Class, What Have We Learned Today?
Same shit we should have learned the literal last three times.
Y’all know how the tide ebbs and flows around here. If all I can listen to is the gangster shit, it’s because I’ll cry like a ho if I stop to think about anything other than my highly impressive retention of lyrics.
I’m a fucking savant; we’re talking 1994 tape out of a trunk 8Ball all the way to that punk ass kid in Jacksonville with the grill who’s getting some play. He’s not bad actually, and he makes me laugh.
So animated.
If I had a larger ego, I swear I would rap every one of these columns to y’all. Sadly, I do not.
I am, however, working on that at this very moment.
All that to say, there is quite literally no reason I keep sitting here looking like a fucking sucker. It’s not like I can’t recall what happened in the not-so-distant past.
I can.
I remember everything from “hello” to “fuck off”, I simply choose to act like it’s a huge surprise when I’m kicked in the fucking teeth.
Duh.
If this were a situation where I was paid for not learning a damned thing, everyone would be getting a fat ass check for Christmas. If this was one of those scenarios where my fuckery could win an award, I’d be sporting a new tiara and sash.
Lo and behold, friends and fucking neighbors, it’s the man with the roses here to declare my new title.
Applause, please.
*so awesome. It’s really just so fucking awesome.*
Maybe I have a mental defect. A short in my wiring. Maybe all of those lyrics are preventing me from retaining key information that I really should commit to memory.
If I’m being honest, though, I’d much rather keep the lyrics than remember how shitty some people behave when you let them think they have free run of the joint.
Like poorly trained puppies. Chewing through your favorite shoes and pissing on the floor.
Where in the fuck is my newspaper?
It’s time to start slapping it around and making a racket. Obviously, I’ve been much too lenient up to this point.
I’m in my Cruella era now.
Fuck those puppies.
-Q
Riiiiiggghht