DEATH: The Only Freedom For Sad Saps Skinned By Marriage and Regular Drink

Two Cougars

Sure as Hell You Girls Look Dis Like Lawyers

Jermaine is a recovering alcoholic.

And a former jehovah’s witness.

Susan is a divorced cougar.

Each of them in their own special way will dutifully slide into the harnesses slipped onto them by their friends, co-workers and acquaintances and will prove themselves hardy stock by pulling this and an entire boat-load of cultural class crap until they gasp their final labeled breath.

Should you happen to spy either of these aforementioned characters with a booze based beverage or a handsome man of obviously jewish descent you can bet your bottom dollar that some old habits requiring the cleaning of several malodorous fans are coming home to roost.


Because our societies are so incorrigibly addicted to being LOOPY. (Labels Of Our Past Y’all!)

I Got So Many Names For Me Ain’t No Room Left For Yours

Too many people mistakenly think that they ALONE hold all their name calling cards or that they have the exclusive right to assemble or add to their own baggage but nothing could be further from the truth.

In fact, right now, people who know you are conspiring to hang at least one more label on you because new names are being called every day and these hallmarks stick like shite to a blanket so dodging them is nearly a complete waste of time.

Just grab yourself a luggage cart and pile on the gear because we’ve got some miles to make and maybe somewhere along the way we can learn to carry these rucksacks with pride instead of conformity.

Cause names don’t last forever less we make ’em.

Thank you, friend.

Barry out.

See how Rev. Tupac describes it.

“Thugz Mansion”
(feat. Anthony Hamilton)

Shit, tired of gettin shot at
Tired of gettin chased by the police and arrested
Niggaz need a spot where WE can kick it
A spot where WE belong, that’s just for us
Niggaz ain’t gotta get all dressed up and be Hollywood
Y’knahmean? Where do niggaz go when we die?
Ain’t no heaven for a thug nigga
That’s why we go to thug mansion
That’s the only place where thugs get in free and you gotta be a G
… at thug mansion

[Verse One]
A place to spend my quiet nights, time to unwind
So much pressure in this life of mine, I cry at times
I once contemplated suicide, and woulda tried
But when I held that 9, all I could see was my momma’s eyes
No one knows my struggle, they only see the trouble
Not knowin it’s hard to carry on when no one loves you
Picture me inside the misery of poverty
No man alive has ever witnessed struggles I survived
Prayin hard for better days, promise to hold on
Me and my dawgs ain’t have a choice but to roll on
We found a family spot to kick it
Where we can drink liquor and no one bickers over trick shit
A spot where we can smoke in peace, and even though we G’s
We still visualize places, that we can roll in peace
And in my mind’s eye I see this place, the players go in fast
I got a spot for us all, so we can ball, at thug’s mansion

[Chorus: Anthony Hamilton]
Ain’t no place I’d rather be
Chillin’ with homies and family
Sky high, iced out paradise
In the skyyyyyyyyyy..
Ain’t no place I’d rather be
Only place that’s right for me
Chromed out mansion in paradise
In the skyyyyyyyyyy..

[Verse Two]
Will I survive all the fights and the darkness?
Trouble sparks, they tell me home is where the heart is, dear departed
I shed tattooed tears and couldn’t sleep good
for multiple years, witness peers catch gunshots
Nobody cares, seen the politicians ban us
They’d rather see us locked in chains, please explain
why they can’t stand us, is there a way for me to change?
Or am I just a victim of things I did to maintain?
I need a place to rest my head
with the little bit of homeboys that remains, cause all the rest dead
Is there a spot for us to roll, if you find it
I’ll be right behind ya, show me and I’ll go
How can I be peaceful? I’m comin from the bottom
Watch my daddy scream peace while the other man shot him
I need a house that’s full of love when I need to escape
the deadly places slingin drugs, in thug’s mansion

[Chorus w/ minor ad lib variations]

[Verse Three]
Dear momma don’t cry, your baby boy’s doin good
Tell the homies I’m in heaven and they ain’t got hoods
Seen a show with Marvin Gaye last night, it had me shook
Drippin peppermint Schnapps, with Jackie Wilson, and Sam Cooke
Then some lady named Billie Holiday
Sang sittin there kickin it with Malcolm, ’til the day came
Little LaTasha sho’ grown
Tell the lady in the liquorstore that she’s forgiven, so come home
Maybe in time you’ll understand only God can save us
When Miles Davis cuttin lose with the band
Just think of all the people that you knew in the past
that passed on, they in heaven, found peace at last
Picture a place that they exist, together
There has to be a place better than this, in heaven
So right before I sleep, dear God, what I’m askin
Remember this face, save me a place, in thug’s mansion

Lyrics courtesy:


6 Responses to “DEATH: The Only Freedom For Sad Saps Skinned By Marriage and Regular Drink”

  1. Whoa! I just realized that you have to drink three decent wines and maybe even have a hoot for any of this stuff to make sense!

    Actually, I’ve been told that even THAT may not be enough to catch the drift but I assure you, that’s the direction you want to head in.

    At least, that’s where I left it.

  2. I don’t care about the rest, but they’ve got great tits!!!


  3. You got that right and by the look in their eyes, they know how to use ’em, too.

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  6. I needed that. Thanks.

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