The Confidant

 

 

“Women want to make everything complicated,” Farley’s new friend says to him. “Especially sex. They can’t just enjoy it, gotta make it…

“Complicated, right!” Farley takes another sip of over-priced motel lounge well whiskey. He looks across the table at Kyle…Newsome? Newman? Newsome, newsomething. Better slow down on the drinkies.  It occurs to him that maybe he shouldn’t confide in a barroom buddy in an unfamiliar town, the last stop on Farley’s  sales route, and his last chance to maybe slip a roofie in some bitch’s drink.

But there’re  no women in the place. Just the two of them, the bartender, Tony, and two army guys about to be shipped overseas.  The soldiers were spending their bonus keeping the jukebox running, and the country crap was about to drive him mad.

He turns back to Kyle, who was sliding a fresh drink across the table to him. Tony was already back at the bar, rag in hand. What the Hell, Kyle doesn’t know me, what car I’m driving, I’m not even checked in to this place. Never take the chance of meeting in the morning your conquest of the previous night.  It’s all just hearsay anyway.

The urge to tell someone his secret had grown stronger, and liquor had pushed the desire to share visions of what he would do, had done,  to irresistible levels.

Kyle coughs. Farley sees  his glass raised in anticipation of a toast. His glass was half-empty, Farley had  yet taken a sip. Time to show who’s the drinker here.

The glasses clink together. “To new friends and old secrets.”  Kyle winks at the end of the toast.  The whiskey tastes better this round, and the burn is just a warm feeling spreading through Farley’s body.

Farley’sets his glass down with a bang. Tony gives him a quick look. Screw him, he gets all the tail he wants. Gives ‘em free liquor, get’s ‘em buzzed. Same thing I do, my way’s quicker, ‘s’all.

Farley makes his decision. This guy Kyle, he’s alright, bought most of the rounds, the room’s spinning some now. He fumbles in his shirt pocket, one of the capsules falls into his lap, then out of sight somewhere under the chair, the other lands on the table between the two men. Kyle looks up from the roofie and smiles.

“You make sure they put out on the first date. ”

”You betcha, end the debate. I like to get ‘em back in the room before they can’t stand, they stop talking before that point. “

Kyle snorted.“I’m big enough to carry ‘em back to the room myself.”

“But…. that attacks….attracts,…. ‘tention.” Farley leans down to pick up the fallen knockout pill.

Kyle picks him up from the floor, puts him back in the chair. He waves off Tony, who had started over with a cold rag. “And a big guy like me can hold a lot more liquor.”

“My roommate has had a little too much, I’m afraid.” One of the soldiers laughs, pokes his buddy, who chuckled without looking up from his phone.

Farley tries to look up at Kyle, but his head seem to suddenly weigh too much, and any verbal protesting of his mistaken status as a lodger was going to be limited to moans and gags.  Kyle, now sitting in the chair next to Farley, keeps him from sliding onto the floor again. He pushes Farley upright against the seatback, and holds him there . Moving in close enough that Farley could feel the man’s whiskers against his cheek, and smell his cologne, Kyle whispers in his ear.

“Yeah, it does attract attention.” Kyle said, continuing the conversation, “ But not so much when you walk out of a bar with a man in your arms instead of a helpless woman.”

He answers a questioning grunt as if a star pupil had posed a pertinent query.
“When you went to use the restroom, second to last drink, that’s when I decided you were my sugar tonight.”
His left hand slides under Farley’s thighs.
“When you showed me Your pills, I knew it was fate that brought us together.”
Kyle wraps his right arm around the inert man’s ribcage, lifts Farley out of the chair, cradling him like a baby, and gazes into his face just as tenderly. “Let’s blow this joint, lover.”
“Get the door for me, Tony?”

“Sure thing, Mr…Newton, right?

“Close enough.” Kyle assures him as he carried Farley towards the exit, “Close enough.”

Greg Cobb, April 28, 2016

THE VOTER’S LAMENT

JUST ONCE IN MY LIFE

Just once once in my life, could there be a nominee
someone whose speech is plain
Just once, someone with good sense and core values,
I’m tired of voting in vain

just one man or woman, Hell, an LGBT, it doesn’t matter to me
as long as they know
we’re voting for them
and not the Party they’re in, no, no, no
(just once in my life)

At least once in my life, could my choice not betray me
with a sly choice of words?

Just once, please, could a candidate listen to me
instead of those who pay more?

Just once could you talk
without sounding phony?
Heed all your supporters, not just the ones with the money
Before the end of my life, let’s end this plutocracy!

(End this plutocracy-ee-ee, end this plutocracy-ee!)

THE FORGOTTEN 1%

THOSE GUARDED GATES AND LAVISH FOUNTAINS HIDE THEIR TEARS AND MUFFLE THEIR CRIES___________

Obama is attacking our Rich-Americans, certifiably the smallest minority extant in these United States. He has declared war on their wealth, their businesses, and will soon have all but publicly declared that he will nationalize every successful business in the United States and its territories. Well, he might exempt Wake Island, but I hear he is going to force owners of mansions to open their swimming pools to the public, and make them pick up hitchhikers in their chauffeured limos. If any of the above is true, (and hey, we’ve never had a foreign president before, so who knows?) the oppressed upper class in America will be needing our help. Do you realize that many children of CEO’s have never eaten a corn dog?
But a change is in the wind. New charities are springing up, NGO’s whose mission in one way or another will improve the lives of the long-neglected .5% of us that have never been inside a public school or playground. People who want to make a difference in the lives of those whose vision of the future is sadly blocked by piles of (possibly unclean) lucre can choose from the following list of compassionate organizations:

Habitat for Legacies
Toys For Trust-Fund Babies
Polo Pony Sanctuary
Big Butler
National Association for the Advancement of the Comfortably Prosperous
Hedge Start
Slope For Tomorrow
Tax Shelters Without Borders
Jet Lag Research Foundation
Project Gentrify
Daughters of the American Robber Barons
Heirs Without Partners

Noir/Poetry Mashup

A CRIME THAT RHYMES
 
She walked into my office, all business and style
Not bad legs, either, so I dialed up my smile
“How may I help, I track down and I tail,
I trace and paper chase, but I’m not fond of jail
So don’t ask me to whack him, attack him, or open his mail.”
 
Her smile was nice, but it did not remain
long on her face, her distress was plain
She took a seat, said ‘yes, please’ to a drink
I watched as she downed the gin in a wink
Not her first taste, is what this private eye thinks 

“My name is Linda Worthington Honeycutt-Lee.”
She paused as I pondered her pedigree
and the suspicions about who shot husband #3.
“You think I killed him, it’s in your eyes.
Would it matter if I told you that I really loved the guy?”

“Would it matter to you that I miss his loud laughter?
That to his wedding vow Louie added ‘forever after’?
Oh, I don’t blame you, by most I’ve been shunned.
The case is still open, and I’m suspect number one
Because I thought I heard footsteps, and picked up the gun.”

I said I believed her when the tears started flowing
I told her I’d help her without even knowing
what she wanted, but my curiosity was growing
The widow Lee combined two of my weaknesses,
An inquisitive gene, and a fair damsel’s distresses.

With my borrowed hankie, she wiped her last tear
and, fresh drink in hand, told me why she had come here,
to the wrong side of the tracks, at a bad time of the year.
As if reading my mind, she said “Your neighborhood’s horrible.
Trash pick-up is spotty, the street lighting deplorable.”

I got a wider smile when I said, “I know,
I doubt we’ll be named ‘Street Beautiful’ two years in a row.”
“And that is why I came here, I must be discreet,
I beg your pardon, but I’m unlikely to meet
Anyone who knows me, they’d never drive down this street.”

“The girls next door service guys who ride in limousines
On the corner kids spend their trust funds on vials full of dreams,”
The mayor rolls them bones with the owners of the mill
in an unlicensed casino, slightly further up the hill
In return for winning, he rubber-stamps their bills.”

“But it’s early, you should have no reason to worry
people who come down here are often in a hurry
“Still”, I said, “discretion’s best, so next time, no Audi,
and wear something modest.” She asked, “This dress is too gaudy?”
“Oh no, the dress is fine, I meant a different body.”

“I can’t live with this cloud, and former friends’ stares,
overheard whispers, and the detectives’ hard glares
I have nowhere to turn, I’m a physical wreck!”
She unflipped her phone, and gasped at the text
the number was restricted, the message; ‘you’re next!”

I sent Ms. Lee home when she had settled down
and went to see a friend who worked Homicide downtown
You see, not all cops are made the same
Some really want justice to be more than a game
Detective Hall would know if the cop’s case was lame

“Well looky here”, Ernie was in a mood to bust nuts
“A wannabe comes knocking at the house of the have-gots”
I told him why I had come, and asked after his thoughts
“She heard muffled footsteps, yet slept through gunfire.
Her prints on the weapon seem to call her a liar.”

She told me Louie played loud music, smoked weed for his head
So in order to sleep, she would wear earmuffs to bed
Something woke her, the bedroom door was ajar
she took the gun from the drawer, said it felt warm
On the stairway she found him, beyond further harm

Hall said “Louie was no saint, he also liked his cocaine
It kept him awake during high-dollar poker games
Could he have lost big, and been unable to pay?
“They were mostly buddies, so I’d say no way.
None of them would risk jail, not for even one day.”

More likely, assuming the widow’s story is true
Maybe he was the lender, and the rent was coming due
“Have the players been questioned? Did they have a guard?”
“Yes, all five. Some have worse habits than betting on cards.
And there was an off-duty inside, another two in the yard.”

With a little cajoling, Ernie gave in and gave me a sheet
listing the names of those with whom I should meet.
a ‘good luck’ shoulder punch later, I was back on the street
and headed towards downtown with my friend Ernie’s list
Hoping to find something that the cops may have missed.

My very first stop was a posh downtown Hotel
called the Spotted Orchid, run by one Singh Patel
“they make fun of my accent, imitate it in vain,
I laugh too, I clean them out in two out of three games
“Did you play last week?” “Yes, but it wasn’t the same.”

Louie’s partner Joey Florala played four-zeroed hands, too
Together, they ran a twenty-store chain, ‘Electronics 4 U’
Like Yin and Yang they clicked, and made a mil or two
Louie was the place’s face, Joey did the math
His father was a jailed mobster, Joey took a different path.
Joey’s smile reached his eyes. “You I’ve met before.
When they came for my Dad, you busted down the door.”
“That was a lifetime ago, I’m not a cop anymore.”
He said, “I know, I’ve followed your career.
I’m a fan, you see, because of you, I’m here.”

“The other cops that day were crude, kicked my Dad around,
You made them stop, helped Dad off the ground.”
You said, “Don’t be like Carmine here, hurting people who are down.”
“Those words hit me like a comet, and today here I am.
Because of you, my friend. I’m an honest and rich man.”

“She did not do this, Moonlight. Their love for each other was strong.
No way, Moonlight, she couldn’t have. The cops got it all wrong.
Whoever shot him in the den knew the house, and the grounds outside
It was no crime of passion, Louie’s death was planned, that can’t be denied.
And if a person says they weren’t in love, I’ll say that person lied.”

Jimmy Finke drank his lunch, and washed it down with a cigar
He’s slept at his office since the divorce, which he compared to a war
She took his yacht, their home, and a lot full of used cars
“I should stick to rich girls, they aren’t into marryin’,
But I’m hooked on Latin gals, my own private heroin.”

Trust in Finke, He’ll Steer You Right, into a real cool deal
Jimmy was good, he could make you think a lemon was a steal
Like Florala, Finke believed that Lee’s happiness was real
“She looks good for the crime, but I’d bet my last dime
that the killer is laughing as the police waste their time.”

Syd Barkley was next on the list, but he was in the wind
I was beat myself, and drove towards my favorite dispenser of gin
A long dark shape pulled alongside, and started hemming me in
I pulled to a stop, pulled out my gun, then the window shattered.
The next swing took out my gun hand, the guy was a helluva batter

Then my throat got pressed by the business end of a revolver
A voice behind the lights called me a little problem solver
“Well, we have a quandary here, more salient than most,”
“Let the lady take the rap, so decrees my host,”
“You’ll do as he exhorts, or roam this sphere as a ghost.”

My breath was gone, I rasped, “Understood”
The gun pressed my windpipe shut, the voice said “good!.
But, my employer opines, you’re not so precipitate to convince.”
“I’m easily swayed!”, I gasped to the wordy thug, “But since
It’s getting late, let’s do this.” The first hit made me wince.

They broke some ribs, and one eye closed tight
My nose was broken, then out went the lights
When I came to, I hurt like hell most everywhere
But my little guys were fine, I wasn’t touched there
I made their job easy, so they treated me fair.

I got a bottle of Rebel Yell and found my way home
When I look this bad, I prefer drinking alone.
About a third of the way down the bottle, I suppose,
as with tissues and tweezers, I rebuilt my nose,
an image came, of a ring, on the hand that delivered the blows.

“A hawk atop an open scroll? That’s the symbol of Boone’s End
The elite are elated when a scion is selected to attend.”
Ernie’s gaze passed over me, sleep had not helped my looks.
“You ought to feel honored, friend, for no ordinary crook
is the quite dreaded, yet well-read and bred, Benny the Book.”

“A preppy for hire? You have to admit, it’s a strange career choice
for one whose ride to school was a Porsche or  Rolls-Royce!”
“Breeding he’s got, he’s a heat-packing patrician
His ascot is tastefully useful in asphyxiations
What he lacks in restraint, he makes up  in erudition.”

“Serve him white wine with lamb, and it’s your ass
Benny uses the tools of the aristocrat class
A polo mallet, not a bat, whacked your hand.
When he served time, he taught etiquette in the can
Several died thinking that made him less of a man.”

Ernie took a call, hung up, and said “We have a lead.
The threat on Lee’s phone? Tech got a three-tower read.
The call came from a house on Fortescue Street”
“I’ve been there, Ernie, that’s where Syd Barkley lives”
“Sounded familiar”, Hall stood up. “Let’s go see what gives.”

But Syd stayed mum, he was beyond giving
For a very good reason, Syd had simply stopped living
‘”He looked good for the crime, I was beat leaving his pad.”
“He may yet have done Louis, before he took two in the head.”
“Or maybe the call to Linda was a warning, not a threat.”

So who did this to Barkley, the one-time celebrity?
A child star gone bad, jailed for various perfidies
Now when he wins a game, it goes to his charities
His book about failure made him a success once again
Good, bad, rich, poor, he was all of it before his life’s end.

 

“Two guys from the game, killed in one week’s time,

It looks less likely to me that Ms. Lee committed the crime.”

Ernie paused to talk to the cops who canvassed the area.

A car seen leaving Barkley’s, an antique, cherry-red Impala.

We shared a look, said at the same time, “Joey Florala!”

 

“I thought that Joey was an apple that denied the tree.”

“Apples fall when they’re rotting, too, such is humanity.”

After that remark, Ernie issued a 187, a BOLO, and an APB.

Ernie went to find Joey  I called the cops guarding the game.

Except for one detail, their accounts were the same.

 

Mallory, who watched the players’ cars, saw a guy dressed in rags

“Probably homeless”, he said.  “he was carrying two bags,

Thinking back now, he seemed focused on the tags.”

I asked, “Did anything else at all catch your attention?”

“No, but I’ll call if I remember anything worth a mention.”

 

Joey hadn’t been home for some time, that was not a surprise

And his staff seemed to have only recently gotten their eyes.

Just where he had gone, or how long ago, no one would say

It could have been hours or minutes, it could have been days

I was still unsure of his guilt, I really wanted to know he was okay.

 

At least I could keep busy while waiting for Joey to show,

I drove out to Highland Heather to see the grieving widow.

“Is she having a party?”, asked the guard, his tag read “Ken”

“Yours is the third car headed that way, and it’s barely past ten!”

An Impala, then a Bentley whose driver acted so very refined.”

 

The road was divided, and through the bushes I saw Joey’s car,

The top was down, and so was his foot, pedal mashed to the floor

Right behind was Benny, who else would boom-bass a work by Elgar?

I had a choice, join the parade, or check on Ms. Linda yadda-whatever.

If she was dead, she’d stay dead, no one lives forever.

 

I stopped long enough to tell Ken “Quick! Get on the phone!”

Call the cops, get them to send a squad car to her home.”

Ken told me that both suspects turned to the right,

Screeching tires and horns indicated they blew through the light,

I did the same, and gave some poor trucker his day’s second fright.

 

When I caught up, things looked to be getting out of hand,

The Book was on Joey’s bumper, doing a heavy-metal dance

Benny held  a gun out the window, they weren’t exactly friends.

Neither are thinking and I, and that is the main reason why

I drew abreast of Benny, rammed my  hooptie into the Bentley left side.

 

The vanity car rolled almost three times, and stopped upside-down.

By the time I reached the wreck, Benny was just coming around,

The hate and pain was plain on his face, his manner stayed refined.

“The elision of our carriages has curtailed pursuance of any kind.

My entrails have been rendered feckless, I’m expiring on the vine.”

 

It was weird to feel bad, Benny’s punches and swings still hurt.

Still, how sad to have no friends, no love, to die in the dirt.

“Benny, someone wanted me hurt bad, and you know why

Tell me who murdered Louie Lee, tell me before you die.”

“Florala, he rasped. Blood poured from his mouth, he looked to the sky.

 

I slapped him hard, “Don’t die on me yet, you loquacious goon,

“Tell me why he killed Barkley and Lee, and make it real soon.”

“Some..thing about revenge … heinous duplicity”, Benny cried.

So why kill the man who hired you? It sure looks like you tried.”

“No, not…that…kill…Florala said…kill …him…kid.” And he died.

 

I got cuffed, but Ernie set me free, we went back to the Heather

The techs searching for clues were racing the weather.

Finke had shown up, he and Linda were huddled together.

It was a friendly and comforting hug, she did not need to be alone.

It turned out that Joey had been coming to pick up his phone.

 

“He left this one for me when my cell phone got fried

By a drunk at our last party, who apparently tried

To use the wrong charger, that was right before my Louis died”

She held up the phone on which the threat was received.

Joey’s was to be the next death, but he wasn’t the killer, to my relief.

 

Just about then, I heard my own phone’s tinny ring.

Mallory’s voice on the line, “I remembered something!”

He apologized at length for waiting, then, “this might be nothing…”,

I was getting impatient, “I’ll let you know, just tell me, man!”

Mallory sighed, “I think that homeless guy had a prison tan.”

 

He’d once worked at a prison, and recognized the hue

Caused by long lacks of sunlight. “Is that a good clue?”

I assured him it would help us find the answers we seek.

Then Ernie handed me his phone and said, “Take a peek.”

Carmine Florala Sr. was released from federal prison last week.

 

“How could Joey not know that? Wasn’t the family told?”

“Joey’s dad disowned his son for rejecting  the Omerta code.”

Linda continued, “Joey was blocked from seeing his Dad,

Joey said he thought prison had driven his father mad.

But he still hopes for a reunion, the split hurt him bad.”

 

Ernie and the uniforms left, Linda was still shook up

So Finke made coffee, and we sat on her patio, sipping our cups

“I can’t believe you suspected Joey, he doesn’t know how to be bad.

Just in case they reconciled, Joey bought a home for his Dad.

That two-storied  house across the green? It was going to be Carmine’s pad.”

 

“Did Papa know this?” I asked. “Yes, he got the news by mail.

In the only letter he ever wrote, he said he’d rather stay in jail.”

Carmine’s place looked empty, gloomy in the fading light,

Storm clouds were gathering, contributing to the early night

A work crew packed up and left the neighboring construction site.

 

“Is there another highway access? That truck didn’t head for the gate.”

“There’s a service road,” Linda replied, “It stays open usually until eight.”

A car could not get close unobserved, the view of the road was great.

I told Linda and Finke, ”I feel like a walk, who knows what I might find.”

It’s gonna be a wet stroll, but I’ll go too, if you don’t happen to mind.”

 

I went to my car and got my piece, Finke borrowed Linda’s gun,

As we started across the fairway, Finke said, “Your job is fun!”

“It has its moments”, I yelled over the thunder, “but this isn’t one!”

I put a finger to my lips as Casa Carmine came back into sight,

For through the garage window there came a sudden ray of light.

 

Joey’s caddy was in the driveway, no other car was there.

Through the garage window I saw Joey, trussed up in a chair.

Behind me, Finke yelled, and ran to help his friend.

I had no choice but to follow, you bet I cursed the man!

I heard thunder, then Finke crumpled, his women worries at an end.

 

“Drop it, copper!” Carmine was behind his gagged and bound son.

I had no choice, I had no shot, to Joey’s head, the father held a gun.

“I’m not a cop, but, I made a call, they will be stopping by!”

“I don’t believe you”, said Dad of the year. Okay, so it was a lie.

“Kick the gun over here.” I complied. “Florala, haven’t enough people died?”

 

“Singh was the Book’s next target, but you got way too nosy.

So I changed my plans, but Sonny-boy’s future still ain’t so rosy.”

So why kill the other players? Pardon the pun, but what’s your deal?

I was stalling for time, but the questions I asked were real.

“Stupid man, they were his friends, imagine the pain he feels!”

 

Daddy hit the boy with his gun. “This rat turned state’s witness,

He told them everything he ever heard, really caused a mess.”

I wanted him to hurt, like I’ve been hurt for years.”

I looked from him to his son, his eyes were moist with tears.

My old pals blamed me, I miss them more than sonny here.”

 

“You wanted us to think that Linda took her husband’s life.”

“Reason two, detective, Joey’s always loved his partner’s wife.”

“Joey wrote me, thought if I knew his hopes and dreams,

I’d again be Daddy.” He struck his son. “Wrong again, it seems.”

“So now you kill him, and end his pain, is that the goal of this scheme?”

 

I was thinking fast. “You can’t hurt him anymore, once he’s dead,

He will feel no more pain, know no horror, when he’s full of lead.”

Joey wide eyes stared at me. “You have a point”, his father said.

He swiveled Joey’s chair around, pulled the, gag from his mouth.

He smiled fondly, then he said, “Now both of our lives have gone South.”

 

He aimed at Joey, then at me. “One more death, who will it be?”

“For God’s sake, Dad! If it has to be anyone, then do it, kill me!”

Carmine lowered the gun, smiled sadly at his son.

“That’s the answer I wanted, it means I have won.”

“My hurt is near ending, yours will go on.” He stopped talking, up came the gun.

 

There was no time to stop him. The sound hurt my ears,

He was right on both counts, his son’s pain would last years.

Joey’s cries tore at my heart as I freed his arms

He shook and shivered as if he would never again be warm,

Fell across his dad’s body, protecting it from harm.

 

That’s pretty much it, not much left to tell.

Finke pulled through, no doubt his shooter’s in Hell.

Joey mourned for some time, but now he seems sound.

With Linda’s help, Electronics 4 U is on solid ground.

To sell their stereos on TV, they have hired a clown.

 

Florala used long-stashed cash to hire Benny the Book,

For any more loose ends, I’ll let the authorities look.

Because it’s no longer my job, as a kind offer I took.

I’m off the streets now, I’ve turned over a new leaf.

Say hello to Joey and Linda’s new Corporate Security Chief!

 

 

 

 

 

THE END

 

 

 

Copyright 2016, Gregory C. Cobb

Top of Form

HOW’S THAT OLD SAYING GO?

 

If Life hands you lemons, hand ’em back, and say sarcastically, “Thanks but obviously you need these more than I do!”

Never try to teach a pig to whistle, he’ll just dump you for a well-connected talent agency, and you’ll see “Whistling Pig” posters and TV ads wherever you go in your increasingly bitter, alcohol-fueled trip on the pity train.

If I had a nickel for every time I got bogged down in minutiae, I’d have, let’s see, that essay question in civics class, that’s one, all the times I started to clean my room, and ended up playing a long-lost Game Boy, or answering the phone,…but phone calls shouldn’t count, if they were emergencies or someone I hadn’t spoken to in awhile……

If everybody else is jumping off a cliff, yeah, I’ll jump too. If I can be the last jumper, and land on a pile of soft bodies.

Birds of a feather ‘flock’ together if they’re white, BUT when crows do it, it’s murder!

Don’t buy a pig in a poke; the warranty doesn’t cover moving parts.

A penny? For You’re thoughts? on My punctuation and grammar?

Give a man a fish, then maybe the gulls will crap on him instead!

The Serious Moonlight Has Dimmed

Major Tom and Ziggy,
Became Thin White Dukes
So freaky hot, so suavely cool
So oddly apt, so perfectly strange
Undetached irony, singing carols with Bing
Following no one, setting the trends in motion
Made the best play their best, never settled for less
Our world is dimmer today, his light will be missed,
So long, old friend, time to raise up our glasses
And with choked voice and tears say thanks
For your mind, your soul, and your self
Your gifts will last longer than us
Our children will wonder why
We love you so, until they
Listen, then they’ll know.
Starman in the sky,
Goodbye.

Rapper for ISIS Meets His 72 Biotches!

It has been reported that a German rapper, Denis Cuspert, aka Deso Dogg, who had been working as a spokesman for ISIS, was killed in an air strike a few weeks ago. I found this hard to comprehend, a German rapper? But other idiots find ISIS rather appealing,  and who wouldn’t give up a budding recording career, along with the fame, respect, and chicks that come with it, for a chance to be part of a band of murdering thugs who don’t sing, dance, or engage in critical thinking, and who only get laid when they force captives into marriage, or do each other? I tried here to get into the asshat’s mind, in the process of which I found myself needing a mental laxative Anyway, Denis, this rap is for you, may you rot in Hell…..

I know what you’re thinking, know-it-all winking,
I must be tall-stein drinkin’ the koolaid of the kinks in
Middle-East land, ISIS makes the Taliban in Afghanistan
look like the Good Humor Man, Lebanon like Disneyland

But I wasn’t crazy, just bored and lazy,
my moral compass was maybe hazy
put right and wrong on the same plate
no room for love, I’ve got a passionate hate
can you relate? A righteous fury, It’s way too late
To find common ground, or sit around.
and carve more lines into the ground
that separate and isolate,
shoot us when we congregate,
wherever, whenever, no matter how late
to plot the fall of the Jewish State,
we condemn Amerika to the very same fate
can you relate?
can you relate?

So auf weidersen to old Deutschland,
I’m rappin’ now for my Imam
beheading infidels in the Holy Land
Call me a terrorist, a brat, worse
I cherish your every invective and curse
I reject the West, I can do no less
Yet I still wonder why I’m not blessed,
why by old Germans I’m not liked
I’m doing the work of the old 3rd Reich.

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