In a building, in north Philly
Was a shaft quite like a mine
But the lift inside was broken
So they walked the steps serpentine

Oh, her children, oh her children,
Used to be alive and fine,
But she didnt fix the problem ,
Made them walk steps serpentine..

Cheap she was and like a Slum lord
And her rent was asnine,
But she did not head the tenants
Made them walk steps serpentine

Oh, her children, oh, her children,
Used to be alive and fine,
But she didnt fix the problem ,
Made them walk steps serpentine..

Took her twin boys to the rooftoop
Told her she had little time
Off the edge the kids were dangeling
Held up just by some burning twine

Oh, her children, oh, her children,
Used to be alive and fine,
But she didnt fix the problem ,
Made them walk steps serpentine..

Cursing she tried to hit the button
Got the chills deep in her spine
But, alas it restitution, its time to pay the fine
Now its her, who has to climb steps serpentine.

Oh, her children, oh, her children,
Used to be alive and fine,
But she didnt fix the problem ,
Made them walk steps serpentine..

In a graveyard they were buried
In a place no stairs will find
As she weeps over their caskets
Her tears fall salty as a brine.

Oh, her children, oh, her children,
Used to be alive and fine,
But she didnt fix the problem ,
Made them walk steps serpentine.

If she had only fixed the Silo
She would have reached her brats in time.
Now she only has her daughter,
And she spends her evenings crying

Oh, her children, oh, her children,
Used to be alive and fine,
But she didnt fix the problem ,
Made them walk steps serpentine..

Out of breath they climbed thrice daily,
Sufferung Morning, evening, and lunchtime
Till they finally reached their wits end.
 in the sand they drew a line.
she was given many chances.
but she chose the wrong paradigm

Oh, her children, oh, her children,
Used to be alive and fine,
But she didnt fix the problem ,
Made them walk steps serpentine..

you might say the sentence was harsh.
punishment didn't fit the crime.
call us lazy...call us crazy
but at least now we're breathing fine.

yes she fixed the elevator.
how we love to hear it chime.
and we guess she learned her lesson.
it's a moral most divine
no one has the breath or patience
to climb the steps Serpentine

Oh, her children, oh, her children,
Used to be alive and fine,
But she didnt fix the problem ,
Made them walk steps serpentine..

Tuesday, July 20, 2021

Russian Rap for JoebTrack

Я возвращаюсь домой пьяный.
Mояa девочка со мной.
х## мой стоит упрямый.
но в моём желудке бой. 
теперь она меня должна подождать.
потому что мне надо срать.

я на шоссе еду к другу, дольдо не видел я его.
Я хочу с ним покурить травку и посмотреть кино.
теперь мне надо остановиться в станции газовой 
когда я завтрак свой tam оставлю в толчке будет Прибой.

долгий проекты на работе.
цифры в голове мешаются.
Я хочу решить, кто мне должен и которому должен я.
сосредоточиться мне мешает урчание живота.
и если я не освобожусь.
я не Составлю 2 + 2.

Новый год я в Нью Йорке.
Салют звенит , а я пою.
трафик в туннеле, Holland.
машины. зад к переду.
Из моей трубы выходит выхлоп.
Скоро я буду засранец. Скоро я буду жлоб