more idiotic rhyming

from 30k in debt to placing 60k on bets
coppin 100k per set, motivated by regret
when i was down mama said son don't fret
god gave you this life, so this is what you get

sorry mama but i refuse accept that
if gods pushin me then imma push back
and if god doesn't like it, he can meet me at my death

HOT OFF THE STOVE

Yo yo yo..time to spit some hot shit, here we go, here we go

Don't stress the finesse
no less than the best
class is beginning
go grab a desk
life's a pop quiz
and you failed the test
your flow is lookin dreary
your rhythm is a mess
while your style's under duress
again let me stress
this in not an opinion
that i am the best
while you choke on my spit
i just caress, the leather on my bentley
and them double d chests
your bitch can attest
poppin loads on her chest
walk in to a club
with no bulletproof vest
all the players they love me
haters already put to rest
You don't have to call me god
but on the the 7th day i rest


yeahhh boiieeeeeee

Hear.

The rain softly spoke to me, it said "don't go"

The cold kept quietly whispering in my ear "You don't have to leave"

The bedsheet, bathed in our body heat and embracing, asked me "Why don't you stay?"

The blanket, old and wise, guarding over us like a sentry in dawn told me "Move close to her"

Her hair, flowing like an untamed river on the pillow ground, beautiful in it's indecision of flow, murmmered to me "Come near me, I smell of comfort and familiarity"

Her skin, smooth and young, a terrain of familiar features and markings reminding me of home, requested from me "Come feel my warmth"

Upon the first caress, the first landing she turned and enveloped me with her arms, holding me close, still asleep, probably holding on a sweet dream and my body screamed to me "don't move, just stay, there's peace in her arms, a kind the world has never known"

All the while the minutes mocked me, shouting "This will all end"
Each minute more condescending than the last
Each minute growing more irksome as it neared it's end.
Losing it's precious few seconds, it saved it's last breath to tell me the futility of it all.
Each minute sent by the world to drag me closer to our eventual reunion.

Then her warm breath on my neck drowned out the minute's voice
Her scent quieting all, friend and foe, speaking only to me it said "Let it be, just let it be"

and that's all I needed to hear.

GET BACK TO YOUR INDIE MUSIC

I know currently it's cool to call yourself a "nerd" or a "geek" but please stop. Sadly, in this age of 80s revival, green movement, hipsters and yuppies invading every facet of life, everything previously considered uncool has become cool again. But in the interest of helping fad devouring, culture zombies (aka Hipsters) I will point out why if you currently own any t-shirts declaring your nerd or dork or geek status please throw them away and go back to your vintage Sex Pistols tees.

Reasons why you most likely are not a nerd:

1) Remembering cheesy old 80s cartoons and using them as references during your 80s theme home parties does not make you a nerd. Thundercats = nostalgia, not a derogatory status.

2) A nerd doesn't call himself a nerd. Think about it.

3) The word means and implies the anti-thesis of everything popular. See the problem with you calling yourself a nerd because it's cool! Retard. It doesn't express your individuality because the term is applied to you, not given to oneself....and no, your equally douchy hipster friend calling you a nerd doesn't count.

4) If you can't name 10 flavors of Linux right off the top of your head...you're not a nerd. Add -100 points if you're reading this on a Mac....then most likely you aren't even PC proficient.

5) If you haven't stayed up till 4 in the morning on a Saturday entangled in a heated debate about quantum oscillations or angiogenesis on science message boards (Yes, those things long before before Myspace, Facebook and Twitter) then you're not a nerd.

6) Steve Wozniak, Bill Gates, Silvano de Gennaro, and Ray Tomlinson. These guys are nerds. If you have to Google these names up to know their relevance (besides Bill Gates) then you, my friend, are not a nerd.

7) Have you taught yourself a programming language? (HTML doesn't count) Have you ever dreamt about a perfect OS? Right down to imagining the best filing system? Does the idea of Quantum computers excite you? Quick: What's a teraflop?

8) Your idea of upgrading your computer is buying the new refresh of MAC. That's just sad.

9) You actually care where your pima cotton, enzyme washed, vintage feel tees come from. You wear skinny jeans and paid more than $50 for them. Add +100 points if you know what Pima cotton is. You look in the mirror before you leave your house.

10) Forget Mountain Dew, you don't even touch soda of any kind.

11) You own clothes for special occasions that actually fit and are fashion relevant past year 2000.

12) You haven't named your pets X, Y and Z.

So hopefully the above mentioned points can help you figure out whether you are, in fact, a bonafide nerd, or someone who simply does what is perceived as cool. Please read carefully and respect the status. There are men of value who are labeled as nerds...you most likely aren't one of them.

GOING RETRO: QUEEN OF NO KING

Wrote this while at my VERY FIRST job, doing security on a cold day with no jacket on. I got bored so this came out...


Queen of no king.

How oft she bore sanguine tears,
Nigh a trickle when the albatross flew
How oft the bell rang clandestine melancholy,
Nigh the screams, a shrieking few.

How oft she hummed the sirens hymns,
Nigh the letters lit ablaze: canvases of morose whims.
How oft the baited breath flows along the swaying willow,
How oft her anxious hands swam in the satin below.

The lady of the land weeps gently in her prayers.
The queen of no king rifes the ocean with stares.
The queens gaze steadfast evermore,
as the sanguine tears doth know
the king shall return nevermore.

GOING RETRO: PAPER FLOWERS

I wrote this around the time I started to lose faith in god and religion....it's quite old, found it by chance lying around my room.

Paper Flowers


We were the paper flowers
In likeness of god.
Promised great fortunes, and
Thought’s piercing sword


We came heavens blazing,
We rose from the beast.
Shed the cover of nature’s wild
And kept it in hidden keeps.


We were the paper flowers
Natures last child
To appease our content
We caressd our inner wild.


Smudged, torn and shredded
The longer we grew
Our strength in our pain
We did what we did because he was true.


Lost we are
We were the paper flowers
But look at us now
Burned in our own power.


Let the fire burn
There are still a standing few
But they are paper flowers,
They’ll burn too.


Let them out and see
the escaped, hidden truth
The garden of our life is fading,
Burning with us too.


We were the paper flowers
In god’s name we mend
We are the crumbling ashes now
In god’s name we shall end.

GOING RETRO: COLORS

More, very old, pieces.

Colors

Eyes closed,
I am surrounded by serene black as it tip toes around me.
Rested, I open my eyes and I am,
enveloped by the sun kissed blue.
As I lift my head from the pale glow sand,
I gain sight of the quiet, thundering green.
A smile begins to form on my face.
I turn to my left to see the ever lasting you,
There and then I realize,
The colors of my life are complete.

GOING RETRO: BOY'S DREAM.

An old, old, old, old OLD piece.



Boy's Dream


We moved the stars with our fingers
and watch them take shape as the
spaceships float on by

All in a boy's dream

We take gentle steps from one moon
to the next and fall
into an ocean of toys

All in a boy's dream

You enter his world as a moonlit silhouette
and he dreams of us following the animals
in the safari throughout the night.

all in his dreams

When each night passes he wakes up a man
strong and willing, all untill you
put your arms around him and smile like you do.
Clock turns back and he is just a
boy again, dreaming of you and I
moving the stars with our fingers as
the spaceships float on by.


Dreaming of you makes him happy and
whenever he is in your arms he
is that boy he used to be...

...and I never want to let go.

TIPS FOR WOMEN: 5 WAYS TO GET DRUNK FOR FREE

In my regular attempts to help the ladiesssssss figure out the very simple corssword puzzle that is man I present to you:

HOW TO GET A MAN TO BUY YOU DRINKS.


Ask yourself...

Do you think you're a beautiful woman who shouldn't have to pay for her own drinks?

Do you think that equality has a glass ceiling of equal pay, equal benefits and equal right, that all the rest is a man's duty?

Do you have best friends named Mercedes or Lexus who have a net worth equivlent of an 89 Corolla? Can't depend on them for a drunken night out right...

Why should a woman, in this day and age have to pay for her own drinks or even food for that matter? SHE SHOULDN'T. Women today have too much to deal with. Having to pay your way through life fairly is not an option in a hectic world of best friend dating dramas, sex and the city marathons on TBS, general bitching and moaning, PMS...I mean come on, how much does the menstrual cycle suck!!! huh...huh and men, those evil bastards.

(NOTE: Being a manly, man, that I am, who has no worries of menstrual cycle I really don't know what PMS feels like and thank the good lord I don't, frankly speaking...ya'll bitches get buck wild on that shit)

Clearly financial decision concerning water with 2 drops of liquior in it at NYC (or any major city) clubs does not have a place in a modern woman's life. So I present a general list of ideas, tips and helpful hints to get you going on your way of financial freedom.

Never again will you spend a dime on your self. Men make 25% more than woman, so you should make sure they spend that 25% on YOU, you and you alone.

REMEMBER THE FOLLOWING ARE SUGGESTIONS ONLY. PRACTICE WITH CAUTION AND PUT YOUR OWN CREATIVE SPIN ON IT IF YOU DESIRE.



1) BODY LANGUAGE

Never underestimate the subtle, subconcious and concious visual cues your body language gives off to the opposite sex. This can be a very powerful tool in your advantage. You'll be drinking and making questionable moves and mistakes in no time with this simple tip.

Are you a misrebale, man hating, femi nazi who grows even angrier every minute she sits liquiorless and man less at a club while your busty, far more attractive friend is lighting up the floor? Well consider why this is so? Thats right, its your appaling body language. Do not sit in a club with your arms across your body, folded, screaming disinterest in all social interaction. Instead try this...

Lean back, facing opposite the bartender. Lean your torso on the bar and firmly spread your legs. Think Basic Instinct but with 90% less class. If you're wearing jeans then don't be afriad to scratch yourself. That screams familiar territory to a average guy. If you're in a miniskirt or evening dress then keep opening and closing your legs. This sends waves of air with hidden sexual cues towards the direction of your walking credit card. Same way Native Americans sent smoke signals, you send air signals by flapping your legs in rhythmic pattern. IT REALLY WORKS. Remember, body language is key.

2) PHYSICAL PROWESS

Ask any man; a woman that can tie a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue is a woman we wanna buy drinks for. Knowing how to do this doesn't acually mean you're a good kisser (actually all it means is that you have strong muscles) but this is all about illusion. You wanna give him and illusion that you're a sexy vixen who can kiss like a goddess and that you're not completely broke as shit and desperate for any alcohol to touch your broke ass lips.

Illusion is key...in more ways than one.

But whats this....you say you don't know how to do that? Don't worry. You don't have to be talented...in fact thats the reason you're doing this in the first place. A quick solution to this problem is to have pre tied knots handy in your bag, or wherever else you can have quick access. Three or four should be enough. You may reuse the knots when bar hopping. Simply place an untied cherry knot in your mouth, drop something on the floor and have the guy pick it up and Viola! place the tied one in your mouth and lo and behold...he is ordering you another glass of their finest boxed wine.

NOTE:This goes without saying but should be mentioned anyway. This technique works only when you have caught the attention of a man but are losing his interest or he is literally brain dead. Do not place untied cherry stems in your mouth in front of a random, rich, guy and come back 2 minutes later with a tied one. Its not believable and is, frankly, very creepy.

3)CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN, ABSENCE OF CLOTHING MAKES A WOMAN...DRUNK

Ever heard the famous saying "Less is more"? You know who said it? A satisfied drunk woman. She understood the age old secret of seducing a normal man, the powerful weapon every attractive woman has (technically a guy will buy a hideous girl drinks just to get her to cover up, so the weapon works both ways) NUDITY, and the near complete presence of it.

Low cut blouse, see through blouse, bras showing through, see through bras, no bras, revealing halter tops, tube tops...the possibilities are endless. Nature did not intend beautiful women to cover up. Name one animal or even a human being who was or is born clothed? None. You are born nude, and leave this Earth nude so get nude as much as you can in between those two monumentous occasions.

It is a proven scientific fact that there are intrinsic sexual urges in men associated with the very unique shape of a woman's breast. It is unlike any known shape in nature. Men love breasts, for example: Most delicious part of a chicken? Chicken breasts. Even in other species men find utter attraction to breasts. Women, you should use this to your complete advantage. I do not even have to mention the vagina and it's mesmirizing spell on men. Breasts should be more than enough to get you drunk and happy.

Like a wise man once said " So loosen that top, let em plop, and watch the men drop, as your drinkin don't stop"

(NOTE: That wise man is me)

4) PLAY THE PART

Roleplaying is a deep rooted part of humanity. From the ancient greek theater to the 10 billion dollars a year Hollywood industry, people love pretending to be something else and men love buying drinks for that exotic, different, woman.

You have a Louis Vetton bag, have a Yves Saint Laurent top, a beautiful Dolce & Gabbana skirt and the new Armani perfume exuding appeal....YAWWWNNN.

You've gone so out of your way to be trendy that you've rendered yourself utterly penniless in the process. Yet still, your blood alcohol level is in negative numbers and your bank account even lower. Why?...you're like everybody. No man cares.

How to remedy this? Roleplaying. It is a scientific fact that Catholic school girls are hot, hot, HOTTTT. From their seductive school clothing to their incredibly oppressed sexuality under a horribly strict religious doctrine. This screams sexuality. Get a cheap miniskirt, plaided, a plain white dress shirt tied in a knot (unlike the cherry stem, you don't have to use your mouth to tie this knot). You may not have passed basic algebra in school, or may not have even been to school all that much but you can pretend like you do with great sexuality oozing through. Little touches go a long way; reading glasses, thigh high stockings, school girl shoes and a yard stick. If you're dedicated then take a math textbook with you (which is really conceling 4 shot glasses). You'll be boozed up thinking that you're still actually in school in no time, even though most likely you work at a cubicle and walk dogs to make rent. But remember, roleplaying is key. Be different, be unique....


don't be you.

5) A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED

Hey! remember that broke ass friend of yours? Yeah, the same one who is looking to get to some free hootch just as desperately as you. Use her, use each other to your advantage. It is a proven scientific fact that 2 women making out will catch a guy's attention FASTER than lighting his own testicles on fire. Nothing turns on a alpha male bozo faster than 2 women making out. The appeal is so strong that the women don't even have to be very attractive, they can even be a mild pain to the eyes, it still works.

Just grab your friend and feel her up a little. Make very specific, yet smooth and subtle sexual moves towards your girlfriend. Run your finger down her face, lazily close your eyes as you do it. Stroke her hair or softly grab her neck as you lean towards her ears, but make sure you pass by very close proximity of her lips as your reach for her ears to utter something. This is will attract a man across a dance floor, bar, street, even another state. BE CAREFUL; THIS IS A VERY POWERFUL TECHNIQUE. This is always guaranteed to work. No questions asked. You and your broker or equally broke friend will be drunk and content in no time. Dignity is not a factor when money is concerned. Seriously...you could be in a wheelchair, with an eye patch and a parrot on your shoulder...as long as you're making out with another woman you'll be winning.



CAUTION; Combining tips 4 and 5 can cause diasterous results. Take every precaution when pretending to be a bi, catholic school girl, slut. A very volitile combination of false sexuality. Men will crumble in ecstasy.




Well there you have it. A little tip of the iceberg in a ocean of techniques of how seduce willing, horny, men. Don't have to be easy, just give the illusion that you are, because 95% of social mating game is an Illusion. Contrived lies and contrived appearences which we must yield to our advantage. Honesty never gets anyone drunk, an illusion of a better you does...

...Honestly.


Goodluck in your man hunting.

FOR MY PARENTS

UNCARVED



I remained a stone uncarved
a mere vision waiting to be
lost to see the world at large
untill my father's eyes were chiseled in me

I carved within me my mother's feet
so I should stand strong on the dreary roads
emboldened by my father's heart
that I may never fear letting go

I felt the breeze brush my face
wrapped my in my mother's skin
her blood rivered through my veins
so that I may feel the love of my kin

Etched upon me their lines of wisdom
chasms weaving with their echoes of age
my lips gashed with sorrowed whispers
in their pain resting the words of a sage.

I am my mother's mind
but warriors engaged, never to think the same
I am my father's thighs
though I carry burdens of a different name.

I am no more a god's creation
than a child born able and free
For I remained a stoned uncarved
and then my father's eyes were chisled in me.

QUEER AS FOLK: 20 OBSERVATIONS ABOUT THE GAYS.

Really interesting to say the least.

No, ladies, don't worry...i'm not gay. I'm very much straight. Womankind doesn't deserve such a travesty. I'm not a homophobe, nor afraid of my sexuality so I decided to go. It was for a birthday party for a friend.

Gay guys are just like every other guy except prettier and with much better jobs and female friends.


The club I went to wasn't the classiest of places, actually rather cheap for a club, but it had 3 floors and good music. Now for some of my generealized observations.

If the inividual reading this is gay and finds it offensive then i'm sorry.



1) Gay guys are very jealous. Saw 2 fist fights break out and 3 others squashed by security before more fists were thrown because some guy eyed some other guy's boyfriend.

2) Gay guys choreograph elaborate dances...I did not know this. Unlike us, heteros, who do the same bump-n-grind and "i think this is sex with clothing" type of dancing to every song that comes on (a total of exactly 8 different hip-hop songs that are played in every mainstream club), gay guys pull out elaborate dances involving 2-3 guys and very limber movements.

...sorta shameful straight people don't do this.

3) Gay guys, and lesbiens, seem to have sex drives of Latino rabbits. Sensual grinding and excessive crotch gyrating is not only rampant, it's a requisite.

4) There is atleast 1 single best friend female for a party of 4 gay guys partying together. This is the female who is secretly in love with her gay best friend and is patiently waiting for him to change and recognize her as his true love.

5)...that girl is usually old and overly excited about everything.

6) You will feel fat in a gay club. Period.

7) Lesbiens in NYC are....well let's just say to each his own.

8) Observation/question: Why are lesbiens so angry? They seem to come to a club just to fight..

9) I enjoyed techno music more than I thought I would.

10) Gay guys are immune to paralyzing strobe lights.

Where a normal man (as I was in the club) feel faint, dizzy, and develop a mild case of vertigo in super bright LED strobe lights laiden dance floor, gay guys can easily navigate and adapt to them.

Most can even wear dark sunglasses in an already dark nightclub and still be impervious to strobe lights.

11) Question/observation: Are gay guys generally light weights? Even weak drinks do their magic in 2-3 rounds.

12) You will be the fattest one in a gay club. Period.

13) There are more straight guys in a gay club than one would expect. Kudos.

14) Go-go dancers are not human. Thye are carved out of stone.

15) Younger gay guys are not big fans of courtesy or the phrase "excuse me"

16) The homosexuals know how to have fun. Us straight people do not know what fun is. We know drunken debauchery, suggestive dancing, sad excuses to fit in...Gay people know how to have fun.

17) I was let into the bathroom ahead of the line because the next in line said I was cute.

18) I still ponder as to why that was such an ego boost.

19) There are more six packs in a gay club than a liquor store. Very few keggers.

20) No, as most homophobe guys like to think, a gay guy doesn't want you, won't hit on you, or think you're attractive.

No, gay guys do not salvate over every ass they see on the street on every guy.

They're picky, very picky.





extra observation: They'd probably want me though, i got to skip the bathroom line.

THE TIMELY TELLING TALES OF TIMMY THE TOOL

It's a bit sad, but a necessary, fact of life that everything, from the smallest to the biggest, is generalized into a certain category at one point or another. Is it because there is so much to see and do in this world that there exists no other way to survive with so much stimulus bombarding the human mind? That we need to prescribe certain qualities to everything for a less filling, but, ultimately far more bearable, experience? I guess so. I certainly am a practitioner of this technique and everyone who says they aren't are liars.

We do this to people by attaching religious, ethnic, nationalistic, physical, economic and dozens of other types of stereotypes to them. We do this to animals too (I.e See a tiger = run, because all tigers hate people , whereas you see a kitten = pet and possibly steal out of adorable greed). These devices seem to serve many purposes; As a coping mechanism, a sort of a buffer for the mind, a defense mechanism, a tool honed out of our perpetual fear of everything. But generalizations, for the most part, are earned. Tigers, throughout history, had to attack many unsuspecting, confused, innocent and stupid people to earn their basic reputation of being malignant sourpusses. Even people earn their stereotype stripes. Now what about stereotypes forged, not out of fear, but out of supreme douchebaggery? Stereotypes that didn't need to exist, but do, solely due to the unwavering doucheness of it's holder. Who do I speak of you say? BMW drivers of course.

I, personally, love BMWs. They are beautiful, powerful machines that are supremely fun to drive and they hold their resale value extremely well They are especially more attractive to me because I do not come close to being able to afford one. So I wonder at what point did BMW's awesomeness got lost in translation when it comes to their owners. To be more frank; why are most of them such tools on and off the road? I do not personally know many BMW owners but I had the chance to get to know one. Within the first 5 minutes of our acquaintance it became apparent that a girthy turd log, laid by me, then dressed up in doll clothes with toy eyes attached would exude far more character and personality than the BMW owning gentleman. I presumed it would also be more intelligent and hold a conversation better. I am sure my presumtion would still hold up correct. That is not to say all BMW owners are less appealing than homemade turd dolls...no, just this particular gentleman I met.

The road is where the BMW drivers really shine in their white knuckle douchebaggery. Is there something about German engineering that causes the human mind to lose all courtesy and respect for their fellow human beings on the road? Do the autobahn inspired ponies alter the perception of the driver to make it seems as if the other cars weren't moving along with them, but rather standing still for the amusement of the driver to weave in and out and around of. Must be the case because I can't spot a BMW on a highway not displaying such exemplary behavior of master tooldom. Granted the 3 series is slightly more inspired than my 97 sentra, that, however, does not grant the owner a douche license to treat drivers like dirt on the road. It is almost an assured phenomenon to see a BMW careening in and out of traffic with such an aggressive mean streak that it makes you wonder if each single one is carrying a woman going into labor. Maybe BMW's do make it radically easy for tools to knock up women and then 9 months later drive them to an hospital mid-labor.

In the collection of douchetards and toolbag gallery of BMW drivers, none is more perverse and prolific than the young "daddy's money" Beemer driving male douche. Most often spiky haired and Armani donned, this brand of uber-douche driver is the reason I am almost ashamed to even like such a fine automobile. The thought of someone even mildly associating me with these t-bags is unnerving. Oh, how I long to feel the thundering vibrations exuding from gravel shattering, torque producing, sex machine that is the BMW 3 series but slowly (or it may already have been) the sex appeal is being turned into a collective distaste for BMWs. All because of aggressive and dickly nut sacks who take every opportunity to remind other drivers on the road the power of a rich parent's wallet. I can only envision these beloved progenies spending the better part of their day at the gym and then getting ready to meet up with their other douche like friends for a night out of chasing girls (HINT* harassing) and generally engaging in their nightly doucheathon. There may come a day when I gain enough monetary momentum to afford this German anmut, though, unfortunately, from that day on I'll ride under the shadows of these dillholes. Plagued by the constant stares of other judging me, deeming me the likes of them...

and that gets my goat. Boy does that get my goat. That grabs my goat by its goaty neck and sodomizes it violently and repeatedly. I feel a deep sense of sorrow for me and non-dickweed BMW owners. Those who trust and respect the power of their wheels. Those who aspire to be above the rising populace of tool time Beemer riders...

..all 3-4 of you. Yes, every car which is popular has its negative stereotypes ( I am looking at you balding Vette dudes and Fire Island time share owning Miata guys) but none bears more examples than the undeserving BMW. The Miata queens aren't hellbent on chasing me off the road in their rush to get somewhere, neither is the mid-life crisis Corvette rider gaining on me at supersonic speed, only to cut me off and give me a metaphorical middle finger. No, BMW driving douche...you do that. Only you.


...and maybe some Benz owners.

OHHHH SORRY....FORGOT MY WALLET, MA BAD.

I am not a big fan of reality TV shows. Infact, I pretty much despise them. I know I am in a small minority but, to me, scripted shows are far better and interesting. So surprisingly I've been watching Fox's new show secret millionaire simply because it's actually a decent concept, not an offensive slap to human intelligence. The show's concept is that a multi-millionaire spends a week living below the poverty line in an area they would deathly avoid otherwise. They must seek out worthy people in their neighborhood and give away at least $100,000 of their money. Brilliant idea really. Cheap to produce, humanitarian, and a general good karma vibe all around...

...I liked it. Even though the show is still fairly scripted (i.e. the rich pretenders magically run into someone from a charity upon their first day...or how the self-introductory neighbor never wonders why there are cameras in the front lawns of the new neighbors. Maybe they're filming their poverty and that, in turn, is what is making them poor...maybe). The millionaires genuinely seemed to be touched by the people they meet and the people who end up receiving the money are those un-sung heroes of society who are not sexy enough to be mentioned otherwise.

So far I've seen three episodes and the last one I saw genuinely pissed me off. Not Fox's fault, but that of the cheap fuck who gave away his money.

The first episode was brilliant because even though the rich dude had to only give away $100,000, he was so touched that he gave away $100,000 EACH to three different people he met. That's heartfelt. In the second episode the millionaire gave away $50,000 to three different people for a total of $150,000 and he donated his customized, brand new, car. That's close to $200,000. Very admirable. But not the cheap fuck in last night's episode. No, he couldn't even be bothered to comply with the shows regulations...and this from a man who is supposedly worth $300 million. Yes Million. That's equivalent of having thousands of dollars but you can't afford to spring for $5 more.

He gave away money to 4 different locations and people. Now remember; the shows states that the millionaires have to give away at least $100,000 of their own money.

He gave $35,000 to a soup kitchen, $35,000 to a church, $10,000 to the Church director and $10,000 to single mother from Puerto Rico, now living in San Francisco. Count it, that's $90,000. This cheap fuck couldn't even see it to fulfill the most basic obligations whereas the other's went above and beyond. What a douche sized asshole thing to do. Yeah he didn't have to give a penny to begin with but he signed up for this, this will be a tax write off for him, and he invaded these people's lived under a guise of poverty. He lied to them.

Hell, the poor people have the right to be mad at him. Funny enough his name was Gurbaksh...which in Punjabi means "god forgive"...suitable name for a cheap dipwad. He cried multiple times out of being so touched but he wasn't touched enough to touch his wallet a little deeper. My best guess is he will use the remaining $10,000 left to buy puppies and kittens, and shoot them in front of a crowd of sick and dying children.

Because he lives on a diet of small children's tears and fear.

If I miscounted and or missed something then I'll gladly admit fault and spare him a little more. It still stands that if you have three hundred million you can live to part with much more than hundred thousand. Especially for the people who made you cry, in a good way. I'll admit that I am being sensationalist and bull-headed like so many others but who cares...absoluetely no one reads this blog.


P.S How did these people became millionaires? Most of them don't even enough sense to apply basic logic when shopping for food. I thought self-made millionaires got that way out of their business sauvy and eye for details others miss. Seriously, $98 is way more than enough for groceries for one week for 1-2 people. There shouldn't struggle with that amount.