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Ya Magu Gavarit Pa Ruskie

I originally composed this back around 2001, but I got a Peavey amplifier and a Fender Squire, so I was able to re-record it this year.

I never gave this composition a name, but the rhythm from this actually helped me learn one phrase in Russian: “Ya magu gavarit pa Ruskie.”

“I speak Russian.”

The devushkas (young, unmarried Russian women) would laugh when I finished it with: “Angliski nyet!”

That means, “English, no.”

And that’s technically true.

I used to, anyway.  I was chasing the Russian and Armenian tails in my apartment complex in Van Nuys, California back then.  Nice-looking girls-and with manners!

You don’t see that in Los Angeles-especially in the San Fernando Valley.  The Valley is the Detroit of Porn, you know.  That actually makes sense when you consider the fact that General Motors used to build the Camaro and the Firebird there.

One sleek body design for another sleek body design, I always say.

Keep in mind that I actually have severe brain damage and that I really should not have any ability to do this.  So, shove that up your right-wing ass, Crescent Hardy.

I’m so glad that bastard lost his bid for re-election!  It would just be great if he had a severe stroke or a spine-crushing automobile accident, because either one of those couldn’t happen to a more humane son-of-a-whore.

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Letter to a Boss

Dear Boss,

No one likes you.

Your wife hates you and the kid is actually the poolboy’s.

Your 19-year-old squeeze swallows you so she doesn’t have to pay the rent on that condo in Malibu or her college education at UCLA-and even she told me that she’d rather have the quarterback fuck her.  She referred to something anatomically.  I wasn’t really paying too much attention because I was staring at her huge tits at the time.

Did you pay for those or is she mountain grown?

Three of us tried to wire your new Mercedes last week, but we obviously suck at it.  We asked for a raise and you won’t let us unionize.

“Tell me something I don’t know.  How’d you get this job you own?  I think that all you need is a; all you need is a; all you need IS A FACE!  Now it’s dark, but I can see.  DON’T YOU FUCKING LOOK AT ME!” (Anthrax-“Now It’s Dark” from State of Euphoria, 1988)

Did you ever think about behaving like Sir Richard Branson instead of acting like the Walton family?   His employees actually respect him!  Just because you wear a suit doesn’t mean you’re worth much of anything.  Actually, the suit makes you a bigger pain in the ass than anything else.


Your disgruntled employees who are underpaid and never appreciated.

PS:  The secretary took out a life insurance policy on your ass yesterday because we know you have no heart, you fat, balding fuck.

Have a nice day, asshole.