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We may not love corrupt government, but we must love our country.
SING TO ME MUSE, OF VELOUR AND THE MANthe dooming sting of the slams that ruined so manythe chumps and the bustas hurled headlong into gloomto sip bitter cola with the sluts and kinky-haired hoes,dollar store shit, not even brand-name;thus was the will of Zeus.Begin with the wit of that lord--the Ultimate Hustlerwho descended like night upon the bright shoresof unfortunate Troy where the Achaeans all camped.As the sun in his splendor, spangles his raysupon the folds of the sea when the day is just dawningso too was the light that came from the mouthof that merciless pimp, for nigga he hadhella fine platinum up in his grill.And seeing the masses of Grecians, a full generationset for ten years in grim siege on the sandthe Hustler rattled his cane, a thunderous funkand made known his will."Well well wellguess now be a good time to buy stock in coconut oil and cock ringssince y’all look like you ready to storm Fire Island and start a pride parade.First time I seen a fleet of ships using they momma’s dirty drawers as sails.That ain’t no Mycenaean insignia, that just where she couldn’t reach around ta wipe.An do I see Odysseus sticking gettin rutty with that handmaid? Ima call Ithaca,tell em they all need to file a missin bustas report.”All through the camp, men fell transfixedlaid out by the insults that poured like hard rainupon the wearied and weak. It seemed as a plaguethat ran through the ranks, a vast rippling breathlike when the wind, blown black in the dusktouches the grain and withers the stalksand the farmers they gather what once was fine cropand set it to torch to weep at the flames.Mighty Achilles, a lion in temper, stepped onto the shorefrom his proud flanks flashed fierce indignationat the Ultimate Hustler, the man like dark wine all richly attired.When kings go out hunting, they bring with them dogs,tightly-haunched hounds with foam on their teeth.The pack is arrayed, and now catches the scentof a rabbit or stag and strains at the leash,their limbs at the ready, their eyes full of death,and finally their master loosens the reinso was the wrath of Achilles that long had lain quiet,now aimed at the Hustler and hot for its prey.“Whether you bea dark Ethiopian far from your home or elsea sunburnt man from a sunburnt land, Achillescares not. You now forfeit your life.”So said Achilles, and drew forth his spear, the heft on his shoulderthe point all of bronze and, taking his aim, hurled it full forcelike a bolt from Olympus.But Mandingo was watching,god of the Dozens, and turned it astray.All there assembled, Achaean and Trojan, saw Achilles’ first failureand soon wicked Rumor, with her venom and bile, started to whisperthat ain’t nobody choked that bad since yo mommatry deepthroating a Titan.The Hustler boomed out his mirth.“Next time you wanna give me yo shaft, make believe I’m Patroclus’ stankholeand there ain’t no way you missin. Oh I forgot, Hector currently using that bitchas a hood ornament. Take him down to the kennels, he metamorphoseinto kibbles and bits. That nigga, he dead.And what up with that armor? Shit’s tacky. Bet that breastplate come with a hornplay “Lowrider” when you goosesteppin through the ranks.Ain’t it bad enough you got grease face? Been, what, twenty years since yo mommadip you in tha Styx, and the Hades EPA still tryin to clean the oil slick,declaring it unfit for animal habitation.My nigga Charon spark up a fatty, throw the match overboard,shit goes up like Mt Etna.”Mighty Achilles groaned like the ocean, let fall his arms to the ash at his feet.Betaken by sorrow, he sought out his tent and the drowse of his haremwhere black-visaged grief crept from the shadows. Like the waxes of Hyblait muzzled his mind, stopped up his ears, made deaf his heartto all the sweet pleas of men and immortals.Just at that moment, the figure of Helen, awake in the city,appeared on the walls. King Menelaos, the chariot driver,gnashed all his teeth and raged at the dayshe was promised as prize to craven Prince Parisand doomed distant Troy.She was spied by the Hustler.“Shit, ain’t it the daughter of Leda and a swan.Bitch squirt up a douche, get a bowful of duck soup.That the face launched a thousand ships? They all mustagone looking for that most mythical of treasures, cure for dick blisters.Only time the topless towers of Ilium get burned is when they go take a leak,get funky discharge look like something Cerberus leave on yo carpet.Bitch been ploughed more times than the winedark sea. YeahI droppin some poetical shit here. Fuck ya if ya hatin.Everyone heard Helen so tough and hangly down there, she legally obligatedto have the Arby’s logo tattooed on her snatch.Priam still around? Get him out here.That nigga so old, last time he manage to pop wood,Pandora’s box just got some peach fuzzand Priapus’ balls ain’t even drop yet.This some brokedown city y’all got here. Couple thousand years, Heinreich Schliemanndig this place up, wonder what the hell the luddy convention was doin in town.All looking like somebody built a group home for Cyclops crackheads.”His counsel at end, the Hustler arose and took to the airin the form of a bird, feathers jet-black, leaving all stunned.Sometime a hunter when the race has been runsurveys the beast his arrows brought low,admires the flank and the struggling faint breaths,and though its life is near gone strings one last shaftto take cold delight in an unneeded wound.So now the Hustler, in no haste to leave,flung finally a barb down into the field.“First I thought that wicker tinker toy was the Trojan Horse,but now y’all inside it, I see it just a raggedy-assed fruit basket.And yo toga look like a dishrag.”Tearing her hair, Queen Hecuba ledher waxen-faced ladies in an ebon processionto Athena’s white temple, hoping the goddesswould pity their plight, grant Troy gray-eyed mercy.Greeks and Dardanians, all there assembled, hearing the wailadded their voices to the keening and cryingand it is said that even Olympus covered its facefor the great lamentation:“Damn.”
I don't know where else I am ever gonna have a chance to post this, but I have wanted to for a while. Please enjoy.-ingwit
tl;dr
Tearing her weave, Queen Hecuba
I haven't seen this much downs syndrome since I saw the video of Sugarhoe's family reunion.
ftfy Witch
