Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Interview with Jesus- Part 1


As part of a new and exciting feature of AnalogBlog, we are proud to present this first in a series of Personality Profiles and Interviews with prominent figures of the Past and Present.
But mostly the Past. (due to certain legal restrictions)
And so, as they say, without further ado-

Well what can I say to start this one off.....obviously someone who needs no introduction and has been for Centuries World renowned as a Philosopher/Savior/Messiah and All-Around Good Guy.......

AB: Mr. Jesus Christ, Thank you for sharing some time with us today and welcome to AnalogBlog.

JC: Thank you for having me Billy...and Jesus is just alright with me. (winks)

AB: Our pleasure. OK, Jesus it is.....although I stated that you needed no intro I guess I'm gonna try to sum up your, well, career for the 2 or 3 people out there who haven't yet heard of you.....

JC: (beaming, nods encouragement)

AB: You were born dirt poor in Bethlehem, a small town in what was then Jerusalem, about 2,000 years ago, give or take, to a carpenter named Joseph and a virgin named Mary (we'll get into that later) then had what was by all accounts a fairly normal childhood before establishing yourself as a leading Prophet/Revolutionary sometime in your early 30's as you rapidly gained a sizable and dedicated following along with unfortunate persecution from the Government before being falsely accused, arrested, convicted and crucified by the Roman Empire only a few years into your peaceful campaign, a ghastly death that oddly enough lead to your lionization, deification and eventual global preeminence these thousands of years later.....and now you're certainly one of the world's most recognized, if not always agreed upon, icons of religious faith and moral/ethical righteousness.
How's that feel today?

JC: (shrugs, grins bashfully) Well I'm absolutely humbled and grateful but I do want to straighten a few of the more minor details out before we all get too far off track here.

AB: The Virgin Birth thing, you mean?

JC: Oy! Billy please........I wasn't even there yet, you know what I mean? I mean let's stick to the stories where at least I was a Sentient Being, eh? Maybe like more than 1-day old, fer instance? Whattya say? (chuckles)

AB: Right, my bad.

JC: Virgin birth....... I mean, yikes! No comment.

AB: Gotcha. Well I've alluded to the fact that your Christian Faith and Following has since grown into the, what, at least 100's of millions of True Believers around the globe.....
Do you feel vindicated after such a brief period of spreading the Word before your untimely, earthly, death?

JC: Of course I'm pleased with the way the stories have grown and if they've helped the World to be a better, safer, more loving place then I'm happy but I was always pretty sure about the Message so vindication is not really a term I'd care to use.
Having said that, however, when I think of how easy it all could've been today what with the Internets and YouTubes and MySpaces......Oy! It gives me a pain!
I mean We were walking! In cheap sandals or barefoot!
Miles and miles from dusty little village to drought-ridden run-down towns, if you can call them that when most didn't even have a simple, common marketplace to get a bite or anything, and lucky to scrounge up a couple of half-starved goat herders or 5 or 10 near-dead farmers who weren't too exhausted to listen to the Good News. Maybe a few lonely fisherman on their 1 day off a year was a big crowd for Us.
Talk about rolling the rock uphill!

Now?

3 million hits in one week for that Lady with the voice over in England? How can ya' go wrong?
I give up!
Forget about it!
Great set of pipes tho'. Fact.

AB: Quite a lot has changed. Was all the hiking the major difficulty of spreading your Message of Non-judgemental Love and Forgiveness throughout the Middle East back then?

JC: I wish...oh how I wish it were.

AB: The Romans?

JC: The Romans were no treat, lemme tell ya'.....brother, they were building an Empire and they were gonna build it!
Slavery, torture, indiscriminate prosecution and murders.......what a collection of Hard-ons those guys. And try figuring out what they were gonna come up with next if you didn't want to sleep at night or get a moments peace.
And the taxes!
Trust me , you don't even know from taxes!

AB: So it was the Romans?

JC: no.........Billy, you know the main problem was and is the same hurdle we'd have to jump today. Ya' see Peace, Brotherly Love , Fairness, Forgiveness, Compassion, ........those are all tough, tough sells to the Money Men, then and now and that's really the nut buster right there.
And just try cutting into some shyster's established religious base sometime if you really wanna make your enemies line up with stones in their fists. Philistines...Yeeesh.....you can talk 'till you're blue in the face, don't get me started.

AB: I hear Ya'. But don't you think we could update the Message a little bit now.......give it some spin...sex it up a bit, you know, just to sort of freshen up the Brand and get the Kids into the tent, so to speak?

JC: Bill, (beatific smile) have faith. I got this one.

AB: 'Nuff said. Well, I guess the burning question so many readers are dying to ask, or should I say questions, concern the Miracles.
Any objections?

JC: Bring it on, Kid.

(Part II to follow.)

Saturday, April 11, 2009

'Cuz it's Monday.....That's Why!

And Mr. Rock has a message for you.




AND I'M TRIPPIN'!

Thursday, April 2, 2009

scorched earth policy


The thing she used to say about yesterday and all her yesterdays was this-

“I’m not too good at remembering things…. But…… I’m really good at forgetting them!”

Then she’d smile her Naomi smile. Shy and sly, promising nothing and offering everything, her slender body bursting with juice and satisfaction. She was a spoiled child wanting what she wants, a careless whore burning her bridges, a seductive narcotic demanding no sacrifice, a roaring fire warming your flesh and drawing you toward the flames. Hypnotic. If you happened to have been fortunate enough to have tasted her pleasures already then her promise of earthly heaven would make your cock thump in your pants as she stood there teasing, curling her lithe limbs into herself, pulling you into her oblivious orbit.

If it was your first shot at it then hold on brother, your life was about to change forever because Naomi was no tease.

The first time I met her we cut straight through the shit and dug in. I explained about my motorcycle, the perfect weather, the cool breeze off the water and she took a nice bite.

“I’m working till 11… can I call you then… maybe go for a ride... get something to eat?”

“Can you?” Her soft voice insinuating pleasure. “It might be wonderful.”

I’d met her on the job, I was working at a train station and she was passing through, a 20-yr. old student on vacation, traveling alone and looking for some what...kicks? I didn't care.

She stood in front of me, close enough for me to breathe her scent, crossing one foot in front of the other; tracing lines or biding time I didn’t know because she was staring at her shoes and I was fixated on her tiny top, a piece of tan stretch fabric that couldn’t cover my head. No bra, didn’t need one. When I finally managed to pull my eyes up and off her, she had me locked in.

”Why don’t you just pick me up instead?” she’d lifted her dark eyes straight into mine and left them there, measuring me.

“You got it, beautiful.”

I could feel my heart in my chest. Naomi told me the address and gave me a phone number just in case, then turned and walked out a door and into the jam packed sidewalk, disappearing in the crowd almost instantly. I started repeating the numbers in my head as I ran to borrow a pen. I ran fast.
I hit the clock at 11 sharp and jumped on the bike at 11:01; I revved the engine, jumped the street and twisted throttle all the way, flying through the night towards her, aiming straight between her legs.

It was a 20 minute ride to get to her address, a youth hostel, and I ran through the options in my head- Take her to eat where? Take her to drink after but where? Should I take her dancing? Late night stroll on the beach? And most importantly- How do I get her back to my place and into my bed?

I was 32 and no rookie to hookups but Naomi was different than any other I’d encountered before. For one she was young and young girls were often surprising in wonderful or terrible ways. They might be savvy and they might be stupid, they might be calm and collected or they might be empty headed and dull yet frighteningly unable to stop running their brainless mouths, at least until you put a hard dick into it. But Naomi was a mystery and impossible to read. Her face gave away no hints to any definitive nature, it was innocent and decadent simultaneously; teasing girlish lips on a tiny bird mouth with dancing almond eyes framed by a short shock of careless black hair, almost daring you to stare or forcing you to look away. The skin was light caramel and flawless. Her whole body casually conveyed the only important fact that I was able to glean upon first sight-

She had a secret, maybe she’d tell or maybe she wouldn’t.

I turned the final corner to her hostel as I thought about all those things then I stopped thinking and started looking for numbers. I couldn’t find the address right away so I pulled up close to where I thought it might be and asked a woman who was walking by for help. As I was explaining my predicament to her I heard the voice, playful and taunting.

“Hey… I’m right here!”

She was standing at the curb, somehow I hadn’t spotted her but she must’ve been there all along, waiting for me to show. As I turned to look at her I found myself hoping she was no mirage.

She’d replaced the tube top with a black t-shirt that was even tighter, her sweet 20 yr. old tits poking at me like ripe peaches waiting to be plucked and sucked. Her lean legs were wrapped in flared blue jeans that clung like paint. High heeled gold strapped sandals highlighted her perfectly dainty feet, toes painted glossy black. Her hair was even more careless than earlier, as if she’d just fell out of bed and didn’t mind the look, I knew I didn’t. Her hips were a soft challenge to my hardness and locked in a cocky “Come get me” stance. The lips were moist, red and pursed into arrogant bee stings, daring me to make a move.

“OH YEA!” It erupted from me like a burp, she cracked into a small smile, waiting and radiating desire. “C’mon girl, let’s ride.”

I patted the back seat and she jumped forward and hopped right on. I had to grab some thigh, it was a gamble but I wasn’t able to stop my hand. I found the only thing wrong was that I’d have to let it go. As I kneaded that choice meat I felt I should say something just to prove to myself that I could still speak. I blurted,

“GODDAMN you look good!”

She slid her hands around my chest and leaned her chin into my shoulder as if we’d been riding together for years, natural.
“You too.” And she squeezed back. I wanted to throw her on the ground, rip her clothes off, suck her and slam it in deep but somehow I managed to get it in gear and jerk the throttle instead, pulling out fast and tight.

When we stopped at the first red light I asked her if she was hungry and did she want to get something to eat. She whispered clearly into my ear, her breath tickling my brain.

“I’d rather drink.” That’s the kind of girl she was.

The drinking didn’t take long. I rode over to a place where I knew the bartender and knew we wouldn’t have any problems with ID’s. I told her I was getting a beer and what did she want.
“OOoooh…… I loooove beer!”
She said it like I’d slid my finger into her nice and gently and was working it just right. I turned to the bar to catch my man’s attention and get the drinks, it was crowded so maybe he took sixty seconds or so. When I turned around with the glasses Naomi was curled up like a spider on a flame, one hand in front of her blue jeaned pussy and the other at her mouth, nibbling on her thumb; she was staring at her shoes again and crossing her feet one over the other. In front of her were two young boys sitting at a table ignoring their drinks and leaning into her, slack jawed and smiling everywhere.

“So where are you from?” one was begging and grinning ear to ear while he did it. I cut in hard.

“Don’t worry about it, slick….. C’mere you.”
I didn’t say it in any nice way either but she followed me. The boys looked like I’d just canceled Christmas but they weren’t the type to do anything about it, she didn’t seem to care in the least as we sat down at another table. I flashed a look over to the boys and they snagged the hint.

I took a sip of my beer. She lifted hers and drained it in around ten seconds, gulping fast as it slid home, then she placed her empty glass down on the table carefully, precisely as if the world depended on it, and breathed,

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” Rolling her eyes and licking her lips, “Oh I’ve been waiting so long for that.” I chugged a generous amount of mine to be neighborly.

“Want another?”
“MMMMMMMM…….YEA!”
Like a cool cheerleader who smokes and gets kicked off the squad. If she was up to anything other than a good time she sure wasn’t thinking about it too much. I signaled to a barmaid two more and she brought them over as I finished mine. Naomi stared at me blissfully and I tried some small talk as the drinks arrived and I paid up.

Did she like school?
“I Loooove it.”
Do you like Montana?
“I want to die there.”
“What are you majoring in?”
“No major yet, maybe journalism… I don’t really want to know right now.”
What do you want to do after college?
“Go to Paris.”

Then she leaned forward and slowly slid her hand up my arm from wrist to bicep. My cock was drumming in my pants. It’s always shocking to me how certain girls can just touch you with a fingertip and your rod snaps out like a switchblade, and other girls can be scarfing your pole till they gag and it’s strictly a yawn. Naomi had a touch that singed my blood.

“But do you know what I really want to study next year?” I just shook my head, it was all I could manage.
“Massage therapy.” I hoped she didn’t see me gulp.
“Cool….. Maybe….. Ah…. you could practice on me sometime?” It was as smooth as I could make it and the only question her eyes left me to ask, but still it came out a croak.
“Anytime.”

She said it quietly and calmly but I thought I saw the color in those eyes change or maybe it was just the booze. She gently squeezed my arm and then purred.
“Mmmmmmmmmm.”
We both tilted glasses. When I had enough breath to talk I said,
“How about practicing on me tonight?”
“Sure.” She came back so fast and certain that she could’ve slapped me and I would’ve been less surprised.
One voice in my head whispered- Is this broad a Pro? Gotta be. Is she going to tell me any second now, “You know it’s going to be five hundred, don’t you?” Hell I didn’t have money like that and she should know that if she’s a Pro!
But another voice barked- Push it you punk, go for broke. ROLL THE DICE!
Or maybe it was just the lead between my legs.
“How ‘bout right now?”
She glared at me then lifted her second glass again. I did the same. I put my empty down a moment before hers. Her dark eyes were definitely flashing fire as she set the glass down and stared into me.
“Let’s go.”
No trace of a smile on her lips, a blessed beautiful mystery.

Go we did.
I tunnel vision bee-lined all the way home as she held on tight. When we made it to my front door I worked the lock faster than a burglar on parole and she marched straight in ahead of me as if she owned the joint. I shut the door, locked it behind us and when I turned around she’d already found the bed and was sitting on it, her feet off the floor, burning a hole into me with those soft almond eyes, flames dancing. Naomi casually kicked off her high heels as I slowly approached; I wanted the sight of her in my bed to last forever and I wanted to pounce immediately, the only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted it all. Then she crossed her forearms, grabbed her t-shirt at the waist with both hands and pulled it over her head, shaking her short hair out. Those sweet peachy breasts bounced to attention, golden skin glowing, as she leaned back onto her elbows and waited. I didn’t make her wait long and I shucked the painted on blue jeans off her almost as fast as she had the shirt. Her tiny black panties were criminal in their intent and so beautifully wound around her ripe ass that I almost wanted to leave them right where they were and savor the vision, but the only thing they covered effectively was the treasure of her wet temple and I wanted in, in the very worst way.
I carefully peeled the panties then Naomi gazed brazenly up into my eyes as she spread her slender bare legs in invitation, dainty toes stroking my chest ever so softly. No drink ever got me that drunk.
10 or 12 seconds later I was buck naked and then we didn’t say much of anything for the next 15 minutes or so as we smashed our bodies together, or maybe it was an eternity.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Happy VD! (valentines day...whaddya think)

and in lieu of Flowers and Chocolates I give you...

Smokey...




Howabout a little Rev. Al Green to keep the Love Train chuggin'?

Dig that SuperFunky 'Fro!




Finally, to bring it all home, one from the king to remind us fellas why we should indeed indulge in this most counterfeit of Holidays.
And please remember My Western Friends- In J-Land the Men get the Chocolate and the Ladies stand in line to buy it!
Gotta love this place sometimes!




LOVE = GOOD

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Shooting for the Stars!


“Being a Hero is about the shortest-lived profession on Earth.” Will Rogers

Yes the Worldwide Economy is in freefall and, no, I fear that we are not yet at or close to bottom and it's most definitely true that we've still got Wars raging, rogue Nations searching for their own personal Nuclear Toys and Women are currently being beaten and killed in certain places for showing their faces in Public and/or enjoying the beverage of their choice. Choice being the operative word and fanatical Religious fervor the operative weapon but for right now lets just ignore the fact that there may indeed be fundamental cultural differences between certain portions of this World we share and, instead, focus on the burning issue of today, shall we?
Namely...

A-Rod and his steroid junkie Brethren.

You know the All-Star list-
Clemens
Tejada
McGwire
Sosa
Palmiero
Giambi
Sheffield
Petitte

Doubtless there are scores of others who I am shamefully neglecting to mention that belong in this heralded crew and whose names will likely be surfacing at the top of this slimy bucket shortly but you get the point.

Yet the Yankee 3rd Baseman deserves center stage today because he has been officially outed then subsequently (as of Tues.) performed the now mandatory televised 1st stop on what will surely be the A-Rod Apology Tour by coming clean (ahem) to Lead-Off Apologee and Sports journalist Pete Gammons from that most consistently worthless of sports rags SI.
Rodriguez was humble, polite, contrite and damn close to sincere. He was evasive, not quite persuasive and at all times thoroughly coached and properly uncomfortable as he squirmed, backpedaled, sidestepped and ducked most of Gammons' obligatory lobs while rockin' his Little Boy Blue Polo by Timberlake.

You Fans were expecting?

Because you see the unholy Trinity of SportsStar/Journalist/Fan is the center of this maelstrom of Bullshit and adds up to, and always has to me, the equivalent of Hypocrisy Bowling- Each taking a Big turn at knocking down the pins that they've all set up for each other as they feverishly keep score of their near meaningless but absolutely manic recreation whose relevance ends the moment they exit the Alley. I mean, you know.....unless of course you happen to have some decent, hard-earned, honest money bet on the outcome.

Or perhaps a more accurate analogy is a Hypocrisy CircleJerk with each feverishly yanking the others tool in the intense desire for some orgasmic ending to their endless adolescent fantasies of Championship Glory and Power.

Or maybe a Sports Strip Club- The Players being the Dancers with the Giant Counterfeit Guns (but who cares, the bigger the better, right?) and even more Counterfeit smiles, the Journalists (and I am using that term very loosely) being the sidewalk Hawkers who shill for the Club, grab the Money fast and don't ask any questions or mind any mess.
The Fans you ask?
Yea, they're the saps with fistfuls of sweaty dollar bills dreaming of any possible connection with that long since unobtainable yet tantalizingly miraculous mirage right in front of their desperately hungry eyes but worlds away from their own mundane realities, hopelessly blinded by their juvenile lust for a fantasy that will never, ever, ever come anywhere close to happening.

And I'm a Cubs Fan so trust me, I know.

Yes my opinion of most SportsFans, assembled through many years of incidental but nonetheless painfully dullheaded interaction, is not and has never been very high based solely on the collected research and my opinion of most Sports Writers/broadcasters quite a bit lower based on their almost universally sycophantic and simultaneously parasitic Starfucking output so it is with a veritable truckload of salt that I offer my take on this unfortunate and unfortunately ridiculous situation.

But A-Rod and his multi-millionaire ilk?

Call me what you will but today I got Slack to give to those fraudulent SuperStars and I ain't expecting any in return. Why?

My reasons are complex so I'll attempt to simplify.

1.I Remember Playing the Game
No, I was no Star. Indeed at the height of my athletic prowess (somewhere in my mid-twenties) I'm sure I was Oceans removed from the level of competition that is Professional Sports (well, except for Soccer...I don't think anybody's too far away from a Starter there) on every single level. Yet if you would've offered me the chance to close that gap even a little by taking any pill, powder, potion or poison available to me I guarantee you I would not have hesitated. Not even blinked.

2.There are Insane Amounts of Money Involved
The average salary of an MLB Ballplayer in 2008 was 3.1 MILLION DOLLARS!
AVERAGE!
Do you happen to be average at your job? How much you making?
If I offered you a raise of say......3 million dollars a year for taking a proven chemical supplement that just might put you over the top and place your Family on Easy Street..........
Think you'd take it?

3.Stop with The Reefer Madness Hysteria
I cannot find nor have I ever read or heard of a single thorough, definitive or even serious current Research Study of the Long Term Effects of responsible Steroid use on the Human Body. Medicinal Steroid use is widespread at every level of organized Health maintenance, a common treatment for a variety of physical ills and the beneficial effects, used responsibly, are Medical facts.
Responsible and irresponsible Steroid use and abuse has been a part of Athletics since the 70's with no clear evidence of direct fatal effects on a single subject. Not one.
Side effects? Yes. No doubt unpleasant but minor, manageable and likely less severe than you may expect from any prescription Blood Pressure medication currently flooding US markets (Vioxx, Valtrex, Effexor etc...take your pick) and being forcefed to you by a tidal wave of Primetime TV commercials.
If you want to have a rational discourse on the Dangers of Steroid use I'll join in but first put away the goofy, tail-chasing Reefer Madness argument that this practice is BAD because these athletes/role models are doing irreparable harm to themselves. It just ain't so, Joe.
Or give up your Beer, Booze, Coffee, Cigarettes and especially Junk Food before pointing fingers or expressing your faux outrage.

4.The Inmates Took Over The Asylum
The Baseball Powers-that-Be of the 80's and 90's (we're looking at you Selig) willfully, willingly and gleefully allowed the madness to take place on their watch solely because it filled the coffers of their facilities and lined the pockets of everyone at every level. The Well was poisoned and although I'm positive not every Inmate drank the water (Jeter and many others) I'm equally sure that so significant a percentage did partake as to make the entire fairness/level-playing-field issue a more or less moot point. Tough break for some? Yes. Which leads me to...

5.A Cheating River Runs Through It
Baseball has always looked the other way at their own longstanding and firmly entrenched Culture of Cheating. From Ty Cobbs sharpened spikes there is a direct line to Barry Bonds Bulbous Head. In between are a long list of corked bats, nailed bats, leaded bats, superballed bats, spitballs. scuffballs, sandpaper, thumbtacks, juiced balls, frozen balls, stolen signs, amphetamines, non-banned substances and Canseco Shakes.
All these sins are/were egregious and unforgivable (no matter how many have been forgiven) but to attempt to pin the Grand Prize on the Steroids Era is to close the Barn door a looooooooooooooong time after the horse got out.

And finally

6.The Asterisk* Is (in fact) Punishment Enough
Seen McGwire basking in any adoring applause lately?
Or Home Run King Barry Bonds picking up any paychecks?
Caught any Sosa On-Camera air kisses recently?
And you won't.
Know what else you won't be witnessing? Any of these pumped up Musclemen making their Hall of Fame acceptance speeches anytime soon or ever.
And yes, that is sufficient punishment to fit the crime as long as it accompanies a deep, indelible asterisk* next to ALL of their records...Forever.
Because.....

7.The Playing Field has Only Recently Become Level
Jackie Robinson joined the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947. I firmly believe it would be very safe to say that until that Day at least 2/3 of the very best Players were not only not given an equal chance to compete, they weren't even given a chance to play at all! It would further be safe to say that integration did not become widespread until as least a decade later and the playing field did not truly level until perhaps a decade after that. Now I'm positive that the 1946 St Louis Cards fielded an excellent Team that played at a High Level and I mean no disrespect to any of their Fine Players but that Team was all White and only White. Check the '08 Phillies and the situation may snap into a sharper focus.
So for all those out there who would wail about the sanctity of Baseball History and all its Sacred Records I bring harsh news.
Your Records ain't all that pure, Man, so unless you want to start handing out some truly righteous asterisks to every single Record on the Books before '47 (and I don't...I accept Baseball in its imperfect form pre-Robinson just as I accept my imperfect friends, Family and fellow human Beings) then that shameful blackmark next to the Steroid Era with all its very public disgrace and perennial ignominy is fitting justice for the generation of egotistical cheaters of this very recent past and a sufficient warning to those Generations who may be considering shortcuts in the future.

Case Closed.

Stamp down the Asterisks and move on.

So where does this all leave us?

Same place as always. The Boys of Summer are revving up in spring Training and soon the Sun will be shining, the Flags waving in the warm wind, the grass will be lush and green as peanuts, popcorn, hot dogs and ice cold Beer is passed along to the friends sitting next to you in the stands as we all listen for those most magic of words-

“PLAY BALL!”

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Thanks for your patience.....

Please forgive me for my recent lack of activity on this site, I've been working hard on my other blog (Hey, cut me a little slack...they're paying me for that one) and I am also currently in training for an annual Team Race here in Kyoto (details at a later date) hence my time (working, posting, playing and drinking) has been severely curtailed while my responsibilities have unexpectedly multiplied.

However, lest you think that I've somehow neglected to notice and gratefully appreciate Life's Finer Things.....

And yet, perhaps due to my fatigue, I'm not quite sure.

Is this Beach Beauty subtly hinting at something?





Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm......

What...could.....it...........be?

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

709 Homesick Blues

Welcome to '09 Boys and Girls!
Yes....it's all ours whether we want it or not.

And in keeping with that gracious spirit...
Please joyfully sing along (you know..approximately) to the tune of Dylan's
"Subterranean Homesick Blues".

Can't quite recall that classic? Don't sweat.
I loaded it for you.


Big trouble in the Gaza Strip
Hezbollah let them rockets rip,
them Jews ain't
gonna take their shit
somebody
gonna get a Big Hit

And Blago's in a real bind
working hard to dodge his crime,
He said,
“Can't ya' see
I's only tryin'
real hard to make a dime,
you get yours
and I'll get mine!"
newspapers opine
Blago just may
do some time

Let's all bust a rhyme
'cuz
it's Two-Thousand Nine

but Our Money's
in a big mess
Congress in a recess
no body
wants to confess
ain't no way to redress

Better look out Kids
no matter what ya' did

'Cuz Bush is going bye-bye
ain't in range of
WiFi
Iraqi's wonderin' why why
I don't even want to
fly by
ain't no oil, why sigh
GI's still gettin' blown
sky high

It's all right, Folks
tho' it ain't no joke

China's growing
sideways
Russia's got the bills paid
oil's pumping
anyways
Japan's still building
freeways
neon light displays
shopping malls is all
the craze
but i can't find
my ways
like gettin' lost
inside a maze

Heads up Kids
we hitting the skids

Somali Pirates sailing
GM is bailing
newspapers failing
McCain done picked
Palin
and started coffin
nailing
don't start
wailing
'09 might be a
mail-in

Bin Laden's in a cave
or digging his grave

But I know there's some
Love-Love
even 'twixt the
Hawks and Doves
So maybe we can't get
above
all the Bullshit
push and shove

pretty girls everywhere
sharp legs and long hair
short skirts
high heels
can't cop a feel
what's the deal, get real
sweet lips
hot hips
and painted toes, don't say No
just say go
and don't no-show
then we'll get
our groove on
and we'll start to move on

So I got me some hope
tho' I might be a dope

You better save a penny
when you can
watch out for the Taxman
keep an eye on Iran
and any smokin'
frying pans
then steady scan
the secret plan
and hook up with the
Main Man

put down that smack
and lay off that crack

'Cuz in 13 days
Obama
drops the Hammer!